Page 56 of American Royalty

“Yours was worse than Sally’s, and she came in last and got kicked off.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, sis,” Nyla said cheekily. “You know, you could just ask Margery to make it for you. She was a sweetheart. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“Iwanted to do it. And I will. This has to be the bottom. It can only get better, right?”

“One would hope.”

Dani pushed away from the counter. “I should start cleaning this up.”

“That’s a good idea,” Nyla said, moving her head as if trying tosee the entire tableau through the screen. “It looks like it’ll take you a while.”

“Want to keep me company?”

“Uhhh, no. I’ve got better things to do than watch your tragic version of black Cinderella. Peace!”

Nyla threw up the deuces and disconnected the call.

Dani looked around. Some vacation this was turning out to be. She’d really lost her damned mind. This was a lot. Even for her.

She took a fortifying sip of champagne, donned the heavy-duty yellow rubber gloves, and started by tossing everything she’d baked into the trash. No one should be subjected to noxious nibbles.

Not even her host.

Probably.

The sink was filled with glass and ceramic mixing bowls of various sizes and discarded pans, all sacrificed on the altar of her baking ambitions. She removed everything from the basin, rinsing each item in hot water and setting it aside for proper cleaning later.

“‘Tragic black Cinderella.’ Good one, Ny,” she muttered, laughing beneath her breath while she gathered the tools and cooking utensils she’d dirtied.

A scraping sound startled her and she almost dropped the bundle she held. Turning, she found Jameson standing there.

Scowling.

She inhaled several calming breaths to soothe her panicked heart, then carefully placed the pile next to the sink. “Come to yell at me some more?”

“No. Although I could.” He motioned around the room. “But I thought you could use some help.”

Was he for real? Or was this all part of his diabolical plan toget revenge by lulling her into a false sense of gratitude and then changing his mind?

“Why? I made the mess; I should have to clean it up.”

“I know.” Still, he grabbed the broom leaning against the wall, and started sweeping.

For a long time, the only sounds that filled the space were the skimming of bristles across the wooden floor, running water, and the clang of glass on glass.

You know what you have to do.

She sighed deeply and faced him. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I have no excuse except I was bored and still a little pissed at you.”

When he didn’t immediately respond, she turned back to the sink and grabbed the sponge, scouring the unlucky bowl with such ferocity she thought she’d scrub through the enamel.

He didn’t have to accept her apology, but it was the polite thing to do!

“I haven’t been a gracious host,” he finally admitted. “In fact, I’ve been a right ass. I invited you to stay in my home and then behaved as if it were an imposition. This was between me and my grandmother. None of this was your fault. And I apologize.”

Her mouth actually dropped open. She hadn’t expected that at all. “I accept your apology.”