One Bossy Date: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

Eight Months Later

“Wow!” Maisy whispers for the dozenth time. “Pippy, when you promised to take me to Europe, I didn’t think we’d be staying in a castle!”

She bounces up and down on the balls of her feet.

“It’s technically not a castle. Just an old English estate,” I say.

Honestly, though, she’s right to wonder with its soaring towers and turrets and beautifully archaic stone walls.

This house is huge and historic and intimidating even for me, and I’ve been here before. When we did the three-month tour, his grandparents hosted us.

English roses climb the iron gate that protects it from the modern world.

“Estate? So, he is Mr. Darcy,” Maisy says with a laugh. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Better. He’s just Brock.” I smile because the man I’m about to spend forever with is never ‘just’ anything.

“Seriously, lady. How did you get so lucky? You fell facedown in a fairy tale!” Jenn says, spinning around and taking in the mudroom.

I laugh. “Guys, come on. You know who Brock’s grandparents are and I don’t just mean rich. They’re wonderful people. It’s no big deal, really.”

Actually, it’s a huge deal.

I’m not even sure Dad would have felt comfortable with a Winthrope Seattle wedding, and this place puts every breathtaking resort they own to shame.

I glance around in awe as we head for the main door. The courtyard is covered with flowers. Fragrant bursts of color pop everywhere, perfuming the spring air as we walk up broad brownstone stairs to the house.

I knock on the door.

“Miss Renee, how are you?” The butler answers a second later.

“Of course, there’s a butler!” Jenn whispers with a laugh.

“Splendid, Geoffrey. How are you?”

“Fine, indeed. I’ll let Mr. Winthrope know you’ve arrived.”

“I’m aware. Thanks.” Brock appears in a silver suit right behind him and reminds me he’s learned a few manners.

His suit fits his sculpted bod like a glove over a workman’s hand.

And he thieves my breath away, even before his piercing blue gaze meets my eyes. “Welcome back, Sunshine. It’s been too dark around here.”

I smile, blushing as I step toward him.

Jenn and Maisy exchange a look and trail in behind us.

They stop when they hear a skittering sound rapidly flying toward us.

Andy’s bark sounds about a second before he comes tearing around the corner. He flies in from a long hallway and darts between the butler’s legs.

Poor Geoffrey almost stumbles over the dog’s long body. Andy barks some more as he untangles himself and marches up to my feet.

He licks my shoe and sits at attention, his little dark eyes brimming with excitement.

“Hi, hot dog. I missed you.” I scoop up all thirty-something pounds of pup, holding him like the overgrown baby he is.

Brock closes the space between us, drapes an arm around me, and moves me to his side so he can see everyone else.

His eyes light up when he sees who’s behind Maisy and Jenn.

“How was your trip over the pond, Mr. Renee?”

“Too damn long. Makes you wonder why they ever retired the Concord. But since you’re marrying my little girl, you can start calling me Harold.”

They lock hands and exchange smiles, melting into their own conversation.

Later, when we sit down for dinner, Maisy looks at the silverware beside her plate.

“That’s…a lot of forks and knives. Why do I have so many again?” She picks up the fish knife and holds it up. “And why do I have a scalpel?”

Brock chuckles.

“It’s a fish knife,” I say.

“Huh. That’s no fish knife I’ve ever seen,” Dad grumps.

I’m really worried about how this is going when Mrs. Winthrope says, “You know what? I’m exhausted with these stuffy formal dinners. We’re supposed to be having fun!”

The maid stops pouring wine in her glass and looks appalled.

Mrs. Winthrope meets her eyes. “Why don’t we do drinks in the family room?”

“The cook won’t be prepared, ma’am,” the maid says.

Mrs. Winthrope stands.

“Oh, I’ll help her. It shouldn’t take long to throw together sandwiches from the ham. We have a pile of cakes too. Since we’re skipping the formalities, why don’t we go straight to dessert?”

“Ha, I knew you folks knew how to cut loose. Always wanted to eat my weight in sweets in a castle,” Dad says.

Everybody laughs.

The tea dinner in the family room is a dream. It’s sandwiches, chips, and several heaping cakes and fruit pies that shame every bakery I’ve ever visited.

Even better, everyone actually relaxes. Comfortable conversations and easy laughs fly around the room.

Crisis averted.

Brock wraps an arm around me as I breathe a sigh of relief. We turn back to the newcomers sitting across from us, a tall couple who look like casual royalty.

Meeting Brock’s parents feels less awkward than I expected.

Dalton and Katherine Winthrope are—something, all right. Very modern, highly educated, quick to boast about their travels and their charity work, and weirdly indifferent to the fact that their son has his wedding tomorrow.

I get why he’s closer to his grandparents. Still, they’re not bad people, and I’m pumped that I’m getting two awesome new grandparents out of this deal.

