Page 119 of Driven Daddy

The man who actually wanted to be with me.

I held my hand out to him, and he linked his fingers with mine.

I glanced over my shoulder toward the shed. “Is that a flamingo stuck in the ground?”

“Yep.”

“For me?”

He shrugged. “Yep.”

I dragged him in closer. “No one has ever given me a flamingo. Especially one that looks like it has a hat on it.”

I couldn’t see all the details in the dark.

“Witch’s hat.”

“Even better.” I went on my toes, the serious part of me dissolved away the humor. “Do you think we’re more than just a pair of authors stuck together for a workshop?”

“Duchess, I knew we were more the first time I saw you through Every Line’s shop window.”

“Stop.”

“For real. I’m not the guy who believes in love at first sight.”

I dragged in a sharp breath.

“I’m still not,” he said with a grin. “But you struck me like lightning, and I can’t discount that the Universe or a higher power maybe put us in each other’s path. Guess it’s up to us to see what we do with that.” His smile widened. “And maybe that I’ll learn not to shove my size twelve in my mouth.”

“You do seem to like the taste of those boots of yours.”

He laughed. “I like the taste of you way more.”

I linked my fingers around his neck. “Is that right?”

“It sure is.” He lowered his mouth to mine and we kissed for a long while in the dim lights of the cottage patio with a little extra brightness over the hill where Halloween was having a very big moment.

And when I brought him inside, instead of climbing the stairs, I pulled him over to the couch. I’d rearranged the room with Colette to put the television back on the stand and thanks to the lovely streaming services, I had in my collection I found a copy ofScream.

“Now sit down and you will see why I’m right about the best horror movie of our time.”

He laughed and tugged me down. “Whatever you say, Duchess.”

I didn’t even get mad when he curled onto his side, put his head in my lap, and fell asleep halfway through.

It had been a long day for all of us.

And this was just about the most perfect way to end it.

I sunk my fingers into his thick hair and watched Sidney and Gale kick butt.

TWENTY-ONE

I was gettinga serious education about romance authors and how fucking hard they worked.

The cottage had become writing central between the two of us. Rita sprawled out everywhere around the living room. She went from writing in her cozy corner of the sectional, to the floor, to the kitchen table, to the patio outside.

Hell, I even found her on her yoga mat in the downward dog position with her laptop in front of her.

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