Page 8 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

The living room was undisturbed. No chaos to be found.

I checked the kitchen. She liked to get herself a bowl of cereal while I was sleeping in, but all the dishes were still neatly stacked in the drying rack. I didn’t even see any evidence that she’d eaten cereal and washed the dish and put it back.

Swallowing hard, I rushed to the front door. Where else could she be?

Soon as I opened the door, the sound of running water made me whirl toward the driveway—where my daughter was plastered with water and aiming the hose at my small SUV. A bucket of soapy water was next to her feet and a soap-laden sponge had been tossed on the hood.

“Berry?”

She spun around, forgetting to lower the hose, and I was instantly drenched—and instantly squealing and laughing despite being outside in my now dripping pajamas.

“Oops, sorry, Mom! I didn’t see you there!”

Somehow I was still laughing. My panic had subsided into hysterical giggles and Berry was just staring at me as if she was confused.

She wasn’t the only one.

“You’re washing my car?” I mean, it was fairly obvious, but she’d never done it before.

“Huh?” she shouted over the water.

“Turn off the hose, Berry.”

“Huh?” she repeated.

I mimed putting down the hose and she finally got the message to turn it off. “I wasn’t done yet,” she complained. “It’s still all soapy.”

That was the truth. Soapy rivulets were running down the doors and collecting on the tires.

“You can finish in a second. Why did you decide to wash it?”

“Because it was dirty.”

My daughter was far too logical—and a bit of a smartass. No idea where she’d gotten that from.

“Want me to help you finish?”

“I’ve got it.”

She was stubborn too. That was definitely not one of my traits.

“Okay. Thank you for washing it.”

She shrugged, flinging water everywhere from her long curls. “No big.” She gave me a critical glance. “You should take a shower. You’re kind of a mess.”

“Gee, thanks. How do you feel about going to Grams and Pops’ house today for a while so I can meet with a client?”

Potential client, I reminded myself.

“Whatevs.” She’d already turned on the hose again.

Supposed we were done.

I trudged inside, peeling off my sopping pajamas as I went. I dumped them in the basket in the laundry room then headed up to shower and dress after I placed a quick call to my mom and dad.

Thankfully, they didn’t have plans and couldn’t wait to spend time with Berry. I’d truly lucked out with them.

What I hadn’t lucked out with? My unruly hair.

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