The evening draws on with drinks flowing. Ross Winthrope adds another log to the crackling fire in a hearth that looks like the mouth of a cave.

And every time Brock gets up to refill our glasses—and sneak in a break from his parents—he steals quiet kisses that tell me just how grateful he is that our knots are about to be permanently tied.

After everyone fades off to their rooms for the night in the massive house, I sneak into Brock’s room.

“What are you doing here?” He leans down and kisses me. “Tomorrow’s the big day. It’s tradition not to see each other overnight.”

“New tradition—I don’t go into my wedding missing you like mad,” I say with a laugh. “I love your grandma, by the way. She totally saved the day.”

He grins. “She’s an amazing hostess and a better human being. Is that all you came to tell me?”

“No. I came for my kiss.”

He gently grabs my neck and tilts my face, pulling my mouth to his.

Fireworks.

As long as I live and whatever we become, I will never, ever get sick of tasting his growl.

“Lights out, Sunshine. We have a big day tomorrow.”

I’m not sure where dreams end and real life begins.

Here I am, wearing a dress that’s been passed down through the Winthrope’s family since Queen Victoria reigned. It’s a striking old-world mix of champagne and blue silk. A sleeveless dress with a fitted bodice and floor-length silk. A clasped jewel button holds it together just below my breasts, and ribbons flow from the elbow of the sleeve to the floor.

They pulled off a minor miracle modifying it to fit my modern body.

And I feel like my best self as I carry a heavy bouquet of roses that cascades out of my hands.

“Jesus. They have a chapel in their castle. Now I’ve seen everything,” Dad says, shaking his head.

“It’s a big house, Dad.”

“With a chapel.”

“With a chapel,” I agree.

“Chapel or not, it isn’t close to how pretty you are today, Pippa,” he says, looking me over. “That man ought to get down on his knees and thank God you said yes.”

I smile so wide it hurts.

“We’re both grateful. You look pretty sharp yourself.”

I’ve actually never seen him in a tux before. I can probably count on one hand the few times he ever showed up in a secondhand suit when I was young.

“Yeah, well, if I’m gonna be stuffed into a monkey suit, at least it’s a nice one. Are you ready, though?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

I nod heavily.

“I think so. Are you?”

“No. I never met a man who’s ready to give up his oldest daughter, but hell. He’s a good man, so it could be a lot worse. He’s the kind of fella I always hoped you’d find someday.”

We share a quick hug before we come to a stop in front of the huge door.

Then we share a look, I nod, and he knocks and takes my arm.

The heavy wood arched door with a frosted glass window opens with a soaring swell of music behind it.

Ready or not, here we go.

Suddenly, I’m walking into every girl’s fantasy.

A gorgeous chapel with old dark pews stuffed with people.

Everyone I love raking me with happy looks. Jenn and Maisy both look like they’re about to explode on the spot. Vanessa and AJ wave to us, who I met just yesterday, two more lovely people who’ll always be in our lives.

Marvelous stained glass and blue walls that fade into a darker blue behind the altar. It’s painted with gold stars to mimic the night sky.

But nothing could ever be more beautiful than the god just a few more paces ahead.

Brock turns to look at me from his place at the altar.

My breath drops out of me so fast I don’t know how I’m still moving.

He looks immaculate in a black tux with a silver vest and bow tie.

Maisy’s wrong. He’s not Mr. Darcy.

He’s Prince freaking Winthrope, and soon, he’s all mine.

Dad walks me past a couple empty pews near the front covered in fresh roses.

My eyes flick back at Maisy for a second, and she gives me a teary grin, holding up her phone, diligently filming for my travel channel.

I smile back at her. Winthrope International thought the wedding would be good PR, and so did I, but we didn’t want to turn it into a circus.

Since micro-weddings are all the rage now, I told him I was giving myself the exclusive.

The music swells louder and my entire world condenses into one striking man.

We stop and Dad places my hand in Brock’s.

“She’s yours now. Treat her like gold,” he says.

“I will,” Brock promises, and they embrace quickly.

I can’t believe how everything blurs by in a haze of happy words and quiet vows.

You know how these ceremonies go.

Ours might be a little grander and prettier than most—especially when Takishido the penguin comes waddling up as ring bearer to everyone’s delight. But large exotic birds aside, it’s the same as every happy wedding.

Big promises.

Bigger hearts.

And when the priest gives permission, the biggest toe-curling kiss of my life that makes our first starry kiss in Lanai feel like a chaste peck.

Holy hell, I’m that girl now.

The girl who found herself a man who will always give her everything.

When we finally break away and Brock leads me through the roaring crowd—complete with a honking penguin flapping his flippers—Mrs. Winthrope welcomes us to the terrace. I’m glad to have a minute alone with my new husband.

