Page 6 of The Mr. Right Checklist

DESTINY

I fell asleep on the couch Friday night, and much to my lazy cat Clementine’s dismay, I was up at the crack of dawn Saturday morning, stressing over every detail for my first official proposal event. I took Ruby’s advice and wore a floral halter dress with cute strappy sandals and spent extra time on my hair and makeup. I arrived two hours early to get everything set up so Ha-Joon, the middle-aged, serious-but-friendly photographer, could take pre-event pictures. My client looks like the epitome of a bride-to-be in a white sundress, her loose and lovely blond hair falling to the middle of her back. Her boyfriend is meeting her in twenty minutes, and Ha-Joon is moving stealthily around us, capturing her first look at the elaborate and romantic setting for her proposal.

Her eyes dance with excitement as she takes in the white silk I’ve draped over the branches of the stately oak tree, the picnic blanket with red rose petals scattered around it, and the antique wooden boxes, which I lined with white fabric that has red hearts on it. I filled one box with grapes and baguettes and the other with flowers and mason jars full of strawberries and blueberries. The charcuterie board is tastefully done, and the pastries are displayed on a mint-green pedestal cake stand beneath a clear glass dome. A bottle of champagne and two fancy glass bottles of water on which I’ve written their names in silver sparkling ink are chilling in a silver ice bucket. An open wicker basket with wildflowers tucked into the corners holds the champagne flutes, plates, silverware, and fabric napkins. I added a romantic, old-fashioned lantern for effect and tucked a few pink flowers around the base.

“This is so much more than I could have hoped for,” she exclaims.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. I had a lot of fun putting it together.”

“I love all the little touches. The wooden boxes, the wicker basket, the chalkboard. I feel like I walked into an Instagram photo shoot.”

“You did,” I say with an easy laugh, as Ha-Joon captures our smiles. “The pictures are going to be gorgeous.” Which I’m thankful for since I’ll be using them to promote my business.

She peers into the glass dome at the pastries. “You even got the treats Ryan loves from that bakery in Sweetwater. You listened to everything I said.”

Molly’s dad’s voice tramples through my mind. I hope you don’t make a habit of ignoring your clients’ requests. The snarky voice in my head says, See? I listen. I push those thoughts away and focus on my client. “Of course I did. You hired me to give you the perfect, stress-free proposal. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t listen.” I glance at the time on my phone. “Ryan should be here any minute. I’m going to be watching from right over there.” I point to a wooden bench by the paved path that snakes through the park.

“I’m so nervous.” She touches her hair. “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful, and you’re going to do great. Good luck.” I give her a quick hug and head over to the bench, giddy with anticipation.

I take a deep breath as I sit down, thrilled with how things are going so far, and look up at the sky, imagining my father’s loving dark eyes watching over me. “This is it, Dad,” I say just above a whisper so my client doesn’t think I’m nuts. “I’m going to make you and Mama proud.”

Movement in my peripheral vision draws my attention, and I see Molly bounding down a hill. Happiness bubbles up inside me at the sight of my favorite four-legged client, and then I see Grumpy Gus a few beats behind her, and my joy deflates. It’s strange seeing them outside of work, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize Molly is bounding directly toward the picnic blanket.

I scramble to my feet, running after her and calling out, “Molly!” just as my client shrieks and Molly tramples onto the blanket, knocking over the pastries and lantern as she lowers her big mouth over the charcuterie board and snatches up a hunk of cheese. “Nooo! Molly, come back!” She bolts back the way she came, and I chase after her.

My client is screaming, Molly’s dad is calling Molly’s name, and Molly doubles back and barrels into me, knocking me off-balance. Grumpy Gus grabs my arm, and suddenly his eyes lock on my client, and he grits out, “Shit. I need your help. Just go with this.”

“With what?”

“A kiss,” he says urgently, eyes pleading.

Shocked, I stammer, “Um . . . oka—” My voice is lost to the hard press of his warm lips as he tugs me closer. His arms circle me, holding me tight against his hard body, and boy does he feel good. He even smells good. Spicy. His tongue glides over the seam of my lips, and I open for him, allowing him to take the kiss deeper. He tastes like coffee and mint, and his tongue sweeps slowly and possessively over mine. Holy cow, the man can kiss. Desire prickles hot and enticing inside me, and just as I give myself over to the kiss and my thoughts fall away, Molly’s big paws land on my side, jarring me from my blissful state.

I stumble back in horror at what I’ve just done, but he’s still holding me, pulling me closer as my client’s angry shouts cut through the air, and Molly runs around us barking.

“What kind of business is this?” she fumes. “You’re making out with my boyfriend!”

“I . . . What? This is Ryan?” My head is still spinning, and I can’t make sense of any of this.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” he seethes through clenched teeth.

“I’m so confused,” I mumble, and pull my arm from his grip. “She hired me to put all of this together so she could propose to you.”

He looks mildly disgusted. “You’re the person behind those proposal flyers?”

I lift my chin. “If you mean Get the Yes, then yes, I am.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he mutters with blatant irritation.

I huff out a breath. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you to be nice?”

“Didn’t yours ever teach you to do your homework?” He motions to Cecilia. “She’s a student of mine at Beckwith.”

“Ryan, don’t pretend—”

“Cecilia, stop,” he demands. “And it’s Professor Fletcher to you.”