"Rich people don't go to jail." I wave that off. "Besides, you can do things the legal way. Like buy things they love and burn them down. Buy their favorite baseball team or?—"
"All right, let's focus here." Katherine shoves the rest of her cookie into her mouth.
"Hey, a girl has to have dreams." I joke, but the reality is this isn’t funny at all, and I have a sense that I’m not wrong on who might be behind this.
Chapter Four
PIERCE
The town is rather quaint. It really does have that whole Hallmark made-for-TV feel to it. Which is why I am surprised that a few movies haven’t been shot here and that a resort hasn’t strong-armed its way in here. It would be a cash cow.
“You got a Valentine?” Betty asks. The older woman with giant red glasses really jumps from topic to topic. She’s been telling me about how this very inn housed a fugitive at one time.
Not so sure that’s a selling point, but with so few places to stay in this town, the place could be haunted, and it would still be booked out. I think the story might be a bit embellished, but if Betty wants to talk, I'm going to let her. What other information can I get from her? Hopefully, she’ll divulge some about my little sharp-tongued vixen. The whole reason I’m even in this town.
"I do." Betty's shoulders drop at that, and she wasn't asking for herself. I already heard about her husband and two sons.
"That's too bad. This town has a way of making you fall in love."
"You don't say."
"Yep, not one single divorce." Damn, that is rather impressive.
"You all must really love Valentine's Day." The whole town was lit up with red and pink lights. Did they switch them over right after Christmas? That's only the tip of the decor I've seen because pink balloons and bears are all over the entryway to Betty's bed and breakfast.
"This?" Betty's face scrunches like I've grown a second head. She glances around at all the pink decorations that I'm guessing she put out. "This is nothing." Betty waves it off. “You told me only one occupant.”
“Only me.”
“But what about your Valentine?” She lifts a very dark eyebrow at me, a stark contrast to her silver hair. Betty runs her finger along the giant calendar on the front desk, the size of a poster board. I didn't know they made those anymore, but it appears that's how she's tracking the guests.
I had to call in a favor to get myself a room here. There are a few houses that are on the market if push comes to shove, but the King of Thieves paid off this time, giving me a contract to use.
“You’ve booked past Valentine’s." She puts her elbow on the desk, leaning toward me, the expression on her face making it clear she wants to know everything about my love life.
She’d be rather disappointed. I’m sure as shit not going to tell her that Tinsley Blake is going to be my Valentine. I have quickly learned that Betty is a talker, and that would spread faster than Tinsley jumping to conclusions, at least about me.
“If I haven’t let my Valentine in on it, I can’t tell others.”
“Fine,” Betty relents reluctantly. "But this town can help. We're good at these things."
"I'll keep that in mind." I take the key off the desk.
"The bar closes at ten or when Jimbob gets bored. We have breakfast at nine if you want to join."
"Thanks." I give her a nod before taking the stairs next to the front desk.
The house is beautiful. The stairs wrap around with a landing with a giant window that gives you a view of the mountains. They don't make them this way anymore, and Betty has preserved the history of the inn.
My room is as nice as the rest of the house. A canopy bed with flowery wallpaper that coats the walls. There is a fireplace with a couple of chairs in front of it and a Christmas tree in front of the bay window that's been decorated with Valentine's ornaments.
There is a box next to the claw tub that has candles all around it. I flick it open to see rose petals inside. They do all this for Valentine’s, and she said it was nothing. I really do need to see Christmas here. If things work out as they should, I will.
I've gotten far in life because of my utter determination and often grit. It's not always about pushing through things; sometimes it's about holding on. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a challenge and even longer since something has piqued my interest, but this is more than a peek.
I’ve been restless, and my thoughts are ruled by a spitfire blonde with pink streaks in her hair and glitter freckles. I got as much of her as I could dig up to sate myself while I worked out getting here.
I might have sent my assistant Rory into a fit when I told her to clear my schedule. I can do most things remotely, and lately I haven’t been doing much of anything. There hasn't been a pitched investment in months that I've taken on. Nothing is sparking or holding my interest. That is besides her. My little spitfire has had all of my attention from the moment I laid eyes on her.