“Give me more, Mr. Winthrope. Everything you couldn’t in front of the peanut gallery,” I whisper.

Smiling, he brushes his lips to mine.

“Married for three minutes and you’re already high-maintenance,” he growls, digging his teeth into my bottom lip. “Patience, wife. There will be plenty of time for all the volcanic kisses you could ever want tonight.”

He pulls me closer, his strong arm pinning me to his side, and that’s how we walk out to the terrace.

“All joking aside, this is the best day of my life,” I say.

“Mine too.”

We wait for the crowd to stream through the door and find their places around the white tables. It’s a beautiful spring day for a reception.

We have tea and delicious hors d’oeuvres, champagne, and a tower of open-faced sandwiches next to another silver stack of pastries and petit fours. The ornate wedding cake looks like it could feed an army, and on top, there’s a small golden telescope with a sparrow figurine perched on it.

Yeah, I’m in heaven.

Even the usual wedding photos aren’t torture. The Winthropes’ photographer makes things fast and fun.

And before we leave, I toss a bouquet to Jenn, who catches it with a red-faced squeal.

“Not fair. I’m your sister!” Maisy says.

“You’re still seventeen,” I say. “No need to stress Dad out.”

“I agree, Mais, you’ve got at least five years before I let any man steal away my youngest. Deal with it,” Dad says.

“You both suck,” Maisy whines.

“So, where’s the honeymoon again?” Dad asks, sipping a beer he’s had someone sneak into a champagne flute.

“Honeymoon?”

Oops. I hadn’t planned one. I kinda thought we did the honeymoon thing in reverse with the European tour back in autumn.

Brock throws an arm around my waist and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re not the only one who can plan a trip, Sunshine. We’re off to Iceland tomorrow,” he tells my dad. “And if I’m not mistaken, we’ve got a pretty sweet ride waiting.”

A gasp slips out of me.

I can’t even get my questions out as he walks me to the iron gate. The entire wedding party follows behind us. Another housekeeper opens it for us and I’m afraid to believe my eyes.

Two tall white horses stand in front of a sleek black carriage that looks like it just arrived from 1910.

“Oh my God!” I’m so overwhelmed I can’t help it.

Grabbing his head, I pull his face to mine and attack his lips with excited kisses.

Good thing he’s always game to match my intensity, even as I fall down in his arms and he dips me with a low bow, giving every camera in sight a photo finish.

“Get a room!” Maisy yells.

Brock straightens and helps me up with a chuckle.

“Shall we, Mrs. Winthrope?”

“One minute,” I say, turning back to the family gathered closest.

I have to show respect one more time for making this day so incredible. His grandparents take turns hugging me and his parents do the same.

When I spin around again, I meet Brock’s gaze as he holds out a hand.

I smile and nod.

Brock knocks on the side of the carriage and the footman opens the door for us.

“Shall I help you, ma’am?” the footman asks.

Yeah, I think my face is about to get stuck smiling.

Never, in a million years, did I ever dream up a wedding like this.

“I’ll help her up,” Brock says with a jealous growl that makes me laugh. “What?”

“Your possessive streak is kind of cute.”

“Glad you approve. It’s worse now that you’re wearing my ring,” he warns.

A few seconds after I’ve tumbled into the carriage, straightening my dress, there’s a high-pitched noise that startles me.

Yip! Yip!

“What’s that?” I ask.

Before he answers, Andy peeks out of a wicker basket on the floor and comes sliding out in all of his sausage-dog glory. He’s decked out in a big purple bow.

The pup tries to climb my dress and licks my hand before we settle him back on the floor.

“So, um, Iceland?” I say, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m thrilled, but how did you choose that for our honeymoon?”

“It’s a place neither of us have been. We’ll enjoy nature. We’ll eat lots of fish. Plus, I really want to get you naked in the hot springs,” he rumbles in my ear.

God, he’s too good to me, even when he’s burning me down.

He holds me so tight the rest of the way, occasionally stealing a kiss, but after that we don’t really say much.

This day has been too wonderful and my husband is magnificent. I need a moment just to absorb it all.

But the carriage is definitely slower than a car, and wooden wheels on the cobblestone road make for a bumpy ride.

“How much farther?”

“A few more miles.” He chuckles. “Too rough for you?”

I shake my head fiercely.

“No way. I like being Cinderella’d for a day.”

And my face heats when I realize how true that is.

She was a simple girl who married a prince and set her father’s legacy right. I’m a fisherman’s daughter and now I’m hitched to a billionaire after he saved my dad’s life.

Sometimes when fiction comes true it takes your freaking breath away.

Finding Brock Winthrope naked in my shower because someone overbooked his room was more than a coincidence.

It was magic.

It was fate.

It was unbreakable.

