This grumpy billionaire has mistaken my house for a hotel.
But hey, who am I to correct him?
It’s been a slow season. My honey has barely sold, and the bills are piling up. How hard can it be to take care of a guest?
I just need to feed him. Clean his room and keep up the ruse until his fancy car is fixed and he can drive off into the sunset.
My guest is difficult, though. He’s stern, impossible to please, and distractingly handsome. Worst of all, he’s starting to suspect.
A few more days. That’s all I need to last.
A few more days in his good graces—and out of his bed.