“Marshmallow!” Begonia shrieks.
I look down.
Then at her.
Then at her dog, who’s carrying something that looks very much like the first piece of wood I ever saw in his jaws.
But this—this is not a Maurice Bellitano original.
Oh, no.
“Is that from Great Grandma Eileen’s collection?” I inquire softly.
Begonia’s gaze connects with mine, and it’s so very identical to the first time Marshmallow stole something from me that I start laughing.
“Hayes. The children,” she hisses. “Tell the dog to take it home.”
I would.
And I should. He still only takes orders from me.
But I can’t seem to get myself under control.
“Marshmallow, go home,” Begonia orders.
He ignores her, naturally.
“Go give it to Grandma Giovanna,” I manage to push out.
“Hayes.”
Her voice is outraged, but her eyes—her eyes are shining in amusement.
And when Marshmallow takes off up the stairs to my mother, the dildo dangling from his jaws, I rise as well, lifting my love with me as I go. “Thank you for spending part of your summer at Camp Funshine,” I tell the campers. “Excuse us. I believe this lady is now mine. Jonas, come apologize for us properly, please.”
With my famous brother suddenly announced, no one notices as I carry Begonia off the stage.
No one except her, that is. And probably our families.
“Hayes. We have to make sure that’s the only piece of Great Grandma Eileen’s collection that he brought out here,” she whispers.
“I’m sure Hyacinth would be delighted to do it for us.”
She stares at me a beat longer before she, too, starts laughing. “Do you know how much I love you? Truly love you? Simply because you’re you?”
I settle her on the ground behind a copse of pine trees, link my arms around her waist. “I have an inkling. And now I’d very much like to show you how much I love you.”
And I do.
Just as I intend to show her how much I love her every day for the rest of our lives.
Hi, you amazing reader you! It’s Begonia, and I have two special bits of information for you! One, if you want to know about Hayes and me crashing that funeral, you can find that little scene by clicking this link HERE! You'll get a chance to subscribe to Pippa's newsletter, which you should absolutely do if you loved our story because the Pipster Report is basically the most fun you can have outside the pages of a Pippa Grant book. And two, keep reading for a sneak peek at The One Who Loves You! It features a grumpy hero and a high society heroine who's turning his little town upside down, and I think it's Pippa's second-best book ever. （After her book about Hayes, of course.）
P.S. If you found a magical spelling error in this book, email Pippa at [email protected] for a special surprise!
P.P.S. If you’re the awesome type of person who likes to leave reviews, here are quick links for you to Amazon and Goodreads.
SNEAK PEEK OF THE ONE WHO LOVES YOU
If you love fish-out-of-water rom-coms featuring a pampered princess in the backwoods of Wisconsin going head-to-head with a grumpy single dad, read on for a sneak peek at The One Who Loves You, coming Summer 2022.
Teague Miller is a very hard person to find.
As if that will stop me.
Navigating the uneven sidewalks and cobblestone streets in a pair of Jimmy Choos won’t either.
But my moment of hesitation comes when I realize the address I’ve been given is a field of goats surrounded by mile-high Christmas trees, undecorated and in their native land.
“Hello?” I call.
A resounding “Are you kidding me?” echoes over a field of bleating goats behind a fence and tells me I’m in the right place, though there’s not a house in sight.
Does he live in a hole in the ground? This part was not in that damn movie that Gigi wants to re-create in order to find her soul. “Mr. Miller? Hello?”
“How may I be of assistance, Ms. Lightly?”
Is he in a tree? Is he seriously climbing trees?
The flannel and the beard made him look like a fishing lumberjack yesterday, but I did not expect to find him actually sitting in a tree.
“Where are you?”
“Almost exactly where I want to be.”
“Which is?”
“In my home.”
I am so confused. I lower my sunglasses and peer through the goats. “Where is your home?”
“Right where I’m at.”
“I had a professor who liked to talk in riddles once. He’s now unemployed and living in Greenland.”