And I’m more pissed than I’ve been in a very, very long time.

“Gabby.”

I ignore my stupid, pig-headed brother and continue walking.

“Gabby, I’m sorry.”

“You should be!” I whirl on him and shove him in the chest, hard, but he doesn’t even flinch or move.

Damn huge brothers.

“I’m not a baby, Beau.”

“You’re the baby, Gabs.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking all tall and steady.

“But I’m not a baby. I’m a grown woman, who runs a business and single parents her child. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

He frowns and looks ready to argue. “Look, I’m sorry I made you mad—”

“You humiliated me,” I reply passionately. “You embarrassed me in front of a man that I happen to like. And do you have any idea how long it’s been since I liked anyone, Beau? Since Colby.”

“No way,” he replies with shock.

“Way. I’ve done nothing but what I’m supposed to. I am a damn good mom, and I’m damn good at running this inn, and damn it, if I want to kiss a man, I’ll damn well do it!” I’m pacing back and forth now, punctuating each damn with a finger in the air, pointed at my idiot brother.

“Okay.”

“I mean, it’s not like Rhys is a damn serial killer, for crying out loud! He’s practically Kate’s brother. He’s a good guy. And for some incredible reason, he likes me.”

“I know.”

“And I would never do anything to hurt Sam, so don’t stand there and look at me like I’m whoring around in front of my son.”

“I would never think that, and I’m sorry if I implied it.”

Finally, I come to a stop and stare at Beau. “You’re agreeing with me.”

“I am.” He nods and offers me that smile that makes it so I can’t be mad at him for long.

“Why?”

He shrugs and pulls me into a hug. “I don’t like making you mad, or upsetting you. I never could stand to see you off-kilter, even as a baby.”

“I’m not a damn baby.” My voice is calmer now, resigned. “Why are you agreeing with me?”

“Rhys put me in my place.” He chuckles and backs away from me. “I think he might be good for you.”

“Meaning?”

“Just that.” He tugs on a strand of my hair, and I realize that he’s not in work attire.

“Why are you home? It’s Monday.”

“I took a personal day.”

I blink and frown. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“A personal day, Gabby. As in, a day off that isn’t a weekend.”

More blinking and frowning. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

“I’m your idiot brother who should have turned around and backed away when he found some guy sucking my sister’s face into his mouth.” He shudders dramatically, making me laugh.

“Oh, I know you, then.” I hug him to me once more. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Feed me?”

“Dude, you missed that train. But I’m sure I can find you some scraps. Rhys will be around.”

“I’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, and alligators might fly out of my ass.”

“Ouch.”

***

I think I’m going to die from sexual frustration. I wonder if anyone has actually died from being too horny? I should Google it.

I smirk and pull a sheet of fresh cookies out of the oven.

It’s been two days since Rhys gave me the best orgasm of my life.

Like, of my freaking life.

And I figured for sure that he’d be in my bed Monday night to seal the deal.

And he was in my bed. But all he did was hold me all night. Oh, there was kissing and heavy petting, and it was very, very nice to be held and shown affection.

But there was no sex.

And then yesterday went to hell in a handbasket.

If it could go wrong, it did. The newly repaired dishwasher leaked water all over my kitchen. Two sets of guests showed up on the same day, but one of them was supposed to come on Tuesday of next week. They messed up the dates, but that meant that I had to call around and find them a bed for the night because I’m booked solid.

Because I’m stubborn and refuse to put anyone in Rhys’s room.

And lost business for next week.

Then, at the evening wine time, a guest ate a cookie that had coconut in it and had a violent allergic reaction, needing a call to 911, and a trip to the hospital because he forgot to bring his EpiPen with him, not to mention he forgot to inform me of any special dietary needs.

So by the time I fell into bed with Rhys last night, I was so exhausted that I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, and had to get up before him this morning.

“I’m never getting laid again,” I grumble to myself and push a fresh pan of cookies into the oven.

“We’re here to make sure that isn’t true.”

I whirl to find Van, Charly and Kate grinning from ear to ear, standing just inside my kitchen.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to hear you bitch about coconut and not getting laid.”

I nod. “That about covers it.”

“Well,” Charly says with a smile and lifts a bag from her shop. “We are here to make sure that sad travesty doesn’t happen.”