Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
It’s all in the small print.
Hudson was still absent. Great. Glad to see we were being adults about this.
My texts to him sat in the message thread like an unruly lineup.
Are you alive?
We need to talk.
Your underwear drawer doesn’t close because you fold socks like they’re origami cranes, and I hate you.
All unsent. I am nothing if not a model of restraint.
I decided to ground myself in the most responsible way possible—petty vengeance and website moderation.
TripAdvisor loaded with the speed of a guillotine. There it was, bold as sin, a brand-new entry with an enthusiasm I did not trust.
Summer Grove House
A quirky B&B with unexpected amenities. Friendly staff. Cookies A+. Ghosts also A+. In-house flirtation is abundant but not welcomed. Not recommended for newbies who scare easily.
I pinched the bridge of my nose so hard I saw stars. “I am going to murder a vampire princess,” I told the desk, which was stoic in the face of premeditated homicide.
The flamingo paddling pool in the corner—Sir Float-A-Lot, per Maggie’s christening—made a wet glorp. Pete, the frog-shaped fiancé, did a slow bob beneath his mosquito net and blinked his golden eye. He might have been agreeing. Or judging. Same difference.
I scrolled. Oh, it got worse. So much worse.
Summer Grove House
White Castle’s answer to relationship goals. Met by a lovely girl with horrific snacks. The owner was seen on the lawn under the light of the full moon, and all I want to know is—damn—where do I get me one of those?
“Very adult,” I muttered. “We’re all so adult.”
Bella hopped onto my desk and sat on the keyboard. The screen filled with [[[[[[[[[[[[*. It was, frankly, an improvement over the content.
“Off,” I told the cat. Bella stared hard at the frog and then harder at me, tail thumping. I slid her to the floor with the practiced ease of a woman who had lost multiple emails to a vindictive feline.
I scrolled again.
Summer Grove House
The residential cat took care of the vermin. Pity that didn’t extend to my ex.
“Concerning, but supportive,” I said. Pete croaked. I chose to believe he approved of pest control.
Next up, and I could feel my blood pressure rising.
Summer Grove House
Pretty home-wrecking vampires with rampant appetites. R offered me a pretty smile and a wink before beckoning me into her bedroom and under her thrall I was naked in thirty seconds flat. I take no responsibility for this. Beatrice, if you are reading, NO RESPONSIBILITY.
“Rebecca,” I hissed, standing so fast the chair shot back and hit the filing cabinet. “Rebecca!”
A muffled “What now?” floated along the floorboards over my head, followed by the swish of silk and the amused click of heels. Of course. She made an entrance like other people breathe.
She appeared in my doorway a second later, blonde and blasé in an ivory blouse and an elegant pencil skirt that molded to her curves and fed into every man’s secretary fantasy. “If this is about the fridge, it wasn’t me. The kale attacked first.”
Kale? I shook my head. Not important.
I shoved the laptop at her. “Explain.”
She read in silence, immaculate eyebrow arching and a grin tugging at her mouth. “Oh, that,” she said, looking delighted.
“You think this is funny?”
She nudged the laptop back toward me and sauntered to Pete’s pool, peering at the hapless amphibian with relationship issues. “Hello, handsome,” she drawled in her best Mary Poppins accent. “Maybe I should expand my tastes.”
“Focus,” I snapped. The last thing needed was a disgruntled elemental and a smitten guy acting like a puppy in my house.
She sighed and returned to the chair before folding herself into it. “First, I haven’t ‘rampantly appetited’ anyone in months. Second, thrall is such a vulgar word. Third, I know exactly who wrote this.”
“Do you?” I folded my arms. “Because the author claims you summoned them with your eyes, whisked them into your bed, and stole their virtue.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “He tried to climb into my bed through the window, and I refused him. I may be affectionate, Cora, but I do have taste. The only thing warming my sheets recently has been one infuriating shifter who thinks knocking is for mortals.”
“Ezra.”
She gave me a feline smile. “Exactly. And for the record, the last time I invited anyone in of my own free will, I also invited them to leave when they bored me. Should I handle this?”
“Absolutely not. You will not escalate,” I warned.
She leaned back and crossed her long legs. Rebecca was effortlessly alluring, and that was the crux of the problem. “Me? Never.”
“And if you see someone giving you the eye, you make it clear you are taken.”
“I’m not going to lie.”
“Rebecca.”
She shrugged with a sigh. “Ezra is relentless but wrong for me. I just need him to understand that I am also so very wrong for him.”
