Page 46 of The Mr. Right Checklist

Shocked that he came to my defense, and with such a stern voice, my thoughts stumble.

“She’s far more prepared now than she was at that time,” Fletch adds. “If this fits her vision, I’d appreciate you considering renting it to her for the event.”

“I was joking. I’m happy to let her use it.” Rich looks at me. “But I’m not going to charge you to use it. It’s going to cost you a pretty penny to get this place cleaned up.”

“You’re sweet to worry about that, and I appreciate the offer, but I can’t take a handout.”

“It’s not a handout. Consider it a test run. I’ve been overlooking the best view in all of Sunnyvale. If your event goes well, I might consider finishing this space off and holding my own events up here.”

I pat his arm. “Look at you, thinking outside the box! I love that idea, and I’m thrilled to be your inspiration.” I move to hug him, then stop short, remembering I’m supposed to be a professional. I offer my hand instead. “Thank you, Rich.”

“Put that hand away. I’m a hugger, too.” He wraps me in his beefy arms, and I beam at Fletch, who’s finally showing a fissure in his frustrating facade and is almost smiling.

I tell Rich about my vision for the proposal, and he seems excited, though wary about whether I can really pull it off. We talk about bringing in safety barriers to make sure nobody gets too close to the edge, and after exchanging contact information, I promise to be in touch soon.

I’m flying high as we head to the car. “Thank you for taking me here. This is where it’s meant to happen. I can feel it.”

He opens my car door. “I’m glad you’re happy, sunshine.”

That’s the first time he’s called me that all day. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. I climb into my seat and watch him walk around to the driver’s side. I wish I knew why he’s been acting so standoffish. As he settles behind the wheel, I try again to ease the tension.

“Rich is a peach. I bet you two had a lot of fun when you were kids.”

“We had a good time.”

His bland tone doesn’t improve on the drive home as I ask him questions about him and Rich and try to lighten the mood. When we reach Main Street, I’m a breath away from losing my mind. “Just drive to your house. I’ll walk from there. I need some fresh air.”

He eyes me disapprovingly.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big girl. I can walk around the block without a chaperone.”

“I’ll walk you home.” He grits his teeth and turns down his street.

He sounds so annoyed, I can’t take another second of it. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He turns into his driveway and cuts the engine.

“Don’t give me that nonsense. You know darn well you’re not acting like yourself. Are you upset with me? Did I say or do something to bother you? I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I can’t think of a time I was rude or anything. Unless . . .” The flowers. My stomach sinks. “I should’ve texted or called to thank you right away when you sent me those flowers. That was rude of me, and I know better. But they meant a lot to me, and I was afraid I’d come across like a buffoon or a clingy girl trying to snatch you up, and I didn’t want to make you feel like I was getting that way toward you.”

“I didn’t expect a thank-you,” he grits out. “And I know you’re not looking at me that way.”

“Then why are you keepin’ your distance from me? I thought we had a connection. A meaningful friendship. But you’re treating me like you don’t even want to be here.”

“I do want to be here. I’m just trying not to step over the line,” he says tightly.

“Have you lost your mind? What line?”

“The one you drew in the sand yesterday.”

“What in farm hill are you talkin’ about?” I don’t mean to raise my voice, but I can’t stop. “I wasn’t anywhere near sand yesterday!”

“It’s a metaphor,” he practically growls.

I throw my hands up. “For what?”

“Jesus. You were damn clear yesterday about not wanting me to kiss you again, which is fine. That’s your choice. But you’ve gotten under my skin with your sweet Southern accent and over-the-top exuberance, and I’m so damn attracted to you, I can’t turn it off.” His voice escalates, his words dripping with frustration. “So am I keeping my distance? You bet your ass I am, because if I get too close, I’m afraid I’ll cross that line, and I don’t want to disrespect you.”

“I still don’t know what sandy line you’re talking about, but I didn’t draw it!” I shout. “Are you saying you want to kiss me?”