Page 36

At seven, I decided I'd done enough sitting around waiting for a woman who probably had her entire day scheduled down to the minute.

I grabbed my keys and headed for the golf cart.

I needed a distraction.

Or caffeine.

Or Mikayla.

Preferably all three.

The ranch kitchen was already buzzing when I walked in.

Betty Lawson was attacking biscuit dough like it owed her money, while Tara Fields sliced strawberries with the precision of a surgeon. One earbud was tucked into her ear, which meant she was either listening to true crime or learning how to dispose of a body.

With Tara, it was fifty-fifty.

"Morning, beautiful ladies."

Betty glanced up over her glasses. "Well, if it isn't Lover Boy."

Here we go.

"You're up early." She cut another biscuit. "New girlfriend keep you up all night?"

"Sadly, I went to bed alone."

Tara pulled out her earbud. "Nobody wants to hear about your sex life, Damon."

"Apparently, everybody does."

"We saw that kiss," she said.

"Everybody saw that kiss," Betty added.

"Even George," Tara said. "And that man needs binoculars to find his own feet."

I grinned. "Glad we could provide some entertainment."

"So when do we get to meet her?" Betty demanded.

That question landed somewhere unexpected.

Betty had been making my birthday cakes since I was old enough to smear frosting across my face. Introducing Mikayla to her felt considerably more intimate than kissing her in front of fifty people.

Which made absolutely no sense.

"I’ll see what I can do."

I poured myself a coffee, then made a second exactly how Mikayla liked it.

Betty's eyes narrowed.

I ignored her and grabbed two everything bagels, a packet of plain cream cheese, and a paper bag.

"Oh, Lord." Betty pressed a flour-covered hand to her chest. “I need to write this on the calendar, the day Damon Lockhart brought his girlfriend breakfast in bed.”

I ignored the comment, leaned over, and kissed Betty's head. "Don't burn the biscuits. I'm still recovering from the Great Biscuit Massacre of 2017."