Page 243 of One Bossy Disaster

Even with all this tension, he makes me tingle.

God, I love him.

Love him.

Like, we’re not even at the six-months together mark, but in this small, tucked-away part of me, I already know this is forever.

A forever I could never experience with anyone else.

“Cole, let me be frank,” Shepherd says, going straight for the first name. Risky. “I don’t need your blessing to date your daughter, but I’d like it. I respect you for raising an angel who's only thirty percent brat.”

I dart him a dirty look.

Dad’s eyes narrow and his lips thin.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s happy about this. I just hope he can respect another man who shoots straight.

Please be cool. Be reasonable. Be fair, I plead silently.Dad, don’t embarrass me.

“Damn. There’s no disputing the fact you saved my Destiny,” Dad says after the world’s longest silence. “Whatever,Shepherd,you get one chance. One. Don’t fuck it up and make me regret giving you a green light.”

Holy hell.

Another grim silence.

Shepherd weighs his words. I don’t know how to tell him that coming from Dad, this is basically the most generous thing ever.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need the memo.

“You won’t be disappointed, Cole. Thank you.”

“See that I’m not.” Dad’s eyes rake Shepherd again before he stands and extends a hand.

They shake hands again, and this time it’s a little less like two snapping bears.

Fortunately, Eliza walks back into this weird-ass manly ritual with a tray full of steaming coffee mugs, banishing the awkwardness.

“It’s sweet, it’s steamy, and it’s full of blueberry goodness straight from Alaska! Come try my latest creation,” she sings, pressing a mug into everyone’s hands.

Her eyes twinkle and she gives me a wink.

He’s hot, she mouths.

I have to agree.

Shepherd is a meteorite, scorching and fallen and brilliant, all blaze in body, mind, and soul.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully get used to how he loves me, though.

I’m still smiling into my first sip of the new blueberry brew. Eliza has a real 80-20 thing going on with her coffee creations, but this one’s an instant winner.

I can’t tell if it’s the sweetness of the drink that makes me so giddy or the fact that the two men in my life can finally make eye contact without looking like it’s pistols at dawn.

After another hour of polite coffee talk with them, we make our escape.

I rest my head on Shepherd’s arm as we walk the gardens stretching down to the water behind the house, hand in hand.

“That went well!”

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