Page 55 of Winning His Wager

“I did—well, my bet was that you would hold out for six weeks. So…spill.” Dusty was already venting foil pans.

They had this kitchen thing down to a science, the Talley girls. No doubt about that. Dixie would fill the buffet when the food was warmed.

Casey was out there taking Ben and Fletcher’s orders, probably. Those two boys couldeat.

The door swung open. Darcey was right there. “Hey…saw your boy toy out there, Dusty. You forget how to cook for him at home?”

“I didn’t have enough groceries on hand, nor time to cook for him this morning. He had…other things on his mind than food—and it was his turn to cook anyway. My Tyler man can eat. What are you doing up so early?” Dusty said. Darcey was usually on during the busiest times of the day—or evening when needed. She tended to be snarly before ten a.m.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d check in down here.” She looked at Dylan. “Enjoy yourself in Texas?”

Dylan just nodded. This was the sister she struggled with the most. It was just a fact. They had totally different personalities. And they clashed, no denying that. Probably because in her opinion, Darcey was a bit too much like a quieter version of one Arthur Talley the Poophead. Always wanting to be the one in charge… “It was nice. We went to the zoo and a few other places. Including Mamaw’s Place Diner. It was really cool. Vintage.”

“I’ve been there with Char.” Darcey stared at her for a long moment. Like she was concerned or something. It made Dylan want to squirm. “Are you okay? Char told me about your little run-in with Bruce Tyler down there.”

Then Dylan had to explain the one dark spot on her trip. “But it was okay. We know where he is now, and Char’s dad was there with Rory—and Glenna and Phil Tyler were down there for some legal reason they couldn’t talk about—and Charlie believed us when we said Bruce was a wanted fugitive. So the TSP are looking for Bruce now. Then Fletcher took me to the Barratt-Finley Creek. Their best dining room. I wore one of Charlotte’s dresses again. And it was really nice.”

Darcey smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time, and it gave good old Daddy dearest fits to have you down there for three whole days with a man. And a Tyler man, at that. That was really fun to watch.”

“I do my part.” She was doing her part now, fixing Fletcher’s plate. “Hand me some whole wheat toast. That boy is not getting a biscuit. He had two sticky buns before he even drove me here.”

“She’s keeping him. Takes it very seriously,” Dusty told Darcey. “Says he needs more than just housekeeper help.”

“Of course, she is. Of course he does,” Darcey said. She looked at Dylan. “So…are you boinking him yet?”

Dylan almost dropped the plate. She looked at three of her four big sisters. “Doeseveryonearound here think I’m boinking Fletcher now?”

Their matching expressions were all the answer she needed.

Green-eyed buttheads. They were so the Poophead’s daughters.

37

She hadplenty of time on her split shift to come up with a plan of attack. Housekeepers. Tylers. Her sisters hadfinallyexplained.

She hadn’t had a clue. Someone could have filled her in on the joke just a little bit sooner. But would she have still moved in with him if someone had? She didn’t know. Except she knew one thing: she’d needed to get away from the inn for a while.

And he had been a safe way to do that.

Was Fletcher feeling that way about his housekeeper? She’d seen Maggie and Clint, Pan and Levi, and Phil and Glenna together. They were all very much in love. Apparently that whole boss/housekeeper thing had worked out just fine for them.

She clocked back in at three forty-five that afternoon. She’d run the front desk for four more hours, and then Fletcher would be there to get her. He had texted something about taking her to the arcade for pizza. If she wanted.

She’d been there before. With Quade. But tonight…she just wanted to be with Fletcher.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned. Dusty was there.

“You have been preoccupied all day. Want to talk? Everyone is already checked in for tonight. Should be a slow one now.”

“I have dinner plans. For after my shift,” Dylan told the one woman on the planet who might just understand where she was coming from right now. “With Fletcher. We’re going to the arcade. And then…home.”

Home.

She came to the inn or the diner, but she wenthome—to him. She was wise to the distinction. Even just in her own thoughts.

“I see. So what is the problem?”

“I think maybe he is. Or I am. Or…the whole thing is just so confusing, Dusty. And I really don’t know what to do.”