Page 121 of The Accidental Innkeeper

“Dottie Wrappers,” she announced, beaming. “Trademark pending.”

Before I could respond, she grabbed one, folded it with expert speed, and stuffed it directly into my mouth.

I blinked in surprise, my cheeks full. “Mmmph,” I said.

“Chew,” she ordered. “Then judge.”

I chewed. Bacon. Eggs. Cheese. Salt. Happiness. Possibly healing properties.

“Yummy,” I said once I could speak again. “Okay. More than yummy. That’s very good.”

“I know,” she said smugly. “I made them for people who forget to eat when they’re busy being emotionally responsible. Like you.”

“I feel attacked.”

She flipped another wrap. “Good. That means it’s working.”

I laughed. “I feel energized to go clean.” I grabbed a rag from the counter, still chewing, and wandered toward the den. If I was already upright and fed, I might as well be productive. That was my new thing—functional coping.

Plus, I needed to burn off the extra carbs from Dottie’s cooking before my closet turned on me.

I gave Edna-portrait a nod. “Edna,” I said quietly. “You’re looking chippy this morning.”

Her painted eyes stared back at me, judgmental as ever. I took that as encouragement.

I smiled despite myself. I started dusting the side table followed by the bookshelf, moving slowly to let the normalcy of it all sink in. The den looked good—lived-in but tidy, like a place where people curled up with coffee and a good book to forget what time it was. Like a place where people stayed awhile instead of rushing through.

I heard footsteps and turned to see Mr. and Mrs. Drew, a couple from Maine, wandering in, coffee mugs in hand, settling into one of our plush sofas. They smiled at me. I smiled back, polite, warm, and respectful. It was all very wholesome.

Until Lola showed up.

“There you are,” she purred.

The gorgeous blonde sashayed her way over to me, tight red pants clinging for dear life and barely containing all her curves while her low black blouse looked wildly inappropriate for a morning that still involved breakfast wraps and caffeine dependency. She looked like she was heading to a late brunch with a man whose name she didn’t intend to remember.

“Here I am,” I answered. “In daylight. With witnesses. You need something?”

Lola grinned. “More sex would be nice,” she said cheerfully.

I shot a look toward the Drews. Both of them were staring openly now, Mrs. Drew clutching her coffee like it had suddenly become educational.

Fantastic.

“I meant,” I said through my teeth, “what do you need from me.”

“Well,” said Lola, lowering her voice just enough to imply gossip without actually reducing volume, “I happen to have information that I know you’re going to want to know.”

I straightened, dread blooming. “What? Please tell me Helen hasn’t already started working on the fall festival. I’m still recuperating from the Pearls & Pints.” The thought of another festival so soon made my gut clench. My soul simply could not handle more bunting.

Lola waved a dismissive hand. “Relax. Nothing involving pumpkins, or handcuffs and whips,” she said with a grin. “That’s a different conversation.”

Yeah, I had no idea what she was talking about. I exhaled. “Okay. Fine.”

“Better,” she said brightly. She waited to get my full attention. “Alex is back in town.”

My hand stilled on the rag.

“A friend of mine saw him at Maple Mug Café this morning,” she continued. “Alive. Present. Just as sexy as ever.”