Page 57 of The Rogue and His Flower

“Apologies, I thought you’d be ready,” I say, averting my gaze as I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.

“You said be ready at seven-thirty, it’s only quarter past,” she reminds me.

“My bad,” I reply, not feeling very bad about it at all.

“Then go wait for me downstairs!” she scolds, reaching for the red silk blouse that I’d bought her not too long ago.

“I’m fine right here,” I say as she turns her back to me and pulls on the blouse, hurriedly doing up the buttons before tucking it into the rainbow striped mini-skirt that I happen to like a little bit too much.

“This is not respecting my boundaries,” she reminds me, sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling on a pair of bright green, platform trainers.

I stare at them transfixed, or perhaps it’s her slim ankles and shapely legs dusted in freckles that has caught my attention. I can’t help but wonder if every inch of her skin is covered in them too.

“I’ll work on it,” I offer with a shrug.

“You’re being obnoxious,” she counters, but she doesn’t insist on me leaving and so I take that as an invitation to stay.

“I’ll try to refrain from being obnoxious the rest of the evening.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “So we’re back to talking now, are we?”

“I hadn’t realised we were ignoring each other again. Is this about the kiss at our engagement party?” I reply, enjoying her sass.

Truth be known, I’ve missed it. I’ve been looking forward to tonight all damn week. Not because we’re heading to Bandits Bar to hear Harlow sing, but because I’ll get to spend some time with Daisy. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care to look into it too deeply either.

“You tell me. You’re the one who’s barely said a handful of words to me this past week since the engagement party,” she throws back, snatching up her bright blue, woollen coat. It grazes the tops of her ankles, covering up all that pretty skin.

“My dad has been busting my arse with a lot of work,” I explain. “He’s getting me back for going rogue, and not reading his damn speech.”

“So that’s your excuse?” she asks, lifting a brow, her lips thinning as she glares at me.

“I didn’t realise you missed me that much. You should’ve said something sooner, I would’ve made the time, Daisy,” I reply.

“I didn’t miss you. I just…” She blows out a breath. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t ‘nevermind’me. Tell me what you’re thinking, Daisy.”

Grabbing her bag, she slings it over her shoulder and strides towards me. “Nothing’s on my mind,” she snaps.

I throw my arm out, blocking her path as my fingers wrap around the doorframe. “I’m not going to let you leave until you tell me why you’re so pissed off.”

“Dalton!”

“Daisy…” I insist.

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You said all of those things in front of everyone, then you kissed me,” she accuses, folding her arms across her chest as she glares at me.

“Okay, so was it the kiss or the speech that made you miss me?”

“Neither, because I haven’t missed you.”

“You’re feisty tonight,” I observe, my lips flickering with a smile. “And very argumentative.”

“Well, this is the Daisy you get when you act like you care, kiss me in front of everyone, and then ignore me all week.”

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