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Fletcher walked her to the front desk, where she clocked in using the family system in the back office. Then he walked her right to the dining room. He settled in at the small table she had privately thought of as his since about day one of seeing him around the inn all the time.

Her second-cousin Casey, a seventeen-year-old who worked at the inn before school started every day, already had everything lined up out of the freezer and fridge. Dylan would be responsible for the cooking-slash-heating everything up portion of the shift. She liked it—there was a clear routine, thanks to Meyra—and it allowed her time to think.

She had one big thing to think about today.

This time, she had two sisters already in there. “What’s up?”

“Large bunch of film executives and producers checked in late last night to surprise us. From Hollywood and Finley Creek this time. You are going to need the help,” Dusty said around a yawn. “I do not like mornings.”

“You used to, until you had a Ben-Ben to wrap all around,” Dixie said sarcastically. Well, Dylan could understand the appeal of a Ben-Ben to wrap around. She was seriously considering wrapping herself around a Fletchie, after all.

“Of course. I could be at home right now, wrapped up around him. But we are both here now.”

Dylan had seen him in the dining room. Fletcher was sitting with him. “Ben work up an appetite this morning?”

Her sister’s lips looked a little swollen there…Dylan couldn’t resist touching her own.

Those Tyler boys. Wow. Totally dangerous to women.

“Probably same way Fletcher did,” Dusty said, smirking back. “So…are you boinking him yet? How was your trip? Nice and romantic? We saw him kissing you through the window, Dylan Geraldine. I started getting a little overheated this morning—again. Since I do have my own version of him and everything. So spill…”

Dylan’s cheeks flamed bright red. She had totally forgotten they were parked by the kitchen’s side window. He had just kissed her and she’d lost all sanity. In an instant.

“So?” Dixie asked, turning on the industrial ovens they’d use to reheat the food Meyra had already cooked and frozen for later. No wonder Casey had gotten out so much. Movie execs ate like pigs sometimes. “Have you boinked Fletcher yet?”

“I have not boinked Fletcher.” Dylan thought for a moment. If she couldn’t be honest with her sisters—Casey had left already, thankfully, she was just a kid—then who could she be? Besides, Dusty was uniquely qualified to help her figure things out here. Since she did have her own version, after all. “Yet. I have not boinked him, yet. And why do we always use the word boinked around here anyway?”

“That would be Miranda and Charlotte’s doing. They are always talking about boinking,” Dusty said. “Kind of irritating really. Well, when you?—”

“Aren’t the one doing the boinking?” Dixie finished, grabbing potholders and lining them up where they were supposed to be. “Tell me about it. Anyway…what is the hold up? You’ve been living with him for over a month, and he took you on a romantic getaway. I didn’t figure he’d hold out that long.”

“I did—well, my bet was that you would hold out for six weeks. So…spill.” Dusty was already venting foil pans.

They had this kitchen thing down to a science, the Talley girls. No doubt about that. Dixie would fill the buffet when the food was warmed.

Casey was out there taking Ben and Fletcher’s orders, probably. Those two boys could eat .

The door swung open. Darcey was right there. “Hey…saw your boy toy out there, Dusty. You forget how to cook for him at home?”

“I didn’t have enough groceries on hand, nor time to cook for him this morning. He had…other things on his mind than food—and it was his turn to cook anyway. My Tyler man can eat. What are you doing up so early?” Dusty said. Darcey was usually on during the busiest times of the day—or evening when needed. She tended to be snarly before ten a.m.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d check in down here.” She looked at Dylan. “Enjoy yourself in Texas?”

Dylan just nodded. This was the sister she struggled with the most. It was just a fact. They had totally different personalities. And they clashed, no denying that. Probably because in her opinion, Darcey was a bit too much like a quieter version of one Arthur Talley the Poophead. Always wanting to be the one in charge… “It was nice. We went to the zoo and a few other places. Including Mamaw’s Place Diner. It was really cool. Vintage.”

“I’ve been there with Char.” Darcey stared at her for a long moment. Like she was concerned or something. It made Dylan want to squirm. “Are you okay? Char told me about your little run-in with Bruce Tyler down there.”

Then Dylan had to explain the one dark spot on her trip. “But it was okay. We know where he is now, and Char’s dad was there with Rory—and Glenna and Phil Tyler were down there for some legal reason they couldn’t talk about—and Charlie believed us when we said Bruce was a wanted fugitive. So the TSP are looking for Bruce now. Then Fletcher took me to the Barratt-Finley Creek. Their best dining room. I wore one of Charlotte’s dresses again. And it was really nice.”

Darcey smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time, and it gave good old Daddy dearest fits to have you down there for three whole days with a man. And a Tyler man, at that. That was really fun to watch.”

“I do my part.” She was doing her part now, fixing Fletcher’s plate. “Hand me some whole wheat toast. That boy is not getting a biscuit. He had two sticky buns before he even drove me here.”

“She’s keeping him. Takes it very seriously,” Dusty told Darcey. “Says he needs more than just housekeeper help.”

“Of course, she is. Of course he does,” Darcey said. She looked at Dylan. “So…are you boinking him yet?”

Dylan almost dropped the plate. She looked at three of her four big sisters. “Does everyone around here think I’m boinking Fletcher now?”

Their matching expressions were all the answer she needed.

Green-eyed buttheads. They were so the Poophead’s daughters.