Page 11 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

I quickly type ‘On my way’ and hit send.

Daniel’s house sprawls across two stories, with green vines elegantly draping along the beige and burgundy walls, and pots on the porch bursting with colorful flower arrangements. I glance at the address on my phone just to reassure myself that I’m at the right place. Somehow, I half-expected his house to be a stone-walled mansion shut away from sunlight like a vampire’s secret hideout.

Taking a deep breath, I grab the binder containing the revised proposals and step out of the car. The walk up the driveway feels longer than it should.

Reaching the porch, I hesitate for a moment before raising my hand to knock. The sound seems to hang heavy in the quiet evening air. A moment later, the door swings open, revealing a sight that makes me blink in surprise.

Standing before me is a young girl about ten years old. She has a mess of blonde curls cascading down her shoulders and bright, curious eyes that widen even further when she sees me. She’s wearing pink and white pajamas and matching bunny slippers.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi, there,” I reply. “What’s your name?”

“What’s your name?”

It has only been a day, but I’ll recognize that attitude anywhere. She must be Daniel’s.

“I’m Chloe.”

“Michelle.”

“Hi, Michelle.”

She pouts. “Yeah, yeah. You’re here to see Dad, right?”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s not rocket science, you know. You all dress the same.”

“Right, that part. Trust me, kid, if it weren't for strict dress codes, I'd be in a Snuggie and slippers, too.”

She sports a smile. “Dad shouldn’t hear you say that.”

Before I can respond, a voice booms from behind her. “Who’s that, sweetie?”

A tall figure strides into the doorway, and my breath catches in my throat. He places his hand on Michelle’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him. I didn’t think he owned any clothes with color, but here he is, dressed in a sky blue T-shirt and matching sweatpants. His hair is slightly mussed, and there’s a faint dusting of flour on his cheek. He sure doesn’t look as stuffy as he does in the office.

That’s a relief.

“A lady for you,” Michelle says.

“Ms. Summers,” Daniel rumbles. “So, are you done or will I be on the hunt tomorrow morning?”

There you have it. I spoke too soon. I guess it doesn’t matter the setting, he’s grouchy all the time.

Michelle nudges him and he looks down at her, softening his expression.

I hand the binder to him. “Here you go.”

“I see,” he mutters. He glances at the binder, then back at me, his features unreadable. “I guess you’re safe…for now.”

“Are you coming in, Chloe?” Michelle asks. “Dad is making pancakes!”

Suddenly, Daniel’s brows furrow into a scowl, and an awkward laugh escapes him.

Absolutely, not, Chloe. Not even if he was the last man standing.

4

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