Page 7 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“Wait. You’re not even dating her?” I ask incredulously, and before he can respond, I turn on Cecilia. “You made all that up? He doesn’t buy you red roses every week? He doesn’t take you to antique shops on the weekends? Sweetie Pies isn’t his favorite bakery?”

“Hell no,” he growls, and the reality of what I’ve done hits me like a truck.

“That’s not true!” Cecilia whines. “I heard you tell Professor Grant Sweetie Pies was your favorite.”

“The only reason you overheard that is because you’ve been stalking me, and it ends now. I’ve told you multiple times that I don’t get involved with students. Now I’ll let the police and Beckwith administration handle you.” He puts his phone to his ear.

Cecilia shoots me a death stare. If looks could kill, I’d be pushing up daisies right now.

“You ruined everything,” she snarls and stalks off as Ryan tells the police our location, Molly goes paws up against my stomach, and Ha-Joon captures it all for my first-and-worst event memory book.

FLETCH

I’m trying to focus on the policeman as he explains what I need to do to file a restraining order against my student, which sounds like a big fucking headache to me, but I can’t take my eyes off the woman behind this fiasco, Molly’s groomer, in that short floral halter dress that makes her look about nineteen years old. I have no idea how old she is, but nobody gets that kind of confidence without a few years of real life behind them. She’s making several trips to her car, arms full of decorations, food, and whatever else she has over there, and my dog is trotting along behind her. I’ve tried calling my fluffy monster, who licks the girl’s face every time she crouches to pick something up. Groomer Girl looks frazzled. She keeps dropping things and looking up at the sky, talking to herself. Molly thinks it’s a game. She picks up some of what’s been dropped and takes off with it. That’s the only time Groomer Girl’s too-big smile appears, and for some reason it sends my mind straight back to that freaking kiss.

I panicked when I saw Cecilia. I intended to just give Molly’s groomer a quick peck to get Cecilia to back off. I don’t know what happened. I must have lost my mind. I like tall women with meat on their bones. Soft womanly curves, breasts that more than fill my hands, a nice round ass, and ample hips made for holding on to. This girl is maybe five four and skinny as a bird. But Jesus, that hot, willing mouth of hers drew me right in. I watch her climb into her car and drive away, and thoughts of what else I’d like to do to that mouth taunt me.

As if I need that headache in my life.

“So you’ll come down to the station?” the policeman asks, jerking me from my thoughts.

I clear my throat in an effort to clear my mind. What the hell is wrong with me? It was one kiss with a woman whose name I don’t even know. “Yeah.” I motion to Molly sniffing around the big oak tree. “I’ll be there after I drop my dog off at home.”

With a nod, the policeman walks away.

I silently chastise myself for that kiss. I imagine Groomer Girl telling her friend at the front desk of Perfect Paws about the kiss and realize I have to find a new groomer for Molly. Just one more headache to deal with. I whistle for Molly. “Come on, girl!”

Molly runs toward me with something red in her mouth.

“Whatcha got?” I give her a pet and take the wallet from her mouth. As I pull out a driver’s license to see who it belongs to, a second one comes out with it—one local, one from Georgia—and I’m met with those Julia Roberts smiles. Groomer Girl looks like she’s smiling for cameras on the red carpet, that alluring dimple in full force.

I look down at Molly. “You couldn’t have given this to her?” Molly barks and takes off again. What is it with females? Even my dog is defiant.

I glance at the name, address, and issue dates on the licenses and realize with irritation that Groomer Girl lives around the corner from me. “You’re a long way from Rosebell, Georgia, Destiny Amor. What happened? Did you get chased out of Georgia for setting up too many stalkers with their victims?”

Chapter Four

DESTINY

I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened as I carry the picnic paraphernalia into the house I’m renting a few blocks from Main Street and the park. I bump the door closed with my butt and drop the last of the supplies from my epic failure on the floor by the living room. Between my mess from prepping for the event and my usual casual lifestyle, my place is kind of a disaster.

Clementine jumps off the couch and prances over. His soft tail brushes my leg as he winds around my feet. Sighing, I scoop him up and kiss the scar where his left ear should be. I don’t know what happened to it. It was missing when I found him.

“I love you, sweet pea, but now is not a good time. Mama’s life dream was just turned upside down.”

I set him on the floor and pull my phone out of my dress pocket. I briefly consider calling Ruby, but I don’t want to bum her out, so I call the person I’ve always turned to in times like these, instead. With a heavy heart, I put the phone to my ear. My father’s craggy voice takes my anxiety down a notch as I listen to his message. “Hi, Daddy, it’s me. I am sorry to report that it was an utter disaster.” I pace by the stairs, my pulse quickening with agitation. “The girl lied about everything, and the guy she said was her boyfriend turned out to be a grooming client, and he was madder than a cat on a hot tin roof.” Disappointment swamps me. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I want it so bad, but . . . I don’t know. I wish you were here. I wish you could send me a sign and let me know if I should cut and run or stick it out.”

A knock sounds at my door.

“I really believed this was it for me, you know? I thought I could do it,” I say as I head over to answer the door. I pull it open, and my chest constricts at the sight of a stoic-faced Ryan or Fletch or whatever his name is, standing on my front porch with Molly. A dozen thoughts race through my mind at once—I kissed him! Why is he here? How does he know where I live?—and I realize I know nothing about this man. Embarrassment and worry trample through me. “I gotta go, Daddy. Love you.” I end the call, holding Ryan/Fletch’s gaze. “How do you know where I live? Are you a stalker, too? Are the police with you?” I lean out the door looking for them as another concern hits me. “Am I going to be arrested as an accomplice to your stalker? Is that a thing? Because I didn’t know.”

A rough laugh tumbles past his lips, and now I’m thinking about those lips and that scorching-hot kiss again.

“It’s probably a thing,” he says. “But no. You dropped your wallet at the park. I’m just here to return it.” He holds up my wallet.

My relief rushes out. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. For a minute there, I thought I was in trouble. Thank you.” I reach for my wallet and feel Clementine’s tail on my leg.

Molly lunges for him, yanking the leash from Ryan/Fletch’s hand as she sprints after the cat. “Molly!” we shout in unison, and as Ryan runs after her, I slam the door and follow.