“I’m not sure you’re Cinderella,” he says with a wicked grin.

I glance at him, almost offended.

“Why? Because I’m not that nice?”

“Hard to imagine anyone locking you up, woman. To me, you’re more like Belle.”

Wow, nice save.

“You tamed a beast and saved me from myself,” he explains. “You also helped me kick a pompous asshole inside out. I’ll always be grateful.”

I lean up and we fall into another round of sultry kisses.

We don’t stop until the carriage suddenly jerks and nearly throws me off his lap. Thankfully, he catches me just in time.

“What happened?” I ask.

“We’ve arrived. It’s a little abrupt sometimes. Sorry.”

He covers my eyes with his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you enjoy the surprise,” he says.

The door opens and a warm breeze brushes my face.

“Shall I help the lady down?” the footman asks.

“In a minute,” Brock says. He stands us up with his hand still over my eyes. “Be careful. We’re moving toward an open door.” He lets Andy hop out first and guides us down to the carriage door.

“You could just move your hand,” I say.

“Patience.” A firm grip comes around my waist, steadying me.

We stride forward a few paces on the ground before he stops and slowly lowers his hand.

“Okay, you can look.”

It’s like a painting.

We’re nestled in thick trees with a running creek that divides this gorgeous land. On one side, there’s an old English cottage made of huge stones, different hues and earth tones blending together. The architecture is simple, but the door is arched, heavy, and wooden.

“Wow.” Once I’ve caught my breath, I say, “This has been here for a while, hasn’t it?”

“At least a hundred years. Of course, it’s been renovated several times.”

“Awesome vacation spot.”

Brock just smiles.

He stops me as we get to the front door, winding his arms around my waist. “It’s yours now.”

“Mine?” I turn in his arms, wide-eyed and numb.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure how much you like my grandparents’ estate, and I know your family found it overwhelming. They’ll like this place better and we’ll have more privacy whenever we come back here. Just a short hop to everything you could ever want in London. My grandparents were planning to make it a wedding gift, but I told them to put it in your name.”

If it weren’t for Andy rubbing against my legs and wagging his tail, I’d be sure they’re gone. I can’t feel them anymore.

“…holy crap, I’m… I’m sorry I don’t have a wedding gift for you.”

Ugh. Why didn’t I get him something?

“Wrong. You’re the whole package, Sunshine,” he whispers, taking my hand and leading me inside this fantastic place.

I could say the same about him, but I don’t need to.

Not when this man reminds me with every breath how rare, how special, and how loving he’ll always be.

One Week Later

We’re snuggled underneath an electric blanket together on the deck of our dome in rural Iceland. Even for April, it’s nippy at night, but the skies are so beautifully strung with stars I barely care.

My teeth chatter as he pulls me closer.

“Someone’s cold,” he says.

“W-we need an-nother blanket.”

He strokes his hand up and down my arm. “You know we can head inside anytime?”

“No! W-we’re not m-missing this.”

“Sunshine, this isn’t practice for the Antarctic cruise next year. Don’t torture yourself for my sake. The skies are clear enough to see the northern lights inside. There are plenty of windows and I packed my telescope for a reason.”

He’s not wrong. There’s a whole wall of windows and the sky is like glass here.

But he works his way out of the blanket, stands, and tucks it around me tighter before he picks me up. Snuggled in his embrace, we stare at the beautiful scenery and twinkling lights for a few more minutes before my lips are turning blue and begging to be kissed.

This time when he carries me inside, I don’t protest.

I’m beyond giddy as Brock drops me on the bed and cranks up the gas fireplace. He opens the blinds before joining me.

Fully cocooned, I smile as I push my ice-cold feet against his thighs.

His face screws up.

“Brat! You’ll pay for that,” he growls, laughing as he pushes his forehead to mine. “If you’re that cold, I can think of better ways to stay warm.”

“Oh?” I whisper.

With a sharp look, he slips a hand under my shirt, stroking up and down my back. “I can be your furnace and teach you some respect at the same time, Mrs. Winthrope.”

I bite my lip. “I might like that.”

“You definitely will. By the time we’re finished, you’ll need to crawl outside to cool down.”

And his face disappears under the blanket, stamping my skin with fiery kisses, proving his point.

My God, does he prove it.

For hours.

We finish together for the last time with our lips joined, basking in the rare glow of the northern lights streaming in through the window.

“This is the life.” He kisses me tenderly, stroking my face with his thumb.

“No,” I whisper. “This is a fairy tale come true.”

And he kisses away the hot, sweet tear that rolls down my cheek while I vibrate with awe.

Once, I thought my paradise ended after one bossy date that was never meant to be.

But actually, it’s barely begun with this magnificent, grump-tastic, heartstrong man who’ll always be my brightest star.