Page 37 of The Prince Who Loved Me

“You’ll want more details,” Eulalee stated. “Go make an appointment with the accountant. We usually only see her around tax time, but she can explain things better.”

Probably using big words with multiple syllables that Brandi would find hard to understand. “Okay. I’ll do that.”

Maybe separating Belle’s was a stupid idea. But she’d follow through and call the accountant in the morning. For now, she trudged upstairs and onto the small cot in her room. Sleep came easily, and she dreamed of Sebastien. Smiling at her. Kissing her. Stripping her naked and doing wonderful things to her.

She woke up hot and restless, but thankfully alone in her room. After a quick shower, she used the secret passage in the kitchen to take the shortcut to the distillery. Once she was hidden among the trees, she gulped in the outside air. Even though it was still March, the air was getting thicker with humidity. Another couple of months the peaches would be ripe and the process of picking and preparing would begin again.

She unlocked her office and turned on her computer, ready to face the number of resumes applying for Gerald’s position after she called the accountant. She’d talked to the woman already after inheriting Belle’s, since alcohol was its own special brand of tax hell. Eulalee, Brandi, and Gerald had been working on it since January.

“Antolak and Associates.”

“This is Brandi from Belle’s Medicinal Brewery.”

“Brandi! It’s Marie Antolak. This is fortuitous. I was going to call you soon. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I know we’ve been working on the taxes part of Belle’s and Fountenoy Hall, but I was wondering if you could help me understand how they work together.”

“Sure thing. Is this something we can do over the phone?”

“I better come by.” Maybe Marie could draw her some pictures with stick figures and arrows to help her figure it out.

“I have an opening early next week.”

“I’ll take it.” Brandi made a note in her phone. Look at her, being all calendar oriented. “Why were you going to call me?”

“I need you to double check the number of bottles Belle’s produced last year against the number sold or given away. You didn’t do anything wrong; it’s just a precaution.”

Crumbs, even the accountant left her with self-doubts. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great. You can give me the numbers when we meet.”

Brandi hung up the phone, her stomach in turmoil. She should call Marie back and tell her to forget it. She reached for the handle, but curled her fingers and pulled her hand away.

Maybe she’d wait until after the meeting to decide what to do. What she really wanted was to talk to it over with Sebastien.

Damn that kiss. Before yesterday, seeking him out would have been second nature. Now she was second guessing.

“Stop it,” she muttered. “Nothing’s changed.”

Except she had a date to prepare for. She hopped in her car and drove the short distance home. Jackson had said dress comfortably and gave her an address for an art studio.

Wendy and Rob were at the registration desk checking in a newlywed couple from Wyoming. The bride had southern roots, but the groom hadn’t traveled much outside of the west.

“I’m looking forward to the Pansy Hamilton museum,” the bride said. “Aren’t you, Riley?”

“Whatever you want to do.” The man grinned back, his hazel eyes revealing how smitten he was. “As long as we stay away from your mother.”

The woman gave him a quick whap in the stomach as he grinned at her.

“I credit Pansy with putting us together.” Rob put his arm around Wendy.

“Well, then we definitely have to go.” The woman took Riley’s hand. “The grounds are so pretty, too, with everything starting to bloom.”

“You’re welcome to explore on your own or schedule a walking tour if you like. Just ask.” Wendy handed them their room keys. “Your room is on the second floor left of the staircase. Do you need help with your luggage?”

“Please.”

Rob scooted around and grabbed a hold of one suitcase while Riley and his bride carried the other two up the grandstaircase.