One Foolish Night (Eternal Bachelors Club #4)

“Are you sure?”


Holly placed the bottle back where she’d found it and opened the bathroom door, forcing a smile. “Probably just something I ate last night. The food your mother’s cook made was very rich. I’m not used to that,” she lied.

“I should have offered you a brandy after dinner. It helps with digesting all that fat in the food,” Paul suggested, and brushed his hand over her head.

He was wearing his boxer briefs and his shirt, while Holly had wrapped a blanket around herself. “We’d better get dressed,” she deflected. “I’m sure they’re wondering why we’re not there for breakfast yet.”

Paul chuckled. “I must admit, I’m a tad hungry after last night’s . . . pleasurable activities.”

The thought of food made Holly’s stomach feel queasy once more, but there was nothing left in it to throw up, so she tried not to think of it and reached for her clothes. They got dressed in companionable silence, and moments later, left the pool house.

Instead of having a few moments to brace herself for the next encounter with Paul’s mother, Holly was confronted with her instantly. The entire Gilbert family—plus Tara—sat on the terrace, enjoying their breakfast. Everybody turned to look at her and Paul when they approached, surprise etched on their faces in various degrees when they realized where they’d emerged from.

“You slept in the pool house?” Paul’s mother asked, tossing a disapproving look in her son’s direction.

Paul’s hand holding hers tightened as he guided her up the stairs to the terrace. “Morning, everybody.” He motioned for Holly to sit in the chair next to Tara’s, while several good mornings came in response.

Holly noticed that the only other empty chair was next to Paul’s father, so she and Paul would have to sit as far away from each other as possible. Was this his mother’s way of trying to split them up? She would have to do better than that.

“Coffee, Holly?” Paul asked.

Though she knew she couldn’t drink it right now, she nodded.

“Sit down, Paul! Consuela will serve the coffee,” his mother commanded.

Holly fiddled with her napkin. When she looked up, she stared right at Mirabelle, who gave her a concerned look.

“You look awfully pale, Holly. Are you feeling all right?” Mirabelle asked.

“I’m f—”

“Holly isn’t used to the rich food Consuela cooked last night,” Paul interrupted.

Holly wanted to groan. There was no need for his family to know that she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The cook, whom Holly had briefly seen the night before, appeared on the terrace, wearing a uniform and carrying a Thermos. “More coffee?” she asked politely.

“Thank you, Consuela,” Paul said. “One for Holly and one for me.”

When Consuela poured the coffee into Holly’s cup and its smell rose to her nostrils, Holly instinctively gripped her stomach. She turned her head, which only sent a whiff of pastries her way and made things worse.

Holly rose from her chair. “I’m sorry, I’m actually not hungry.”

When she turned, she caught a concerned look from Mirabelle, then her gaze collided with Paul’s. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked. “I’ll come with you.”

She waved him off. “No, no. It’s fine. Why don’t you enjoy your breakfast? I’ll be down in a little while.”

When she reached the inside of the house, Holly sighed. Maybe lying down would help curb her nausea.



Paul watched Holly walk inside before turning back and sitting down at the table.

“Well, who’s ever heard of somebody not liking Consuela’s food?” his mother said loud enough for Consuela, who was just about to follow Holly back into the house, to hear.

“I didn’t say Holly didn’t like her food. I said it caused her an upset stomach,” Paul corrected his mother with a tight jaw. He hadn’t expected he’d have to fight with his mother over breakfast. Normally she didn’t start spewing venom until lunch.

He turned to Consuela, who was still hovering at the French doors. “Dinner was fabulous, Consuela. Both Holly and I loved it. Holly said she would love the recipe, if it’s not too much trouble.” Paul wouldn’t allow his mother to turn the staff against Holly.

“Of course, I’ll get it for her.” A smile spread on the cook’s face.

“Thank you!” Paul turned back and took a sip from his coffee.

“Did you have a nice walk last night?” Mirabelle asked, smiling at him from across the table.

He winked at her. “Very nice.”

“I’m sure Tara would love to go for a walk along the beach too,” his mother suggested. “It’s such a great day.”

“Nora,” his father interjected. “We’re only just having breakfast. Let’s not plan out the whole day yet.”