Page 14 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

"Bring the team," I say quickly, trying to keep it professional.

He shakes his head. "Just us. You and me. We're the ones who made this happen."

And he's right. We've been working our asses off, tag-teaming council members, community leaders, even the skeptical neighborhood association. We make a good team, falling into a rhythm that feels both new and achingly familiar.

So I agree to dinner, and after two glasses of wine and Jeremy telling stories about these past few years that make me laugh until my sides hurt, I hear myself say, "My family is having a barbecue on Sunday. Nothing fancy. Just a get-together. You should come."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. It's too much, too soon. Too intimate.

Jeremy's surprise quickly transforms into something warm and pleased. "I'd love to. What time?"

And just like that, I've invited Jeremy Ford into my personal life.

* * *

Sunday arrives with perfect early summer weather and my nerves are stretched to the breaking point. I've changed outfits three times, settling finally on white capris and a turquoise top that Sydney once said brings out my eyes.

You look like you're trying too hard,I scold my reflection.It's just a barbecue.

But it's not just a barbecue. It's Jeremy meeting and getting reacquainted with my family. It’s not a small family gathering either. Not this month. It’s my opinionated sister, my nosy cousins, my daughter who's already half in love with the idea of him. It's crossing a line I've been carefully avoiding for weeks.

The doorbell rings at precisely two o'clock. Of course he's exactly on time.

I open the door to find Jeremy looking casually perfect in dark jeans and a light blue button-down, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. He's holding a bouquet of orchids, not white roses this time, but vibrant purple orchids. My favorite. Always have been.

"You remembered," I say before I can stop myself.

His smile is gentle. "I remember everything about you, kitten."

The nickname slips out so naturally now, a private endearment rather than a provocation. I should correct him. I don't.

"Come in," I say instead, taking the flowers. "Everyone's out back."

"Everyone? How many people are we talking about?"

"Just my sister Carol, who you should remember. Her husband, my cousin Mike and his wife, and Sydney, my daughter."

Jeremy pauses. "I didn't know you had a daughter."

Right.

Because we never talk about our personal lives. Because we're keeping this professional. Because I made it clear to my social media manager that my family stays off of my pages. We’ve kept this professional. Except I've just invited him to a family barbecue, so clearly that ship has sailed.

"Sydney is twenty-three," I explain. "She works in graphic design downtown."

"Twenty-three," he repeats, doing the math. "So you had her after..."

After us. After he left. After I picked up the pieces and built a life he wasn't part of.

"Yes," I say simply.

"Her father?" His tone is carefully neutral.

"Not in the picture. We’ve been divorced for longer than we were married. He’s not a part of my life." The understatement of the century. He had been a rebound, a distraction after Jeremy left. "It's been just Sydney and me since she was two. Her father is in her life, but not mine. We’re respectful towards each other but as she’s grown older, we’ve had less reason to talk."

Jeremy nods, processing this. "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

When we step into the backyard, all conversation stops. My family isn't subtle. Carol's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and Sydney practically bounces with excitement.

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