Page 25 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

“Not what I said, and you know it.”

“It’s exactly what you said, actually.”

She rolled her eyes at me, and I found it incredibly attractive. “You know,” I nodded at the room, “this used to be my room.”

She looked around. “But you don’t live at the B&B now, do you?”

“Not anymore, but when I was thirteen, I lived right here. They put the wardrobe there because taking down my posters caused too much damage to the wallpaper, and it was easier to move the furniture than repaint.”

“Your posters?”

“Yeah, you know, a couple bands, theStar Warsmovies, a blown-up picture of you from the sixth-grade yearbook. Cut it out and took it to a local print shop myself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You're lying.”

“You’ll never know.”

“I could always ask the poor people who had to raise you—didn’t you say your grandparents owned this B&B?” She crossed her arms. “Do they live here too? I bet they’d dish out a bunch of embarrassing facts about you.”

“They totally would,” I admitted. “No familial loyalty, those two.”

She just lifted a brow because that had not answered her questions.

I rolledmy shoulders back. Did I want to get into this? But she was watching me expectantly, and I couldn’t come up with a quick enough lie. Not that I wanted to lie to her anyway. “My grandpa is in the hospital. Gram has been staying with him.”

Her mouth opened just a fraction. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, is everything okay?”

“Would be, if Pops would consent to hip surgery.” Seeing her confused look, and wanting to move past the fact that my tone had been immensely salty, I added, “He fell the day you got here. Surgery is scary and something he can’t control, so he doesn’t want to do it.”

“But you want him to get the surgery now?”

I nodded. “So does my Gram, but Pops has always taken his time making decisions. Took him half a decade to agree to open the B&B in the first place. Another three years to start running tours.”

She gave me a sad smile. “I’m sorry, that’s a lot to deal with. You don’t have to take me—”

I cut her off, not needing her to finish that sentence. “Nope, I want to. Come on, let’s go.”

She looked unsure, but folded her jacket over her arm and followed me anyway. We were both quiet as we walked down the creaky wooden stairs. Hopefully, I hadn’t completely squashed the mood for the rest of the day. The Hastings family was all down at the beach today, so besides the few staff members Gram and Pops employed, we were the only ones there.

“Have you had breakfast?” I asked as we passed the dining room, where Greta was cleaning up the morning meal.

“Yep. Your grandparents’ cook is fantastic.”

I opened the front door for her, followed her out on the porch, and closed it behind me. “Gram usually does the breakfast, and I can tell you in my completely unbiased opinion that it is even better.” I whispered the last bitbecause Greta really was a fantastic cook, but she wasn’t my grandma. And Gram was the undisputed best.

I opened the passenger door for Lucy, waiting as she slid in and began to buckle her seat belt before I closed it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Lucy said when I got to my side.

“Do what?” I turned on the van, checking in the rearview mirror.

“Open my doors and everything.”

I began to reach for the AC but stopped myself, turning on the radio instead, the volume down low. “Don’t girls love that stuff? Chivalry isn’t dead and all?”

“Is that why you do it?”

I shook my head. “No, I do it because my grandma and grandpa raised a gentleman, and I may be a menace, but I won’t let anyone say they didn’t do their best.”

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