Page 27 of Bossy Romance

Rowan glances up, sees me and brightens. Then he sees Adam and the smile immediately falls flat.

Adam grunts. “He always stares at me like I’m enemy number one.”

“Maybe if you smiled at him more, he’d smile back,” I mutter.

Adam huffs.

I stalk ahead of him. Leaning decisively over the sofa, I snag the remote and take off the television.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Rowan throws his hands up in betrayal.

“You’ve had breakfast and you’ve had time for the food to go down. You need to start cleaning the kitchen now.”

“Isn’t he rich?” Rowan flings himself into the chair and points at Adam. “Doesn’t he have a maid or something?”

Adam scoffs as if he can’t believe how immature Rowan is. I don’t know what he expects. That an eleven-year-old who just got shoved into a strange man’s house would be perfectly behaved and overflowing with eternal wisdom?

Rowan hears his father’s grunt and narrows his eyes in response.

I get between the two of them, but I maintain eye-contact with Rowan. “Mariana doesn’t clean up after people who don’t know how to clean up for themselves,” I tell him crisply. “Aren’t you embarrassed to let someone see that mess?”

“No,” Rowan says without a care in the world.

I curl my fingers into fists. Enough with the good-cop routine. “Rowan…” I swing around to face Adam. “What’s his last name again?”

“Vaughn,” Adam supplies helpfully.

“Rowan Vaughn, I amnotasking. You need to get into the kitchen and start cleaning up. Now.” I put enough of a black mama bark in my voice to let him know I mean business.

Rowan’s lips push out so far he could knock the TV over, but when he sees pouting isn’t going to change my stance, he climbs out of the couch with the exasperation of a much older teenager.

“Fine.” He throws the word at me as if I—somehow—am the one who’s being tolerated.

“Wow.” Adam looks impressed.

I fold my arms over my chest. “What are you doing?” Jutting my chin at the kitchen, I command, “Go help him.”

“Why do I have to clean up? I didn’t make the mess. I didn’t even eat the breakfast.”

I give him a scolding look.

Adam throws his hands up. “Fine.”

I laugh when his back is turned and add his belligerence as one more point for him and Rowan being related.

How are they so similar when they’ve never met before?

I notice Rowan’s frown deepen when Adam joins him in the kitchen. The two work on opposite ends of the room. While Adam expertly wipes down the counter, Rowan is sweeping the flour back and forth on the floor.

I snap my ponytail holder from my wrist and try to put my braids up when I realize I don’t have braids anymore. Awkwardly hefting my curls off my neck, I approach the two reluctant boys in the kitchen.

“Rowan, what kind of music do you like?”

“I dunno.” He stabs the broom on the floor and keeps his head down.

“I like to work with music on. I’ll turn on the speakers if you don’t mind.”

He lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

---