The Princess and the Pizza Man (Destined for Love: Mansions)

  “It is…” he argued—of course. “Attraction to the body, the mind, the soul.” His eyes flicked up. “Pretty sure it’s all about attraction. And you’re pretty much the entire package, if ya don’t mind me sayin’.”

  She didn’t mind, but she didn’t like the fact he was only saying it in a platonic fashion. They might be complete opposites in lifestyles, but personalities? She was certainly no Miss Penelope.

  “It’s really not that hard to believe,” she said. “The men who’ve shown interest are either way obvious about the money, or they are an actor wanting an in, or we just never clicked because I am me. I’d probably have better luck somewhere no one knows who I am.”

  He nodded, spooning the freshly made sauce onto the pizza. “I get that. My family is well-known, too. Not for our money, but for our noise.”

  She giggled, letting the feeling spread throughout her. So, nothing romantic would happen between them, but a friend is just as good. Just as needed. And he was going home in a couple days anyway.

  “I believe it.” She gave him a teasing grin. “And you sure had an introduction that first night.”

  “Just chalk that up as a compliment to the acting in this place.”

  “I expect a ten-star Yelp review.”

  He smiled, gesturing for the cheese which she nudged over with her elbow since her hands were all chocolately.

  “So yeah, my family is known as the loud ones back home.” He sprinkled the cheese with flair. “Maybe too much to handle.”

  “I don’t think so.” She put the chocolate chips down. “You are both fun. And everyone likes that.”

  “You’ve known us a few days.” He gave her a look. “And I’ve only been fun for one of them.”

  She wiped her hands off and picked up the pepperoni, choosing to ignore that comment. Honestly, he’d been fun the whole time, even when he was a complete grump. “Can I do the toppings?”

  He nodded, chewing on his own slice of pepperoni. She was glad to see him picking from the food, too, and not giving her crap for filling up before they ate.

  There was a spark in his eye when she hopped off the counter, and she didn’t know how it happened. She’d been walking in heels like these for years, but her ankle rolled, and the pepperoni went flying. She thought for sure she’d hit the floor with a clang, but a strong and able arm caught her around the waist, his hand on her hip, and a shocked and timid laugh floated to her ears.

  Will looked down at her, his face as close as it had been on their first meeting, his breath smelling of pepperoni and spices, his shoulders tense and muscular under her fingertips. She felt her shock pull on her mouth, amusement somewhere in her, but it was smothered by the static between their bodies.

  She liked it here. And for a second, it looked like he felt the same.

  He shook his head, letting a slow smile appear on his face. “Next time, maybe wear some sensible kitchen shoes.”

  She laughed. “Fat chance.”

  His smile lines deepened underneath his scruff. There was definitely something here; she wasn’t imagining it, and by the way his eyes floated to her lips, maybe she had a chance to be the girl he would be thinking about in his spare time.

  “How old are you?” she blurted.

  His eyes widened, and he slowly steadied her on her feet. “Thirty-one.”

  She tilted her head from side to side. “I can work with that.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t elaborate. That last little thought was just for her.

  A grandfather clock in the living space dinged low and loud, striking at the hour—a half hour past when Bells promised she’d be there.

  Winter blew out a sigh, longingly looking at the pizza on the edge of the still-warm oven. After fifteen minutes, Will had set it there so it wouldn’t get cold. An irritating itch ran over his skin, and he hmphed as well. If Bells made it so his dinner wasn’t up to his standards, he was gonna have more than a few words with her. Impressing Winter had suddenly become his top priority for this evening. After sticking his foot so far down his throat with mentioning Penelope, he was eager to put a genuine smile back on her face.

  “Bells is always late to everything,” he said light-heartedly, but both Winter and his hunger were getting the best of them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it near his face. “You mind?”

  “Please,” she said, slumping onto the table. “The smell is going to kill me if I don’t get to taste it soon.”

  He chuckled and slid his finger around his screen. Where are you? he texted. Then he set the phone on the beautiful reclaimed wood table they were sitting at.

