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“All right then. Anything else I should know?”
I rub the back of my head, suddenly apprehensive to tell her about the latest development with the will. But I told her I’d be as honest as possible, and I’m a man of my word.
“You’re joking.” Her mouth pops open, feet planted apart after I’ve shared the details Patricia discussed with me. “A real, fake engagement?”
“Can’t you at least try to hide your displeasure?”
“Fine, but I’m only agreeing to do this for him.” Her mouth forms a thin line, but the sound of her father belting the lyrics to a Queen song outside slumps her shoulders. “And just so you’re aware, there’s a decent chance this surprise meeting could go very badly.”
“Overprotective fathers don’t frighten me.”
“He hates your type more than I do,” she retorts.
Her contempt triggers a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach, but I block it out. I’ve got a list a mile long of envious, greedy competitors who hate me for one reason or another, and their opinions of me don’t matter any more than that of a mouthy, country florist.
“Trust me, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s coercing people.”
A huff slips between her light pink lips.
“I’ll have you know that being naturally charming is a valuable skill.”
Her hip cocks when she crosses her arms. “You’re arrogant. That’s not the same as charming.”
“Hmph.”
Molly spins on a heel for the back door, and once she disappears, I take a lap around the room. A sense of longing sucker-punches me square in the gut as sunshine pours in from the rustic, wood-paned windows, highlighting a set of old couches and a recliner that wears the permanent imprint of a body.
My high-rise in Seattle has none of this. No charm, no character… nothing.
I reach for a framed photo on the coffee table where Molly’s parents are posing with a younger version of her, with what appears to be a deep sunburn on her face and two brown pigtails.
“I don’t think so,” Molly says, reappearing suddenly.
She rips it from my grasp and slaps the frame face down before making a pass around the room and turning the rest. “I draw the line at looking at family photos. In fact, when we’re done here, I think we should establish some ground rules.”
“Rules?” I question, enjoying the way she’s openly agitated.
“Yeah, you know, boundaries for what’s off limits. Things we aren’t comfortable sharing or, uh… doing. Stuff like that.”
It’s cute, that thing she does with her hands, waving them around while she’s talking.
“I’m an open book.” I step so we’re toe to toe, and lower my face so my mouth brushes the shell of her ear. “As far as what we do… How far we go… Where we touch… Well, that’s entirely up to you.”
Her green eyes widen before capturing my cocky grin.
“You’re blushing, kitten.”
Her father enters through the back door of their kitchen, wiping his hands on a tattered rag before tossing it on the counter.
“The rules are to be determined, then,” she whispers before smiling at him. “Hey, Dad.”
Impossible woman.
I rope my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side. “You may want to pretend you actually like your boyfriend if we’re going to sell this.”
Her grumbled complaint vibrates my chest when she finally slips her arm around me. “I doubt you’re even capable of being boyfriend material.”
“Challenge accepted.”
