For once, Daniel woke up without being kicked out of the house. Emboldened, he shamelessly stayed for dinner.
Ashley, delighted at the sight of her wayward son finally patching things up with his girlfriend, whipped up a lavish meal. The table was loaded with roast chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, a colorful salad, and her signature apple pie.
Afterward, Daniel lingered, searching for any excuse to stay, but none presented itself.
Amelia, ever polite, walked him to the door. “Thank you,” she said.
Daniel shoved one hand in his pocket and arched an eyebrow. “You’re being awfully nice. Not planning to butter me up and then smack me, are you?”
Amelia gave him a long, silent look. “If you want a slap, that can be arranged.”
She paused, then added, “The police called me today. You took them over there, didn’t you?”
For a fleeting moment, Daniel had thought maybe Amelia was finally seeing his good side.
“It just took a little persuading. She confessed right away. Turns out, the dog goes nuts around alcohol—bites anyone it gets near.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes. “What exactly does ‘a little persuading’ mean?”
“Don’t give me that look—I’m the picture of law-abiding,” Daniel replied, his voice breezy. “We just had a heart-to-heart, played a couple of games. I guess we hit it off, so she confessed.”
Amelia clearly didn’t buy that his methods were as squeaky-clean as he claimed. Still, the woman deserved what she got, and Amelia wasn’t about to play the saint.
—
The whole mess blew over, and the weekend passed in peace.
Monday morning, Amelia received another bouquet—this time, champagne roses.
The card was as shameless as ever.
*Don’t keep your distance. I want to be closer than close to you.*
Enough was enough. Amelia grabbed her phone and called.
“Daniel, will you quit it already?”
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