Page 38 of The Mr. Right Checklist

I thought she was a force of nature before, but damn. She doesn’t seem to notice or care that her voice could shatter glass, and that energy and confidence are two of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen. Second only to the hint of sweet vulnerability in those shimmering eyes that I’m sure nobody else can see as she struts across the stage. I’m so drawn to everything about her, by the time she sings the last words, she couldn’t sound more beautiful to me.

The crowd goes wild, whistling and applauding, and Destiny looks bashfully from the audience to the floor and back again. Fidgeting with the mic, she puts one foot behind the other and does a half curtsy. She hands the mic to Mac and hurries off the stage.

I push to my feet as she rushes over, and that bashfulness gives way to a beaming grin. I take her hand, pulling her closer. “You must have been a pop star in a previous life, sunshine. That was awesome.”

“Thanks. I know I can’t hold a tune, but I love singing.”

“Don’t give me that nonsense.” I pull her stool out for her. “You sounded great. Everyone loved it.”

As we sit, she exclaims, “Oh good. I still have some of my drink left.” She puts the straw to her lips, glancing at me with a sexy glint in her eyes.

She is going to be the death of me. I can feel it in my bones.

I also feel like the luckiest guy in the place to have her all to myself.

When we finally leave the bar, she’s giddily tipsy and I’m fighting a losing battle to keep my distance. She puts her arms out to her sides and looks up at the clear night sky.

“I did it, Daddy. I’m officially in business with my first client. I hope I make you and Mama proud.”

The reminder that she has no family guts me anew, but her unabashed love for them speaks to that organ in my chest that I’ve spent the last ten years coating in steel. Wanting to be closer to her, to let her know she’s not alone, I drape an arm over her shoulder as we walk down the sidewalk. “Do you talk to him often?”

“Yes.” She presses herself against my side. “I picture him and my mama as stars watching over me. Wanna hear something kind of silly?”

“You, say something silly?”

She swats my stomach.

I laugh. “Tell me your silliness.”

“I still pay for his cell phone so I can call and hear his voice. I leave him messages, too. I know it sounds a little wackadoo, but it makes me feel closer to him.”

I hold her tighter, wishing I could bring her family back, and press a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s not silly, and you don’t sound crazy. Do you ever talk to your mom?”

“Sometimes, but not like my dad. I was so young when she died, I didn’t get a chance to know her as an adult, like I did with my dad. He and I used to talk a lot. He was my best friend other than Ruby.”

“Does he ever answer you?”

“In my heart he does, and sometimes he sends me signs.” She looks up at me. “Like the day of the fiasco. Before you came over, I was ready to give up on Get the Yes, and I asked him to give me a sign so I would know if I should or not.” We turn the corner, heading for her place. “Then you knocked on my door and told me not to give up.”

“You think your father sent me, and it had nothing to do with returning the wallet you dropped at the park?”

She shrugs. “I think he did, but it’s okay if you don’t. All I know is that you’ve gotten into my head, Ryan Fletcher, and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I want to grab hold of those words and take them at face value, but I have a feeling this is just the alcohol talking. “Maybe that’s because we’re working together every day.”

“Nope. I work with Ruby almost every day, and she’s not in my head. I was talking to her today and realized I didn’t even talk to my dad this morning when I was so nervous about meeting with Arjun. I usually talk to him about all the big things in my life. But I talked to you instead, and you made me feel better.” We turn onto her street. “Even Ruby can’t make me feel better the way talking to my dad does.”

“I’m glad I helped, but I don’t want to take your father’s place, sunshine.” My thoughts about you are definitely not paternal.

She snuggles into my side, and man, she feels good. “Nobody could take his place. Besides, there’s the whole kiss thing, and my thoughts on that are definitely not father-daughterly. I don’t know where you learned to kiss like that, but I can’t stop thinking about kissin’ you.”

This was not helping me keep my distance. “Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. Your kisses are hotter than Betty Jean’s barbecue back home, and that stuff is flamin’ hot. I swear I think about kissing you a dozen times every day. A dozen times every hour,” she says as we ascend her porch steps. “Then there’s the dirty thoughts I keep having about you. I imagine your face, and so much more. I should be ashamed they’re so dirty.”

Was she trying to shred my restraint one confession at a time? Because she was doing a damn good job of it, and now I wanted to make those thoughts a reality.

“Listen to me going on like a giddy girl. Did I say too much?” She blinks up at me innocently and somehow also seductively, her hazel eyes brimming with so much desire, something inside me snaps.