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“Kids who broke into private property, a space you paid for with a reasonable expectation of safety and peace.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, rubbing between my eyes. I so didn’t need this shit show tonight, even if she’s being weirdly accommodating. “We’ve taken up enough of your time, Miss Winnie. We’ll be out of your hair in a flash. You can be sure I’ll be crediting you with a free stay for your trouble.”
“Oh. Um.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all.” She hesitates. “I kinda wondered if I could get an extension on my stay? Like, what are your weekly rates? I’ll pay for the rest of it beyond what I booked, of course.”
I look at her like she’s insane.
She must be.
What person would ask to continue a honeymoon here after this disaster? Then again, with the wedding cake out and her dress on the floor, it could be a casual situation where they plan to spend the week in bed.
“You want to know the weekly rates,” I say, checking to make sure I heard her right.
“Yeah, I mean…” Her teeth pull at her bottom lip, sucking like it’s a comfort. I watch her for too long before I realize what I’m doing.
Fuck.
It’s too late and too awkward for this kind of crap.
“I can afford it if that’s what you’re thinking?”
“No. I’m just surprised you’d like to stay longer, after everything.”
“The kids? I’m sure it’s a fluke. A one-time thing.” She glances over at them with what could almost be fondness.
Colt has finished greedily devouring his cake. He’s looking at me with suspicion, or maybe hoping Winnie can plead his case before he’s sentenced to the doghouse.
Cool it, boy. It’s coming.
“I mean, sure, they scared me at first,” Winnie says with a laugh, “but I like this place a lot. I just got here but I can tell it’s really calming. I can’t wait to see it in the daylight. It also has bees!”
Bees?
For the third time tonight, I’m shocked almost speechless.
I honestly forgot we had a few bee boxes at the end of the garden.
I didn’t think it would be a draw for most people. I mostly let it ride because my landscaper suggested it, an add-on that punched his happy environmental buttons.
But Winnie lights up like a Christmas tree.
Not just a quick smile. More like something switched on inside her.
It’s rare to see a brightness like that. Her eyes glimmer, her smile glows, and I swear her entire body rises, poised on her tiptoes, giving the illusion she’s about to go airborne.
Weird? Hell yes.
Of all the things in the world to get excited over, this woman picks bees. But if it saves her from suing me and somehow convinces her to pay usmoremoney, fine.
I’ve never understood customer psychology.
“Yes. Yes, there are bees,” I say after a second, when it’s clear she’s expecting a response. I clear my throat. “I’ll look into the weekly costs and make sure we have no booking conflicts on the calendar, and then I’ll get back to you or your husband, Winnie.”
Boom.
The spark in her eyes instantly snuffs out.