One Bossy Proposal: Enemies to Lovers Romance

“Umm—as kind as it was for you to offer me the afternoon off, I can’t keep up with both Lucy’s job and my own and take time off to play post lady.”

“After that meeting, I’m surprised you care.” His eyes narrow in the usual scary-hot way.

“What can I say? Your money’s good. It keeps me from exploring the dark corners of my mind in lyrical form and accidentally dropping it in your inbox so you can keep laughing at me after you said you wouldn’t.”

The harshness in his expression fades.

“Point taken, Miss Poe. I’ll do better.”

I glare at him.

“I really do need that package picked up,” he says, his voice weirdly gentler. “Leave whenever you want, but make sure you can grab it and meet me at the address by six thirty.”

“Does Lucy always pick up your personal packages?”

“No, but she has been known to do me small favors like this when needed. Believe me, I don’t make this sort of thing a habit. Since you already intruded on this part of my life, you’d might as well be included.”

Is he talking about—oh, right. The park. The homeless stuff.

I’m annoyed that my curiosity rises.

“Careful, Burns. You’re starting to rhyme. Next thing I know, you’ll be the one sending me poetry,” I say.

“Careful what you wish for, Nevermore,” he grumbles, trying oh-so-hard not to break into a smile before he turns his back.

“Hey, wait. What did I intrude on? Can you at least tell me?” I ask.

He barely pauses to throw a dark look over his shoulder.

“You’ll know when you get there.”

Jeez. Who can turn down that sort of mystery?

I fly through the contracts as fast as I can because now I want to find out what this package is. I forward the last proposal to Lincoln and knock on his door.

“I’m ready, but I’d rather not take the company car. My bike is here. How big is this package, though?”

“Take the company car,” he insists. “I’ll drop you back here when we’re done tonight.”

“We? So you’re going to be there, too? Where are we going?”

“You have the address.”

“What are we doing?”

I watch his face tighten, his eyes hardening at me for pestering him.

“You’ll find out when you get there, Dakota, like I’ve told you repeatedly.”

Dakota.

I don’t want to acknowledge what hearing my name from that mouth does to me. I’m tingling.

“You’re not going to tell me anything? Not even a hint?” I venture.

“I’ve told you everything you need to know, now scram,” he growls, swiping a hand at me.

I don’t say anything, but my face must speak for me.

Just when I’m expecting him to slam the door in my face, he stops and smiles. His eyes soften.

“What the hell is it now, Nevermore?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a horse’s dick?”

“You, on the day I met you. And I’ll take that as a compliment considering their size. We have a lot in common.”

Oh my God.

No.

Just.

It takes effort to make my tongue work. It feels frozen by all the awful thoughts conjured up by my boss’ hint that he’s packing below the belt.

“Okay, just...making sure you know,” I say quietly.

How lame.

“I knew there was a reason I keep you around, so I can stay well-informed about my endowment,” he says.

“Happy to be of service. Okay, it’s package time then.” I start moving with a blush, hoping he won’t latch on to that last word.

“Stop at Sweeter Grind and get at least three Regis rolls,” he calls after me. “Hell, get six if they have them.”

I stop moving just long enough to shake my head and look back at him. “You need rehab. There must be a cinnamon addiction program somewhere. I’m worried it’s a bona fide health crisis at this point.”

“Just bring me the damn rolls,” he barks.

I put two fingers to my forehead and salute him.

“Will do, Captain.” Then I spin around on my heel, ready to leave.

“Dakota?” Oh. He isn’t done.

I look back over my shoulder, waiting as he stares at me strangely. Longingly?

“Yes?” I’ve stopped breathing, counting the seconds.

“I like your dress today,” he says sincerely.

Holy crap.

I smile before I can help it.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

I’m not even sure what to make of that and I don’t have time to wonder.

Before I drop dead, I race downstairs to the smiling driver who’s already waiting to open the door for me. I climb inside the jet-black town car without a fuss.

I’m glad I do, even if it brings me back to that rainy night he took me home. On the inside, it’s luxe leather, almost limo-like.

“Hi,” I say.

The driver turns and nods at me over his spectacles before we’re moving, looking vaguely surprised. “Hello. You must be the lovely Miss Poe. Mr. Burns told me I’d be chauffeuring this afternoon. It’s a pleasure.”

It’s not the first time. He’s an older man, the same driver who took me home that night, though I didn’t introduce myself then.