  They both sat in hungry silence, waiting for his phone to buzz. A few times Will had thought it was vibrating against the table, but the sound was only his stomach rumbling.

  “They better be making out somewhere,” Winter said, not a pinch of humor in her voice. If Will wasn’t so hungry himself, he’d appreciate how passionate she was about food.

  He picked his phone up again and tapped Bells’ name. It rang three times into his ear before she answered.

  “H-hey. Sorry. Just eat without me.”

  His brows shot up, and he slowly rose from his seat. “Y’all okay?”

  “I… Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You sure don’t sound like it.”

  There was a pause, and Will’s eyes met Winter’s, her brow pulled tightly together, making that cute wrinkle pop above her nose. She mouthed, “Everything okay?” And Will lifted his shoulders and a finger.

  “You in the room?” he asked. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “No,” Bells blurted. “I’m fine, ya hear? Just eat your dinner. I’ll talk to you in the mornin’.”

  She hung up before he could argue, and Will brought the phone down and stared at the screen. If he was a selfish person, he’d definitely ignore the slight rise in Bells’ voice, the breathiness like she’d been cryin’, and sit on down and enjoy a meal with the woman he was growing attached to. But he reminded himself that he wasn’t there to get shot with Cupid; he was there for Bells.

  “Hey, I think I’d better—”

  “Of course, yeah…” Winter pushed up from her seat and started gathering the breadsticks and marinara. “Let me pack this up so you can have it in your room.”

  “You don’t gotta do—”

  “Shh… yes I do.” She scurried through the kitchen, trying and failing to find anything to pack up the food. Will’s mouth twitched, and he went over to help.

  “Sorry ‘bout this,” he said as he wrapped up a couple slices in aluminum.

  “Is she okay? Was it Garreth?” Her eyes got serious, and she slammed a fist into her palm. “Do I need to have a talk with him?”

  A gut-filled laugh spilled from his lips. “Not sure yet, but I’ll let ya know.”

  She filled his arms up with food and rushed him to the door. His brain left momentarily when she set a hand on his upper back and pushed.

  “You just wanna eat, don’t you?” he said through a laugh. “Soon as I’m gone you’re attacking the other half of that.” He nodded to the pizza sitting on the counter.

  “That’s only part of why I’m rushing you out,” she said, her smile wide and beautiful. “But you bet your butt I’m more worried about Bells.”

  Warmth spread through him at the fact that she’d called his sister by her preferred name. It felt personal, like she truly cared about this stranger.

  He turned on the spot, wanting to give her a hug, thank her for a night that had felt like home, but with his hands full, he just ended up staring awkwardly.

  She laughed and squeezed herself up against his side instead. “Goodnight, Will.”

  “’Night, Princess,” he teased.

  “I think I like the other nickname better.”

  He raised an eyebrow. Had he called her something else? He honestly couldn’t remember, and that made his heart beat double time. Maybe he’d felt more at home than even he’d originally thoug
ht.

  Will lay on the plush couch in his and Bells’ suite, staring up at the ceiling. He’d no idea what time it was; it was late. The pizza he’d made for everyone tonight sat on the counter in the small suite’s kitchen, probably questionable to eat. He’d sent a few more texts when he didn’t find Bells in the room, but she hadn’t responded at all. Sleep wasn’t comin’ easy either, and it wasn’t entirely because of his sister.

  There was this feeling he couldn’t ignore, one he never thought he’d feel in the middle of the frosty north.

  He called it “Sunday mornin’,” something his momma would say a lot. That feeling of knowing you got a whole day off in front o’ ya, but being unable to enjoy it because you got work—or at the time, school—the following morning.

  He’d be packing up to leave on early Saturday to make the long trip back home. The second he’d gotten to Frostville he’d been counting down the days with a sense of excitement. Now the thought of leaving in less than forty-eight hours had his mouth turning down in the corners.

