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“No idea why,” I answer wryly.

“You still haven’t actually answered me.”

“Sounds like I don’t have much choice.”

His lips curl. “Well, you can always object.”

“Something tells me I’d be overruled.”

He pulls me close, the folder flattening between us and his lips hovering over mine. “Absolutely, Ms. Pierce.”

I can feel my own mouth curving, the smile forming there so big it almost hurts, my eyes watering as my chest swells.

“Well?” His lips brush against mine in a barely there kiss. “What do you say?”

I wrap one arm around his neck. “I’m sure I can pencil you in.”

“I would expect nothing less, Sour Patch.”

I slant my mouth against his, laughing. “That’s going to be Mrs. Sour Patch to you.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Dani,” he hums against my lips. “As long as I can call you mine.”

And as it turns out, I’m absolutely fine with that agreement. No one is more surprised than me by that realization.

Fucking Ezra Hart.

I never even stood a chance.