Page 147 of One Bossy Disaster

My heart is too full.

I don’t know whether to smile or shrivel up and die of embarrassment.

But how can I even have feelings likethis?

Sure, we’ve had some hot sex and tons of unexpected drama, but I can’t—

No. Not going there.

“I’m mortified. She hasn’t been this crazy for months. I thought I’d trained it out of her, but... clearly, we still have work to do.”

“No hard feelings.” He sneaks her a piece of the strip steak he’s been frying up and my gooey heart puddles in my shoes.

“Now you’ve done it,” I say, finding my voice and rushing forward to pull my dog away. “You’ll spoil her. She’s already a little duchess.”

“Royalty, huh? I guess pets really do take after their owners,” he teases, planting a kiss on the top of my dog’s head and finally setting her down.

Molly circles around the kitchen in glee, still licking her chops.

“Ademandingprincess,” I argue. “Don’t even comment.”

“Certainly. She learned it from the best,” he says, totally ignoring my warning.

I fold my arms, but he just throws back another one of those sly smiles and turns back to the steak. “Have fun snooping around my place or what?”

I gasp. “I wasn’t snooping!”

“Weird. I’d have thought you’d have come right down instead of spending three minutes walking around.”

“...you were counting?”

My face must be white.

Eventually, the longer he stares me down, I crack and start laughing.

“Fine! I had a little look. Couldn’t resist. Nice boat, by the way.” I motion to the ship perched near the small dock and boathouse down the hill, past the floor-to-ceiling window.

“I was hoping you’d notice. It does the trick for getting around when you’re too worn out from kayaking or other activities.”

Is he joking? Straight-up dicking with me?

I squint at his broad, muscular back, too shell-shocked to speak.

I thought he’d be the tense one thanks to this whole situation and the fact that I’m here in his house.

After everything else, I never thought he’d invite me over and treat me like this is no big deal.

I definitely didn’t expect him throwing around innuendo like we’re on a second date.

Oh, crap. Are we?

I shake my head like I can physically banish the thought.

“I like your house a lot,” I say lightly.

Keep it calm and casual. Stay cool.

He’s only grilling you steak and what smells like a delicious chimichurri sauce with his sleeves rolled up in a kitchen that should be onMasterChef.

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