Page 30 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

I straighten and fall into step beside her without asking.

She notices. “You’re just walking with me now?”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing around, taking in the scenery. “Seems like the right move.”

“You weren’t invited.”

I glance at her. “I don’t recall that being a requirement.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a lightness in it. “You and your friend are basically the same people.”

“Oh, we already know,” I say. “You should see us at breakfast. It’s like a dysfunctional boy band, but with worse attitudes.”

We walk in silence for a few steps, and it’s easy. Not awkward, not forced. Just the sound of our boots on the road, Daisy’s nails clicking every now and then, the distant noise of the town settling into evening.

She notices that too. I can tell.

“So,” I say, glancing at her sideways, “give me the tour.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Of what?”

“The town.”

“It’s not that big.”

“Perfect,” I say. “Then we should be done in, what, five minutes? Ten, if you get distracted?”

She stops walking this time, turning to look at me properly. “You’ve been here how long?”

“Three weeks.”

“And you haven’t seen it all?”

“I haven’t had a guided tour,” I correct, tilting my head. “I need your version of it.”

There’s a pause.

She studies me, trying to figure out the catch, where the angle is, what I’m trying to get out of this.

I don’t give her anything.

Eventually, she sighs.

“Fine,” she says. “But if you ask me where the nearest Starbucks is, I’m leaving you in a ditch.”

“Fair,” I say. “I deserve that.”

She starts walking again, and I fall back into step beside her, matching her pace without thinking about it.

“This,” she says, gesturing vaguely around us, “is the road.”

“Incredible. Truly groundbreaking.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“I would never dream of it.”

She points ahead. “That’s the square. Farmers’ market on Sundays. Overpriced jam, decent bread, and way too many people pretending they understand honey.”