Page 29 of The Belle and the Biker

She pouts, her glossy pink mouth puckering in dismay. “I wish you wouldn’t be so difficult. Your father is interested in making a good match for you, and it would be a mutually beneficial business arrangement for both of our families. This is how things are done in our circles. We wouldn’t have to be exclusive as long as we were discreet about it.”

“Oh, yeah, my dad’s all about being discreet. Except when he accidentally, indiscreetly knocked up my mother. She was a waitress at a diner; did you know that?”

Astrid winces delicately, “Well, that’s history, isn’t it? I don’t hold it against you.”

“Excuse me?” I bellow. I shoot to my feet, knocking my barstool to the floor. “You don’t hold what against me? The fact that my mom was trash? You’re willing to overlook that?”

She takes a couple of steps back, her hands fluttering nervously. “Please think it over. You’d be financially set for the rest of your life. We’d make beautiful babies. Our children would never know poverty like you did. They’d go to the best schools. Their future would be golden.” She tilts her head to the side in an attempt to look sexy and seductive. “And I promise you I’m a lot of fun.”

“Not based on what I’ve seen so far. Don’t let the door hit your bony ass on the way out.” And I stalk off to the bathroom without looking back.

CHAPTER11

Savannah

By my sixth day here,I’m starting to get used to waking up at the crack of dawn. As usual, I rush to shower to make it to the breakfast table in time for Great-Aunt Hepzibah to lecture me about my slothful habits.

When I emerge from the bathroom, wearing a lime green dress that flatters my bust wonderfully, I look for Tiddlywinks. She’s not in her little blanket-nest. “Tiddlywinks?” I yell. There’s no answering yip. My heart pounds in my chest. If she got out somehow, there’s no telling what kind of critters she’d run into.

I rush into the hall and almost knock Carlisle over.

“Have you seen Tiddlywinks? Sorry, good morning. But have you seen her?”

“I believe she is in the solarium with your great-aunt. Madam sent me here to inform you that breakfast is being served in the solarium this morning.”

Whew. My heart slows back down to normal.

“Were you having a nightmare about a car accident earlier?” Carlisle asks with a look of concern.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“You were yelling something about a crash.”

My face flames with heat. Oh my God. Yes, I had another X-rated dream about Crash last night. I’ve been having them every night since he came back from California. Is it my fault that he oozes sex pheromones? That man is an addictive drug, and the FDA should regulate him. Letting him roam free is unsafe, fogging women’s minds and making it dangerous for us to operate heavy machinery.

“Oh, wait. It’s coming to me now. Yes, I had a dream about a car accident.” I glance around, unable to meet Carlisle’s gaze.

“Are you looking for something, madam?”

A giant hole to sink into.

“I’ll just go join Aunt Hepzibah.”

“Very good, madam.”

Aunt Hepzibah and Tiddlywinks are settled into white wicker chairs in the middle of the solarium. Like everything else in this house, it’s exactly the same as I remembered from my childhood. The room is a vast dome of glass panels framed in white wood. Tall potted plants in ceramic planters loom over my head, giving the room a jungle feel. The green-and-pink tropical print seat cushions have faded slightly over the last few decades, but haven’t we all?

Tiddlywinks dances excitedly on her chair. Aunt Hepzibah is feeding Tiddlywinks little bits of bacon. “Sit!” Tiddlywinks obeys her instantly. “There you go.” She hands her a scrap of meat.

“I thought I’d lost her,” I say, sitting across from her. I pour myself coffee from the ceramic pot allegedly used to serve tea to a general during the War of Northern Aggression. “Did you come to get her when I was in the shower?”

“I was anxious to start teaching her proper etiquette since I know your family is severely lacking in that department. I think it might be a genetic defect. You should get tested.” She lowers the bacon to the seat cushion. “Lie down.”

Tiddlywinks obeys instantly and is rewarded with another piece of bacon and an approving smile that looks out of place on Hepzibah’s sour puss.

I serve myself pancakes, butter, and a generous helping of syrup. “We are from the same gene pool, you realize.”

“Yes, but your family is from the shallow end.” She shakes her head at me chidingly. “I mean, look at the state of her. Her collar isn’t even monogrammed; she’ll suffer a severe identity crisis.”

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