I’m already planning on encouraging her to go over there sometimes, so me and Travis can have the house to ourselves. Because as I recently and embarrassingly learned, the walls of my house aren’t particularly thick. It’d be nice to let Travis fuck me so hard I scream the roof off. Or the other way around, I’m not picky.

“Dad,” May whispers, leaning closer to me and abruptly banishing my dirty thoughts. “Riley Rowland is here.” The excitement in her voice is evident, even though she’s keeping it down.

“Don’t stare,” I warn her.

“I’m not, but it’s so cool. She’s so pretty.”

I nod in agreement. I already let May know we had a celebrity staying here so that she wouldn’t freak out about it. Riley grew up in Mayweather, and apparently most of the town just treats the country star like a regular person.

I didn’t live here back then, so I was admittedly pretty starstruck when I first met her. But I was still professional, and I instructed all my staff to be the same way.

May doesn’t even listen to Riley’s music much, but I knew she’d be excited because of the connection to Skyler James. Riley dated Skyler when they were younger. Supposedly, at least. A lot of stuff about Skyler’s dating history is unclear now since he came out.

Though I do know Riley’s been facing backlash because of their very public relationship, which people now believe was only for PR. I’m pretty sure that’s part of the reason she left Nashville and came to rent a room here indefinitely.

Sneaking a peek over at her table, I notice she’s sitting there with only a glass of water. And while I trust Addison and the servers to do their jobs, I figure it couldn’t hurt for me to pop into the kitchen and check that she’s being well taken care of. So I excuse myself from the table.

I don’t expect her to post on social media about the inn—I don’t think she wants the public to know where she is—but I still want to make sure we keep her exceptionally happy.

In the kitchen, everything appears to be going smoothly. Addison is at the counter, cutting up chunks of fruit and tossing them into a blender.

“Hey,” I say. “Do you know Riley’s in the dining room? Someone’s waiting on her, right?”

“Of course,” she snipes at me. “Everyone’s taking care of the famous princess. Don’t worry.”

I frown. “She’s not being demanding, is she? She’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

Addison sighs and goes to the fridge, coming back with two different juice cartons. “No, she’s not. She’s just there. All the time. With her red hair and her flimsy little sundresses.”