Page 29 of The Princess and the Pizza Man

The heat from Bells’ curling iron was stinking up the entire suite. Will’s brows furrowed, and he hoisted himself off his bed.

“So tell me,” he said, entering the shared living space between their two rooms, “what’s the point o’ doing your hair before swimmin’?”

Bells turned toward him, a grimace on her already done-up face. “If y’all have to ask, you don’t understand me as well as I thought ya did.”

He nodded, slumping against the doorframe of the massive bathroom she’d claimed every inch of. Will was surprised she hadn’t made him use the community restrooms down the hall when he had to do his business.

“You ought to take a page from my book, here,” she said, giving him a once over, the curling iron poised in the air as it smoked her red strands. “You could use a bit of sprucing up.”

His hand went straight to his beard. “It’s not that bad,” he lied. Truth was, the thing had gotten out of hand over the past few days without trimming. He hated shaving, which was why he only did it when the customers in his pizza place would wrinkle their noses at his beard… or when he knew Penelope would be present. Without either of those reasons being a problem here, he hadn’t given it much thought.

But there was an odd feeling that he didn’t have very often—that Bells might have had a point. No way would he tell her so, though.

“You’re coming down for the party, right?” she said, a springy curl bouncing by her face as she released the curling iron.

“I dunno…”

“Party pooper,” she sang, bopping her head back and forth every syllable. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“It’s a pool party. Forgive me for not thinking to bring my bathing suit to a place called Frostville.”

Her brow pulled in. “They provide the suits, Will. They got all kinds in the closet down the hall.”

“You been snooping around?”

“I’ve been reading the guest pamphlet.” She grabbed another chunk of hair and wrapped it around the iron. “Go check it out. I’m sure they’ve got plenty of choices in your size.”

He rubbed his beard again. Yeah, he really should give it a trim. “I’m not sure ‘bout swimming, Bells. Ain’t it supposed to rain?”

“Indoor pool.” She gave him a look. “Weren’t you payin’ attention at all during lunch?”

Honestly, he hadn’t. His brain had switched to the off button as soon as he saw Winter walk in with Michael’s bulky arm over her delicate shoulder. He was comforting her—part of the act, Will was sure—but fiery darts had pierced just behind his neck, and every word he said came out muffled and distant. Just remembering had his neck flaring up again.

“Even if you don’t swim, there will be plenty of clues dropped. Don’t you want to figure out who the murderer is?”

He snorted, pushing off the doorframe. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

She set the curling iron down and put a hand on his chest, mouth wide open. “Oh my goodness, yes. But her name hasn’t been tossed around at all.”

“Her?” Will let out a confused laugh. “Who you thinkin’ it is?”

“Ms. Vancouver.” She tilted her head. “I figured you’d be the first one to suspect. You spend all your time with her. Well… her and the princess.”

Will’s heart thrummed fast and thin, and heat flushed his ears. “Do not.” Great, his only defense was something he hadn’t said since he was eight years old.

Bells pursed her lips together, her silence upsetting him more than if she’d said something. He let out a long, defeated breath. “I’ll go get a suit.”

She moved the iron to clap and jump on her toes. “Yay!”

“Two-and-a-half more days left of this place,” he called over his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend you ain’t happy to be here!” she called back. “I haven’t seen homesick Will all day.”

He shook his head and quickly stepped into the hallway. He didn’t want to admit just how many times Bells had hit the nail right on the head in just one conversation.

The indoor pool was hidden away in the basement, the steps leading just past the closet Will had stuffed Winter into on that first night. As they’d past it, a smile crept onto his face.

There were several servers in blue vests wandering around with trays of drinks and appetizers, and Will found the one with the bacon-wrapped cocktail wieners and followed that guy around like a salivating puppy. Bells had found her beau, sniffing him out the moment they’d walked in. She was parked on a chaise lounge with a drink in her hand and a flirt in her laugh. Will kept one eye on her and one eye on the food.

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