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I sigh, pulling out the tabloid sheafs tucked under my arm. “Let me shed some light on this situation so you can understand my proposal.”
“Sit, sit,” Jacqueline Lark urges. “Don’t look so awkward, boy. Food first. Explaining later. Or are you telling me you don’t like good home-cooked eggs?”
I find myself sitting without even thinking about it.
Perhaps because she reminds me a little too much of someone else so close to my heart.
Guess all it takes is a fussy older woman to render me into an obedient little boy again.
Still, I’d rather not get too familiar or dawdle too long.
One muffin. That’s all I agreed to, and one damn muffin is all I will eat.
Leaning forward, I set the tabloids in the center of the little round table. My elbow brushes Miss Lark as I do. The table is small enough to bring her scent to me, more of that biting sweetness I can’t quite identify. “If you’ll—”
“Didn’t I say explanations later?” Jacqueline says with mock sternness. With one hand, she plucks the papers from me and turns them face down before anyone can see more than a flash of the covers. With the other hand, she scoops up a huge serving of steaming, cheese-threaded, bacon-flecked scrambled eggs onto my plate. “Don’t be rude, now. Eat.”
Sighing, I glance skeptically at Miss Lark.
She flashes me the same sunny smile and plunks a muffin down on my plate. “Don’t be such a grouch. If you really want me to marry you, she’s going to be your grandmother-in-law.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I scowl.
The giggle she can’t suppress says everything.
I hate my life.
Across the table, Miss Joly had started to pick up her fork as Jacqueline Lark served her. Now it drops to the plate with a clatter. She stares at us with her jaw hanging open.
“Okay. No. Explanations now. Elle, you—I thought you didn’t know each other! He proposed?” Her jaw hangs open.
“Guess so,” Miss Lark answers with a shrug as she reaches for the pan of eggs to serve herself a heap. “No idea why, but he’ll explain after we eat, won’t he?”
Jacqueline chortles and scoops up a forkful of her own eggs right before she drops a second muffin on my plate and fills my cup with a rich, orange-brown tea with a citrus scent.
“Imagine that. My little Ellie, my first grandchild to get married. And to bring me such a handsome grandson-in-law too!”
Fuck.
My lips work incoherently, then slump.
I pinch the bridge of my nose so hard I’m shocked it doesn’t bleed.
How did I lose all control of this situation so catastrophically and so fast?
They’ve cornered me.
I don’t normally bother with breakfast, considering how late I sleep, but I’ll indulge this once since it seems to be the only way I’m getting through this alive.
I pick up the little sugar shaker on the table and dash some into my tea, just the way I like it.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I say grudgingly. If only because the woman Jacqueline Lark reminds me of would rap my knuckles red for forgetting my manners.
I settle in to eat, remembering my manners only because I won’t embarrass myself by wolfing down the food in order to get this over with ASAP.
Miss Joly clearly has no reservations.
She stuffs enough muffin into her mouth to look like a chipmunk, still watching me and Miss Lark with wide, curious eyes.
