Page 214 of The Heartbreaker for Hire

Ginger started making my latte when they saw my car pull up.

Last Tuesday, Mrs. Valentine informed me that Damon and I should consider having children before I turned thirty-five.

I had never even told Mrs. Valentine my age. Or my reproductive plans. Or my name, technically.

"I think Mrs. Valentine has a surveillance operation," I told Damon as I climbed into the golf cart, salad in hand.

"She's in her nineties."

"That makes her more dangerous. Nobody suspects the elderly."

"She likes you, too."

"Everyone likes me. It's exhausting."

Damon laughed. I hated how much I loved that sound. I hated even more that I loved this ridiculous town. Not that I'd ever admit it. I had a reputation to maintain.

The Lockhart family barbecue was already in full swing when we arrived.

Smoke drifted from the grill. Country music played from someone's speaker. Children chased each other across the lawn while his brothers argued about whether Deacon had overcooked the burgers.

Spoiler alert: He had.

Selma appeared before I’d even set down my salad.

"Kayla!" She hugged me like I'd returned from war instead of arriving twenty minutes later than she'd requested. "You're too skinny. Have you been eating?"

Had she been speaking to my mother? "I ate breakfast."

"Coffee isn't breakfast."

"How do you know I had coffee?"

She gave me a look. Right. The surveillance network was not limited to Mrs. Valentine.

She whisked away my pasta salad, and the next thing I knew, Damon slipped his arm around my waist. "Come here. I want to show you something."

"I’ve seen it already.” I smiled up at him. “Twice today.”