Sealed with a Hiss by Addison Moore (read 50 shades of grey .txt) 📕

seems far too interested in. She’s donned her requisite cranberry power suit and heels, the wardrobe staples she claims were inspired by my mother. And that frown on Mack’s face seems to be her go-to expression whenever she’s around me.

Hux is basically my look-alike in male skin, black hair and same denim eyes. He’s a family practice attorney, and good thing, too—he already has three divorces under his belt. Considering the money he’s saved on the working end of things, I’d say he went into the right profession.

Mom squints over at my father, and I can’t help but note she’s wearing another one of those wonky quilt dresses, white with red checkered hearts stamped over it. Boy, when she commits to something, she doesn’t quit.

I have a feeling she thinks her livelihood is tied to advertising those dresses. And she might be right. She sank a good portion of her retirement into her business that caters to old broads—her terminology, not mine.

“So what’s the big news?” Mom puts down a briefcase of her own on the counter, supple brown leather, not a scratch in sight, nor the carcass of an opossum. I can see why Georgie would want to emulate her. If Ree Baker is anything, she’s immaculately put together.

Her wonky quilt dress flops off one shoulder, and she grunts as she yanks it back up. But it slides right back where it was, offering us an eyeful of her bosom in the process.

Okay, so she’s mostly immaculately put together. I have a feeling there’s only one other person she’d like to shove in one of those dresses and it’s Georgie—right after she strangles her and has her fitted for a casket.

“All right.” Hux holds up his arms and offers one of his charming smiles. “You asked for it, I’ll deliver.”

“I’m the one with the news,” Dad says with a wink.

Mack shakes her head. “I can guarantee we’ve got bigger news. You should probably go first.”

Gwyn scoffs. “I can guarantee our news is bigger. Please, go first. We insist.”

My father nods. “What she said.”

Mom averts her eyes. “Oh please, somebody go before I have to go. That shop I own isn’t going to run itself. Especially when both old broads are here watching the four of you argue over who has the bigger news. Now please, somebody spill the beans.”

Georgie narrows her eyes at my mother. “Who are you calling old?”

“Oh, would you hush.” Mom laughs. “Come on now. I’ve got a power breakfast to get through with this one.” She motions to Georgie. “Somebody spout something off.”

“Fine,” Hux says.

“Fine,” Dad snaps back.

“We’re getting married,” Dad and Hux blurt out at the very same time right before they exchange slack-jawed expressions. “On Valentine’s Day,” they blurt out in unison once again, and the rest of us hold our breath as if waiting for the punch line.

Mom tosses up her hands. “Oh for Pete’s sake.”

“Wait a minute,” I say as I look to the four people in the vicinity intent on making a matrimonial bundle. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Hux says.

Dad shrugs. “At my age, you don’t say things like that. But yes, we’re serious. Gwyneth and I aren’t getting any younger, and we’ve waited a year just to please all of you. We’re getting married on Valentine’s Day right here at the inn.”

“At the inn?” My shoulders hike a notch.

Mackenzie elbows my brother. “That’s what we were thinking. The gazebo was decent when you did it, Bizzy. We’ll take that.”

“Oh, actually, I don’t recommend it in February,” I’m quick to tell her. “The weather is too unpredictable. I guess we could hold it in the ballroom but—”

“The ballroom is perfect.” Gwyneth waves me off. “Nathan, let’s get to the jewelers and shore up our rings.” She threads her arm through his. “And there’s the issue of my dress. You can wear what you like, of course, so long as it’s a dark suit with a white tie and patent leather shoes.” She yammers on until they’ve stepped right out of the café.

“You heard her.” Mackenzie nods to my brother. “We need to get busy.” She scowls my way. “I’ll have my florist contact you. I’d like a string quartet and a light pink aisle runner. No doilies or Cupid cutouts. I’m going for a modern traditional feel, no paper poms, no crepe paper, no confetti.” She yanks Huxley right out of the café, and I’m left choking in their wake.

“I’m supposed to be hosting a Valentine’s Day dance in the ballroom that night.”

Mom shakes her head. “Oh, who cares? So they have a few hundred extra guests? It’s not your problem, Bizzy. Not one of them bothered to hear you out. I say they deserve what happens to them.” She looks to Georgie. “And why am I the only one on board when it comes to wearing this contraption you’ve contrived?”

It’s true. Georgie sort of developed the wonky quilt dress all on her own a few months back, and it’s been a big hit ever since—that is, when women aren’t passing out from heat exhaustion.

“First thing’s first”—Mom continues—“we’re instating a dress code. And where is Juni? Shouldn’t she be here for our very first employee meeting? Especially seeing that she’s our only employee?”

Georgie shrugs. “She’s back at her place trying to figure out what to wear when we go out with Bizzy later.”

“Where are we going?” I dare to ask.

Georgie knots her lips up for a moment. “According to you, we’re headed to the hospital. And believe you me, Juni won’t be all that thrilled. She was hoping for somewhere a little more exciting, where the men wear less and the women are waving bills in the air. Personally, I like to chuck quarters at ’em. If you aim just right, those boys will dance like nobody’s business.”

“Why do I get the feeling I’ll get to see this firsthand one day?” I shake my head. “Don’t answer. Today’s adventure consists of a glorified infirmary. If Juni is lucky, there