Page 27 of Romance with Mr. Bossy Pants

“Now, we’re leaving. I won’t say this again—stay away from Chloe. If you come near her, you’ll end up with a broken nose. Got it?”

The man finally backs off.

I turn to Chloe. "Chloe, let’s go."

We walk back to my car in silence. The image of the man comes to mind, and I shake my head.

He’s ugly…and stinks.

Facing her, I ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replies, timidly.

“It’s none of my business, but…honestly, I thought you would have had better taste than him.”

Her face flushes deep pink, eyes almost popping from their sockets. “You’re going there? For your information, I was catfished.”

“Uh-huh. How did you not pick up on that, exactly?” I raise a brow.

“It was a set up. His pictures, everything.”

I open the passenger door for Chloe and state, “I want to feel sorry for you, but maybe take this as a sign to keep work at work and do your personal things on your own time.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I was at lunch. That is personal.”

I close the door after she gets in and work my way around to the driver’s side. Getting in, I sigh, “You didn’t ask to go to lunch. It sounds like you snuck out. There’s a lot to get done before the convention and I would’ve suggested you grab something to eat at the office instead.”

“Are you serious right now? I texted you.”

I start the engine and make the short drive down the street to the office. “It’s even worse that I had to come and save you.”

“Daniel, that’s enough!” she demands.

My hands clutch the gear shift hard as I park in front of the office building.

Did she really just talk to me like that?

This is new.

“We’re adults here. I have no reason to sneak out of work. I did what I had to for the morning and let you know I was going to lunch. My date is my personal business, and it was on my time. It sure isn’t your place to intrude or gloat. I never asked for your help.”

She remains seated in the car, facing me with a look of defiance etched in her eyes. Or is it annoyance? Anger, maybe? I can’t really tell.

“Well, that’s some way of saying thank you,” I respond. “Do you want to go back to the cafe to see if that man is still there? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.”

She climbs out of the car, her expression unwavering.

I wonder what she’s thinking. We continue trading looks as we enter the office.

“You weren’t expecting me to sit back and watch you get harassed, were you?”

“How did you know I was there, anyway?”

I hold my phone out to her, showing her that we are still on the call. “You pocket dialed me.”

Her eyes widen with embarrassment. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her own device. “Oh.”

“Regardless, I saved you from what appeared to be a bad situation. The least you could do is say thank you.”

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