Page 10

No. Absolutely not.

I’m a big girl. Always have been. And I've dealt with nastier people than Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devilish here.

Try having a beauty-obsessed grandmother telling you that you're too fat since you’re twelve. You either develop a thick skin or spend your entire life bleeding.

I chose thick skin a long time ago.

So I plant one hand on my hip.

“I do, in fact, intend to live here.”

A curtain moves in an upstairs window. Damian's gaze jerks toward it. His expression turns murderous.

“And,” I continue, louder now, “I intend to reopen the bed-and-breakfast.”

His head whips back toward me.

“No.”

I blink.

“No?”

“Absolutely not.”

I laugh. I can't help it.

His wings flare.

“Oh, you're serious.”

“It isn't zoned for commercial lodging.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It isn't.”

“It is.”

“I've lived next door for three years.”

“And I've owned this house for almost three weeks and in those three weeks, I did my research. This was originally called Bell’s Books, Bed & Breakfast.”

His mouth opens. I hold up the deed.

“Would you like to see the paperwork?”

“No.”

“Because I have it.”

“I don't need to see it.”

“You seem like you need to see it.”

“I said no.”

“Then stop telling me what I can do with my property.”