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Thankfully, he likes her.
This dog sitter/caretaker combo isn't cheap but works for everyone.
I look at the mess in my room, and my journal is on my bed. I usually don’t write on weekends since I don’t see my source of inspiration—my asshole boss. Still, I take it and put it inside my nightstand drawer in case my father walks in. We have a great relationship, but I don’t want him accidentally reading about my twisted sexual fantasies.
On cue, Dad knocks on my door. "Honey, have you seen my aspirin?"
"It's in the kitchen cabinet," I say, opening the door. "Why? What's wrong?" Since he was diagnosed with heart disease about a year ago, I got super worried one day that he'd forget his meds and drop dead. Ridiculous, yes, but that's leftover trauma from losing my mom.
He lifts his hands. "I have an annoying headache, nothing serious."
I look at him, getting close. "Dad, are you sure?" If he says something is wrong, I may have to tell my grumpy boss that a family emergency keeps me from fulfilling my duties tonight.
He smiles. My dad has always been a good-looking man. I inherited my hazel eyes from him. Now in his late sixties, he's stockier than in his prime, but he still has a kind smile and gives the best hugs.
"You look sophisticated," he says.
"Thanks." I smile. "I thought I needed something with more pizzazz, so I borrowed this get-up from a coworker, but am now second guessing."
"Don't." He kisses the top of my head. "You're beautiful."
"Thanks. The driver should be picking me up soon." I told Archer I could drive myself, but he probably wanted to send his driver to ensure I wouldn't be late or change my mind. Why would I change my mind?
This is business masked as something else. Nothing more.
Maybe I should have worn one of my outfits, but who would believe my boss would date someone who shops at TJ Maxx?
Not a soul.
I should’ve mentioned I didn't have anything fancy to wear, but I didn't want to sound lame. And Archer doesn’t think about these things. Considering other people isn't his forte.
Moonshine barks again, this time announcing someone at the door. She can sense visitors before they even touch the doorbell. I grab the clutch and reach the entrance. My father follows me, along with an excited Moonshine.
I slide into the black high heels I bought a few years ago but never wear them because they're too uncomfortable. Well, tonight I don't have a choice. Nothing about being Archer’s fake date is comfortable, so I may as well dress the part.
I open the door, and the dog comes behind my legs. I bend to grab her collar to keep her from jumping on the poor driver. "I'm sorry. I could say we tried to train her, but that'd be a lie."
Moonshine barks, and when my gaze meets the driver's, my heart skips a beat.
Because it's not the driver.
It's the devil himself. Archer Cromwell.
On my doorstep, wearing a well-fitted jacket, a crisp blue shirt, and slacks. What the fuck is he doing here?
"It's okay," he says, probably seeing my look of confusion. My driver had an emergency, so I came to get you."
"Oh."
Moonshine barks again, excitement oozing from her. I shush her uselessly and step back to keep her from licking and attacking my boss.
Archer takes advantage of the chaos surrounding me and steps into my home, entering my domain and doubling my anxiety. What the hell is happening? Couldn't he text me to meet him in front? Having him inside my condo feels… intimate. Personal.
"What's going on?" Dad asks behind me.
Fuck it. I let go of Moonshine, deciding not to worry about how much hair she's about to shed on Archer's suit. "My boss came to pick me up. His driver wasn't available. We're going to that event." I don’t say dinner because it sounds intimate, even though it's not—there will be a couple dozen people present, I gather.
"Nice to meet you. Rick Dillon," Dad says, stretching his hand.
