Page 242 of One Bossy Disaster

“Not a bad outcome, especially for this judicial district. I looked at your legal team. Impressive credentials,” Dad admits.

Oh, boy, so he’s decided to be all business.

I guess that’s better than yelling.

Still, I roll my eyes.

If they’re going to talk status the whole time, we’re never getting anywhere.

“Yes, guys. The wicked witch is gone and even Meghan got a happy ending. She’s rebranded to show off her healing, talking through her problems and her experiences with therapy, hoping it’ll help other folks with abusive situations. I’m proud of her. But can we get off the big bad? Like, why don’t we talk about the fact that we’re dating?” I say brightly.

“Dating,” Dad spits.

His face tightens like a lion's, trying to decide if that pesky hyena is worth the mauling.

I barely refrain from reminding him I’m a grown woman, totally capable of making my own decisions—and choosing who to date, with no shotgun approval from my father necessary.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Shepherd says, still formal. Still wary.

When he said he knew it would go well and that he didn’t need my dad’s permission, I didn’t believe him.

This is way more intense than I expected. I’m practically sweating, even if I’m the one egging them on.

“It’s not good,” Dad growls.

My heart stops. I fight the urge to pinch my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Oh, yup, here we go...

“You saved my daughter,” Dad says abruptly. “She told me everything that happened on the yacht. After I got past the urge to dismember Miss Cerva with my bare hands, and then Destiny herself for lying to me while she was trapped on a sinking ship, I decided I wanted you a little less dead, Foster. You saved her life.”

What what?

That's—not what I expected.

My heart flutters hopefully.

“He did,” I manage. “Without Shepherd, I would’ve been fish food for sure.”

“I’m glad to hear you can tolerate me breathing, Mr. Lancaster. However, even if you planned to throw me off Mount Rainier one bloody chunk at a time, I’d have saved her anyway. There’s no way I'd ever let anything happen,” Shepherd says, glancing at me and squeezing my hand so tightly.

There’s a glimmer in his glacial-blue eyes like spring, and his mouth curls up very slightly.

It’s the kind of smile he only ever gives me.

Our secret smile, and I love it.

Dad just watches us, steely at first, but then his face slowly relaxes.

“We have that in common, I suppose,” he says. “Rescuing women from maniacs in the worst storms to hit Washington in the last fifty years.”

“Yes, sir.” Shepherd nods slowly. “I heard about your situation. Not an experience I’d ever recommend.”

“Wasn't my favorite time,” Dad agrees.

“But we got through it, didn't we?” It’s my turn to squeeze his hand.

His thumb traces over the back of my palm.

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