The Grump's Guide to Chaos (Guided to Love, Book 3)

She’s chaos and sunshine. He’s order and grumpiness. What could possibly go wrong?

When Tori Welch upends her career and comes home for a reset, she’s forced to stay at the local B&B instead of her mom’s house. And that would be fine, except her only regret in life happens to be the innkeeper.

Will Joseph likes order and rules. It’s what’s made him such a good firefighter all these years, and what’s helped make the B&B he runs with his brother thrive. In fact, the only person who ever turned his orderly world upside down left town twenty years ago.

Except now she’s back, staying in his B&B and suggesting they enjoy some no-strings-attached fun. When she agrees to the rules he puts in place to make it happen, he figures he’s safe.

Ha.

I have made a terrible mistake.

Huge.

And while I could, perhaps, be talking about the past twenty years of my life, I am in fact talking about the past ten seconds.

Note to self: do not ever walk unannounced into Mom’s house again.

Plastered against the front door and wanting to bleach my eyes after what I just saw, I try to shake the vision away. No child should be subjected to seeing her mother getting it on with some guy on the couch, no matter how old she is. We’re not talking some casual making out, either. Quite the opposite. I stumbled into a very much not casual, very much clothing-optional situation when I burst through the front door.

And listen, at the ripe age of thirty-seven, I know that people of all ages are sexual beings, and I heartily approve of each person getting theirs. Pleasure knows no bounds and all that. But I could have gone to my grave without seeing that.

I suppress a full-body case of the shivers and get back in my trusty little hatchback, aiming for anywhere that doesn’t feature a couch with wrinkled old man butt on it. But something is off. There aren’t any cars on the road, and the whole place seems desolate, which is not helping me feel great about my decision to surprise my mom with the news that I’ve come home to live with her.

I crack my window to let in some cool air, still a little flushed, and hear the unmistakable sounds of a marching band. Then I realize it’s December 1, which means the Talladega Christmas Parade is in full swing a couple of blocks away. I turn my car in its direction to get as close as I can, wincing at the love tap I give the Jeep in front of me as I parallel park.

After I make sure the Jeep is fine, I make my way to the town square. By the time I arrive, the parade has finished and the square is filled with people full of the holiday spirit. Every available space has been decorated with wreaths and garland, and warm white lights are strung along to give off the perfect amount of cozy light.

Chief Suarez is dressed as Santa, like always, though he’s a little grayer and a little thicker than the last time I saw him. And like always, he beams with pride as he lights the tree in the center of the square. I’m on the edge of the crowd, but I swear I see the man’s eyes twinkle in delight.

My stomach growls, clearly over the scene at my mom’s and finally seeming to realize it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten. Twelve hours? Fourteen? Sometimes I forget because I get busy with other things, and it’s safe to say that today has been full of “things.” From chucking the last of my possessions into storage with my best friend Conner and delivering apartment keys to a more-than-disgruntled building manager, to shoving way more boxes than was probably safe into my hatchback to make the two-hour drive home from Atlanta, I’ve been busy. I find a cute little coffee shop, but when I tug on the door, it’s locked.

“Coffee and hot chocolate are over there,” a voice warbles near me.

I barely manage to keep my expression in check as I take in the older woman to the right of me. She’s wearing a knitted purple beanie with a hot pink pompom waving jauntily on top, her scarf is striped like a candy cane, and she’s nearly engulfed in a pink puffer coat. She’s a technicolor elf of sorts, and I grin. “Good to know, thank you.”

She peers closer, her eyes narrowing behind thick lenses. “Tori?”