So far, Kylian was not impressed with Destiny City. Why Aunt Marjolane had chosen to move here after her dramatic lesbian divorce, he would never know. Surely "getting out of the city" didn't have to mean getting so far out of the city. And yet, this was where she'd chosen, where she'd settled, and where she'd died.

Kylian didn't like thinking about that last part. Aunt Marjolane had been young, his father's only little sister, and yet much like his parents, something had claimed her far before what ought to have been her time. He should have been flying out here to finally accept her invitation to visit the kitschy little bed and breakfast she'd set up, the Starlight Haven Inn, and to banter with her about how silly it was that she was settled here, and not somewhere proper.

Instead, she was gone.

The funeral was already past--well attended, apparently she'd made quite a lot of friends here--the will read, and Kylian couldn't even believe Aunt Marjolane had set up a will, much less that she'd apparently decided that what he needed out of life was a ******** Hallmark movie romance.

Okay, he could believe that. She'd been saying as much for years. She'd loved those ridiculous movies. But to spring it on him like this seemed more than a little ridiculous. and he couldn't even argue with her about it. Because she was gone, and he would never again get to lovingly trash her taste in movies and then flop on the couch and watch them with her.

And yet, from beyond the grave, she'd gotten the last laugh.

She'd left him the damn inn.

And a fortune in cash, since he was her only living relative, except there was a funny little caveat on the whole thing, like this was indeed one of her movies.

Kylian, dear, she'd written, in the letter she left for him, I know you're going to want to sell the place. I know running anything isn't your style. But I think the change of pace will be good for you. So, if you want to see the rest of your inheritance, you'll run the Starlight Haven for a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. If you hate it, you can move on after that. But give it a try, dear. I think you'll find you like ti more than you expect.

So here he was on his twentieth birthday, in Destiny City instead of celebrating with wine and charming men in Manhattan (he'd done that a week before, as he prepared for his move, obviously), walking through the doors of his new home.

It was lovely, he had to admit. A renovated Victorian, painted pastel pink on the outside and with an equally pastel interior. Truth be told, he liked it--and the idea of changing anything up inside really ate away at him. Aunt Laney had picked all of this out, after all.

And maybe he was willing to give her silly little idea a try.

Also, a year not paying rent on a Manhattan apartment would be a blessing, and changing his career to "innkeeper and chef" would certainly leave him plenty of time to paint.

And as he stepped into the kitchen, taking in the pretty red cabinets with pink decorations, he sighed.

This, it seemed, was his new home.