Page 6 of Relentless Charm

“We’re in need of some new roofing materials. Judging by the cost of those jeans you have on, you could certainly afford to help us with that if you lose.”

“And when I win?” King chose his words precisely, feeling confident beyond measure. “What will I get?”

“A date with me.” She brushed her hair off her shoulder like a movie star walking the red carpet.

“A what?” He chuckled but she could see his cheeks flush for just a second. “What makes you think that would be a win for me?”

“Trust me, it would.” Bailey sticks her hand out an inch farther, daring him to shake on it.

“How do you know how much my jeans cost? I don’t exactly see any high-end retail stores out here in Cinderhill. Something seems fishy.”

“They’re European. I lived in Italy for a time.” She cut the words short, feeling suddenly like she’d shared too much. “I might not look like I know much about fashion, but I do.” Bailey lifted the hem of her simple dress and did a tiny curtsey.

Looking around Cinderhill, King finally took her hand. “Deal. If I can stay here a week, we go on the date of my choice. If I can’t, I’ll pay for whatever roofing supplies you need. But you can’t intentionally make me miserable. No concerted effort to get me running for the hills.”

“Deal.” Their hands lingered for a long moment after the agreement was sealed with a handshake. “Now come eat some possum stew we cooked up from roadkill down yonder.”

“Roadkill?” His look of unease had returned

“I’m kidding. It’s beef stew and you’ll love it. We trade a butcher in the next town over some of our eggs for his beef. Don’t look so scared. Try to view Cinderhill as a refuge. A break from your life that wasn’t going so great. If you frame it that way, I think you’ll be able to really appreciate what we have here.”

“Unfortunately, none of that matters now.”

“Why?”

“I can’t lose a bet. It’s not in my DNA. You’re stuck with me for the week now.”

Bailey waved off Edna’s prying eyes and looked up at King. “We’ll see about that.” Part of her felt guilty for locking him into this agreement. It was self-serving no matter how it turned out. The roof repairs they needed were vitally important, but her love life as of late had been just as ignored as the metal planks they used to keep the rain out of their tiny houses. Not to mention, it was good timing having a man like King around.

He seemed capable in that unmistakable way a man looked when he could handle himself. That could come in handy.

CHAPTERFOUR

King

It felt like it had been ages since something had gone so smoothly. It had turned out to be easy and had worked the first time. Instead of feeling relief, King was focused on what might go wrong next. He’d expected to have to work his way into Cinderhill—that he’d be met with some resistance and cynicism about arriving out of nowhere.

Instead, he had a week of unfettered access to the place and Bailey. King would be able to see for himself if there was something bad going on here. Something Bailey needed to be rescued from. It was early, he’d only been around her for an hour, but so far there didn’t seem to be any red flags. Surely someone in danger or fear for their life would not welcome him in so quickly. Or maybe that was exactly what someone in that position would do.

He demanded patience of himself. He’d honed the skill perfectly over the years. Waiting to be ordered around. Holding his breath for the next threat. This would be no different. He wouldn’t jump to a conclusion one way or another. The truth would come out if he waited for it.

“Mrs. Tully, this is King. He ran out of gas and found his way to us. Do you think you could fix him up a bowl?”

The woman puttering around the kitchen looked weathered and hunched, yet the lines on her face were clearly from laughing, not frowning. Her apron was frilly and her hair, all wild gray coils, sprang up in every direction.

“Only if it’s not too much trouble,” he cut in, wanting to be an amicable guest. He’d needed to duck to make his way into her tiny cinderblock house. The floors were crooked and the furniture mismatched, but it still had the essence of a grandma vibe.

“Good gravy, you’re huge,” Mrs. Tully announced, waving her ladle around like a wand. Drips of stew hit the floor and were quickly lapped up by a tiny dog with patches of missing fur and an eye that wandered away from the other. “Scram, Fuzzington,” she scolded the puppy and pushed him away with her slipper.

“Fuzzington?” King asked with a chuckle.

Bailey lowered her voice to explain. “It’s short for Sir Fuzzington the Great, Earl of Puppy Chow.”

“Of course.” King nodded.

“Did you hit your head on the door frame on the way in?” Mrs. Tully pressed, eying him from head to toe.

“I’m not that big,” King replied with a smile. “Only six foot three.”