  He tilted his head at the dark ceiling, the shadows creating the shape of an arrow piercing a heart. He was losing his dang mind.

  The sound of the doorknob cut through the room, and he sat up, crossing his arms and putting on his protective brother look. Bells slid inside, holding the doorknob as she closed the door.

  “Hey,” he said, and she jumped back into the door, holding a hand up to her chest.

  “Gosh, don’t do that.”

  He strode over, flicking on the light. Bells’ red, puffy eyes had his anger melting right into concern. “What happened tonight, Bells?”

  She tried to smile, but it was incredibly strained. “I think I wanna go home.”

  He jolted back. “What?”

  Her back straightened, determination setting in her jaw. “Yes. I think it’s time to go home.” She pushed past him and went right to her room. When Will shook free from his shock, he followed. She was already halfway through stuffing her first suitcase.

  “Wait… Bells…”

  “If you want, I’ll say it, William. I’ll say it, even though it’ll kill me.” She shook a pair of stockings at him before tossing them in next to a red skirt. “You were right. This place is a joke. And I’m a silly woman who actually thought that Eros or Cupid or whatever his name is was gonna shoot me in the butt and change my life.”

  “Weren’t things going well with Garreth?”

  She threw him a look like he deserved a dunce cap, staying silent as she chucked another item of clothing in the suitcase.

  “It don’t matter, anyhow. You wanted to leave, and now I’m sayin’ let’s go. So let’s go.”

  He rubbed his chest, his thoughts a maze of reasons to stay. All he had to do was land on one. “Don’t ya want to see who the murderer is?”

  She snorted, bending over to start on her second suitcase.

  “What about the ball? There’s a ball or somethin’, right? You wanna go to that, I know ya do.”

  “Not anymore.” A shoe went flying across the room, landing sloppily on the bed. “That’ll just make things even messier.”

  His head tilted, but he knew she wouldn’t elaborate, so he kept going. “But didn’t you promise Winter you’d do her hair?”

  She paused, hand poised in the air as she held a heel like a weapon. Her eyes were big and lost, like she couldn’t excuse her way out of that one. Bingo.

  “She’s been excited,” he continued. “And it’d be good for you, yeah? Maybe she could recommend you to some of those famous people you want to style for.”

  Bells breathing slowed, a watery wall coming up in her eyes. Panic gripped Will’s stomach, holding on for all it was worth. What was he thinkin’? He wanted to go home. He loved Alabama, couldn’t wait to sit in the sun and toss pizzas for a crowd and sleep in his own bed. Over and over again he’d told himself he was only in Frostville for Bells, and now she wanted to go. It was his out.

  But that Sunday morning feeling wrapped around him like a blanket, and he desperately wanted Bells to give him these last couple days.

  “Yeah,” she said after a minute. “I did promise her…”

  “Maybe sleep on it,” he suggested. “You may change your mind after you’ve slept.”

  “I won’t.” She slumped onto the bed, her suitcases jostling with the movement. She buried her face into her palms.

  Will tentatively took a step toward her. “What happened?”

  She just shook her head hard, keeping her face hidden. He let out a sigh and plopped down next to her. His arm found her shoulder, and he pulled her in, tucking her head under his chin.

  “A’right,” he said, admitting defeat. If she didn’t wanna tell him, he wasn’t gonna force her. But he sure was gonna give her a shoulder to cry on.

  After a few minutes, she lifted her head. “I’ll stay.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “I promised. But I want to leave first thing on Saturday.”

  “You got it.”

  A victorious flag waved in his chest, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Had he convinced her to stay for her? Or had he just done it for him?

  As soon as Winter had seen Will sisterless at breakfast, she pounced on him for information. He’d only tell her that Bells wasn’t feeling up to socializing. Something had definitely gone down the night before, but she hadn’t known what, and Winter was determined to find Bells a new beau before they left on Saturday.

  She had two full days; difficult, but not impossible. She revisited a few of her previous choices, but both Dave and Eric seemed to be taken with someone else. There had to be someone available still.

