“The last part. I’m not exactly sure what anyone expected for the earl’s heir.”
Phillip laughed and made his way to the door that led out to the little foyer room at the front of the house. “Where would the fun in that be if life always happened the way one thought it would?”
But that’s exactly what Nick had spent his entire adult life doing—making sure with each of his inventions that things happened the way they should. Predictability. Ease of use. No surprises. That’s what he liked. That’s why he’d picked the lake house out in the middle of Virginia where life rolled along the country road undisturbed right up until that first letter from Lady Lemons had arrived and changed everything—but only for six months a year. At least that’s what he was telling himself despite the little voice in the back of his head telling him to guess again.
…
Cadbury cured everything. Well, almost everything. As Brooke sat on her bed and popped another Dinky Deckers into her mouth, letting the milk chocolate melt on her tongue and leaving the crispy cereal and soft nougat, she searched her brain for a solution the earl would accept to the financial enemy marching its army up to Dallinger Park’s door. The situation was worse than she’d realized.
At the earl’s behest, she’d spent the past three days creating spreadsheets of assets—from paintings to books to the wine in the cellar—and researching what similar items had sold for at recent auctions. If the old earl was willing to part with family heirlooms as so many other of the landed gentry had been forced to do to pay for the upkeep of their legacies, then things were dire indeed. And blast it all, she had exactly zero ideas for how to help in the quick time frame that was obviously needed.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her head to fall back against the headboard with a thunk and let out a frustrated and long groan.
“You okay there, Lemons?” Nick’s voice carried through the closed door.
Double shit.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling up the duvet over her sleeping tank and shorts, as if he could see her through the door, because God knew she was picturing him right now.
“Then maybe you can explain something for me.”
Abandoning her chocolate on the bedside table, she scooted down her bed so she sat with her back propped against one of the bedposts, taking the duvet with her. “What’s that?”
“Why are there naked people on a regular basic cable channel?”
Of all the things that Nick could have asked about, that was pretty much the last one she’d expected. Scratch that. She never would have thought up that one, full stop. “What are you talking about?”
“This dating show,” he said, his voice low and rumbly, as he was obviously trying to work out what was happening on his telly. “There are three cocks on my screen and they’re not pixelated out.”
Brooke giggled and fought against the temptation of sneaking over to her door to see the shocked expression on his puritan American face. “Why would they be?”
“Did you hear me say they were cocks, as in penises not roosters?” he asked. “And this woman is telling everyone what she thinks about the cocks. She actually said one was too big and another was on the pencil-looking side. Is this what women think about dicks?”
Oh, the poor man. His mind had been blown by Naked Attraction. “Why so uptight?”
“Really, Lady Lemons?” he asked with a chuckle. “You’re calling me uptight?”
Okay, that one hit close to the cottage. “Nudity isn’t such a big deal here.”
“This country is so flippin’ weird.”
Wait. What? No. That wasn’t going unchallenged. “Uh-huh, this coming from a man who lives in a country where there are drive-through liquor stores.”
“Very handy when you’re on your way to tailgate.”
She’d had to look that up once after a reference in a Buzzfeed article. The whole idea of standing around in a parking lot before a university American football game was odd, to put it lightly. “That’s also bizarre.”
“Says the woman who lives in a country where there’re un-pixilated cocks on regular TV.”
She laughed, some of the anxiety seeping out of her knotted muscles at the banter. “There’ll be tits soon, too.”
Something plastic—the remote?—clunked when it hit the floor. “What?”
“The person picking their date ends up naked, too.” She was sure there was a better way to describe the reality dating show, but her brain wasn’t coming up with one at the moment.
“On national TV,” he said, his voice sounding closer to the door.
She nodded, as if he could see her. “Exactly.”