It dawned on me what her problem was. “You don’t think you deserve unconditional love and devotion.”
Her lips pressed together, and she stiffened. Her parents had so much to answer for. “I am not cut out for relationships.”
Wrong. Like me, she is terrified of gifting her heart and getting it trampled on.
“Anyway, one bad review is hardly worth an urgent meeting while the world rearranges itself in preparation for the apocalypse.”
She’s right, but this I could do something about. The brewing war was a mammoth issue still under consideration.
I flicked the laptop back open and grimaced.
“Oh good,” I said. “There’s more.”
Summer Grove House
Think more brothel than bed & breakfast. Walls too thin. Growling from the top floor at all hours, and for hours on end. The room next to mine had a revolving door of suitors the blonde ice queen took for a test drive.
“Growling?” Rebecca repeated, faux-innocent. “Do we know any growlers? Pretty sure you can’t lay that one at my door… or my bed.”
Hudson’s absence prickled under my skin like heat rash. “Fine. Not all of these issues are linked to you. But I refuse to discuss my mate in a TripAdvisor thread.”
Rebecca hummed. “Is that because he is absent, or because he is…” She held up a hand and extended her fingers. “Impressive?” she finished.
I gave her a flat look. “I am about to dock your cookie privileges.”
She gasped, hand flying to her heart. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
We sat in silence for a heartbeat as I scrolled to the last circle of hell.
Summer Grove House
Avoid room three. Upon using a UV light, I observed several suspicious stains on the bed, ceiling, and walls. The carpet was strangely clear. Perhaps it was new. Don’t get caught out: order here —
Thank you to my sponsor for gifting me this trip across America.
“Sponsored slander,” I grumbled. “I hate the internet.”
Rebecca leaned in. “Room three is where Dave and Liz regularly stay.”
I tipped my head back and glared at the ceiling before sliding a look at Pete. “Apparently, I run a brothel with a spa.”
Pete croaked once. I wagged my finger at him. “Don’t you try to weigh in on this disaster. I’ll leave you slimy and one-eyed for the rest of your life.”
Did magically modified people’s life expectancy remain that of their original form, or did it alter to match their new species?
The wards thrummed in my bones like a polite doorbell chime, the scent of meat and veggies giving away the visitor.
Sophia appeared in my doorway, carrying a tray the size of a small country, containing mini cabbage rolls arranged in concentric circles like a crop sign to warn off UFOs.
I really needed to stop watching those alien shows with the shifters.
Indigo perked up. “Ah. Food.”
“Tastings for your wedding,” she corrected.
Rebecca perked up. “Oh, this is going to be delicious.”
“This is not the time,” I pointed out.
Sophia’s dark eyes narrowed. “Pretend otherwise if you must, but a Roberts wedding attracts attention even when we don’t set the lawn on fire. They are rare, and with good reason. And given the way you and Hudson—”
“Stop.” I raised both hands. Heat uncoiled behind my ribs as Indigo stretched like a cat. “The next person to mention the full moon and the lawn will receive a permanent ban.”
“Not the cabbage roll maker,” Indigo snarled.
“Hudson isn’t here,” I pointed out. “Surely he needs to offer his opinion?”
“I’m sure he trusts you to make some decisions.” Aunt Sophia’s expression softened. “Dave likes the pickled ones.”
Wait, the chief of security had already sampled my wedding food? Did he want the job? Although a man who preferred pickled anything could not be trusted.
She set the tray on the desk and pointed at a paler clump. “Those are the veggie ones.”
Rebecca plucked one and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, then declared, “Tastes like love.”
“Cabbage rolls cannot taste like love,” I pointed out.
“Try one,” she said, quirking a brow in challenge.
Fine. I obliged and tried not to wilt under the stares of the supernaturals awaiting my verdict. They were a secret recipe, guarded by generations, made for comfort, and they tasted like...
“Fine, they taste like love.”
Rebecca snorted, and Aunt Sophia smiled in victory.
The door swung open, and Aunt Liz and Aunt Dayna swept in on a wave of expensive floral perfume and righteous sibling bickering.
“I’m not saying we do it,” Aunt Dayna declared, hair a tumble of dark curls, eyes sparkling. “I’m saying we talk about it like adults.”
Aunt Liz, draped in an elegant pale gray dress, rolled her eyes so hard they took a tour of the ceiling. “Talking about it is step one to doing it, and you know it.”
“What are we not talking about not doing?” I asked.
Sophia held up the tray, and my aunts snatched a cabbage roll each.