  After a full day of spying and coming up with no viable candidates, she slunked into one of the chairs in the lounge, watching guests flirt and tease and enjoy themselves, but feeling absolutely no sense of pride in it this time around.

  She’d failed. She’d failed when it had probably been the most crucial match of her life. Pain sliced through her gut, and she clutched at it, wishing she could rewind the week and point Maybelle in any direction other than Garreth.

  Her eyes lifted to the man holding a drink in the corner, once the most popular person in the room and now very lonely. Garreth took a swig of the dark liquid in his scotch glass, licking his lips when he’d finished. What had happened between the two of them? Winter couldn’t even ask; she’d failed so epically that she didn’t know Garreth well enough to broach the subject.

  She’d let the boy from Alabama distract her all week, and the worst part was, she wished he would keep doing so.

  The final day of the mystery had always flown by, but this time around, time was working at the speed of light. Winter started the day with Mel and the actors—Michael again seeming incredibly off—then went to breakfast, then an interrogation scene that was always fun, considering that the murderer was different every performance, and then lunch, preparing the ballroom for the evening, and now she was in her dressing room, Bells standing behind her with pins pressed between her lips.

  “Dis hair, Vinter,” she said through the bobby pins. “It’s so fick.”

  Winter giggled. “What?”

  She grabbed a handful from the side where she was working. “Fick! I vet you go froo so much conditioner.”

  “Oh, thick.” Winter laughed again and nodded. “Yes, it takes me forever to blow dry. Sometimes I just say, no thanks and braid it.”

  Bells slipped one of the pins from her mouth and pinned down a stubborn curl that’d kept falling into Winter’s line of vision. She’d draped a dress over the mirror, telling Winter that she didn’t want her to see until she was done. It was killing Winter not to take one little peek; Bells had been spraying and brushing and curling and straightening for an hour now.

  Winter had kept the conversation light—her hair history or Bells’ past styling experiences—-even though she was dying to ask her about Garreth.

  “Almost done,” Bells said after the last pin left her
mouth, and Winter wiggled in her seat, sharp needles of pain shooting through her rear end as she tried to wake it back up. “I know it’s a long time to sit still.”

  “Something I’m definitely not known for.”

  She could feel Bells laugh, but didn’t hear it, which made Winter frown. The past two days the mansion had missed the boisterous voice of the Monroes. Whenever Maybelle had made an appearance, it was silently polite. She’d smiled and made conversation with anyone who approached her, but she hadn’t waved her hands while talking, hadn’t been so loud others could hear exactly what she was talking about.

  And Will had been stuck in his own head, it seemed, his eyes lingering on Winter, but his voice staying solidly behind his lips.

  Winter took a deep breath, knowing she was almost out of time to say something. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rotten time here,” she said to her hands in her lap. Bells’ fingers paused in her hair.

  “Who… I mean, what made you think that?” There was a lightness to her accent, and Winter turned to meet her eyes.

  “I know a sad face when I see one.”

  Her brows rose, and she tried to shake it off with a smile. “I was just sick yesterday,” she said with a wave, then gently coaxed Winter to look forward again. “Must’ve been all the excitement.”

  “Oh…” Winter said, trying not to pry but wanting more than that fib. “Will seemed to think you were ready to leave.”

  “Will needs to mind his own.” Her hands were a bit rougher in Winter’s hair, and she pressed her lips together. The urge to probe some more was almost too overwhelming, but Winter could handle it. Often when people snapped like Bells’ had just now, Winter would bite back or lighten things up. She hardly ever kept quiet.

  After a few torturous seconds, Bells sighed and rested her hands on Winter’s shoulders. “Geez, I’m sorry. Promise I’m a bright and sunny person on normal days.”

  “I know.” Winter grinned. “That’s why I know something’s wrong.”

  “You sure it wasn’t Will and his big mouth?”

  “He didn’t say anything. It’s been painfully irritating.”