If Marcus hadn’t been watching her closely, he would have missed the flicker of panic in her eyes before she fluttered her long black lashes and gave him a sugary smile. “Oh my gosh. You are a doll for calling me out like that. I just opened my mouth to ask you one tiny question, and Daddy’s interrogation skills poured out of me. You see, any time I brought a guy home to meet Daddy, he would subject them to brutal questioning. As you can probably imagine, none of them were ever good enough for his little girl…until Jeffrey. Daddy practically swooned.”
Marcus opened his mouth, but another voice cut in before he could reply.
“Marcus Grant.” Harriet stopped at their booth and scowled. “Your loud shenanigans scared off the owl I was hoping to see tonight.”
“Glad to see you got down out of the tree safely,” he said. “I’ll try to be quieter next time.” He glanced at Frankie, who looked a little shell-shocked. “Francesca B, I’d like for you to meet Harriet the Spy. Harriet, this is Francesca B. She will be living in the cottage while filling in for Vivian at the bookstore.”
Harriet turned to Frankie, gave her the full head-to-toe scan, then harrumphed like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “Do you drink bourbon?”
“On occasion,”Frankie replied.
“Good,” Harriet said. “You’re going to need it living in that haunted house.” She walked off without another word, like she’d just passed along the weather forecast.
Frankie turned to Marcus. “Haunted? Was it a ghost looking through the window at me?”
He shrugged. “That is as good an explanation as any.” This wasn’t the first time he’d heard mention of ghosts in Gi Gi’s Crossing. He’d be worried if he believed in them. “Every small town has a haunted something. In Gi Gi’s Crossing, it happens to be the cottage you’re renting.”
“Good thing I happen to have the Ghostbusters on speed dial,” Frankie deadpanned, surprising him with a sense of humor.
“Who you gonna call?” he quipped.
They both smiled. Like they’d glimpsed something real in each other, and neither quite knew what to do with it.
He checked his watch, reminding himself that liking anything about her was dangerous. “We should go if I’m going to make the meeting.”
She slid out of the booth and smoothed her dress like she was prepping for a red carpet, not a town hall meeting in a creaky library knock-off. Then she turned that Francesca smile on him again. Bright. Polished. And just fake enough to make his teeth itch.
“I’ve never been to a town hall meeting. Do they serve champagne? Canapés?”
Marcus pushed to his feet. “Neither.”
“Oh,” she said, as if truly startled by the response. “Perhaps I’ll make a motion to change that. Can I make a motion?”
“You cannot.”
“I think I will anyway.”
As they headed for the door, Marcus knew without a doubt tonight’s meeting would be anything but dull with a fake heiress in town.
Chapter 8
Marcus strolled ahead of Frankie toward town hall, housed on the third floor of the town’s defunct library. Her heels clicked to a stop every few steps, followed by a low hum or muttered comment about signage. He didn’t have to turn around to know she was critiquing the place one storefront at a time.
“Does Gi Gi have a Crush and Crumble?” she called out. “Because this block is screaming for one.”
He didn’t turn around. Of course she’d want a chain bakery known for breakup cupcakes and revenge text menus. Six hours in and already she had opinions.
“Nope,” he said. “But if you’re planning to stick around, maybe open one once the bookstore gig’s done.”
“Darling, I don’t open Crush and Crumbles. I inspire the ensembles worn to them.”
He rolled his eyes just as he reached the library doors.
“Wait up,” she added. “I’ll need an introduction before I start networking on your behalf.”
Fantastic. Just what he needed. Manhattan’s most fashionable grenade throwing herself into the middle of small-town politics.
He took the stairs two at a time, muttering a silent prayer to whatever local deity governed this place.
