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W ith the bed of his rented truck fully laden again with supplies, Nico pulled up to the house and shut off the engine.

He’d thought about calling ahead, but he had the sense that Ginny was the spontaneous type.

He’d have more luck showing up with something tangible and irresistible to her than he would by offering her a hypothetical.

Stepping from the truck, he noticed a distinct lack of barking.

The dogs must be hanging out with her inside.

She really did love those orphaned mutts, and he couldn’t help liking her a little bit for that.

There was, he’d found, a distinct difference between cat-owning women and dog-owning women, both in the type of attention they expected from a partner and in their general physical activity level.

His brother had married a cat woman. They had three felines in addition to their two children.

Sarah was a lovely, lovely person and a wonderful mother, but if Nico were to marry, which of course he would not, it would be to an easier-going, and livelier, dog woman.

The sun was so low, the little house’s shadow crept into the street, but that was fine with Nico. The impending darkness was key to executing his plan. As quietly as he could, he began setting up for the evening—blankets, pillows, dog beds, snacks, twinkle lights, a rug…

When all was ready, he couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork, but the longer he admired it, the warmer his cheeks grew.

Creating a set-up this romantic was kind of embarrassing.

Honestly, as a determined bachelor, he hadn’t known he had this in him.

But this was business, he reminded himself.

He was romancing his bank account, not Ginny Heppner.

Feeling safer, he started toward the front steps.

He intended to hop up and ring the doorbell but caught himself just in time.

No touching the house! Standing on the front walk and feeling like a supplicant, he dialed her number instead.

After two rings, the call ended, but four faces appeared at the front window.

At first, the quartet wore matching confused expressions.

Then, one of them morphed into an angry frown.

Perhaps he should have called ahead after all?

In the next second, Ginny slammed open the front door and stomped onto the porch, closing the dogs inside behind her.

Her small hands were balled into fists, and her eyes blazed green fire.

The fury twisting her delicate features hit Nico which such force, he took a step back.

Even at their first unfortunate meeting, she hadn’t been this angry. What was going on?

Her outfit no doubt contributed to his shock.

Her stained gray sweatpants weren’t just cut off around knee height, the cuts looked burnt at the edges and one leg was several inches shorter than the other.

Her bright purple sweater, which sported some type of cat (unicorn?

chicken?) motif, looked as if it had been home to many generations of well-fed closet moths.

There was more hole than sweater (hence the confusion over cat versus unicorn versus chicken).

Massive runs beneath each hole gave the hem of the sweater the look of a draped theatre curtain.

Thankfully, she appeared to have some type of tight black t-shirt under the sweater, but still—did she dumpster dive, or was she the person dumpsters were invented for?

She allowed him no time to consider that question.

“Why are you back?” she spat. Her eyes flicked angrily toward the street. “And why did you dump all that crap on my lawn?”

Nico needed a second before he could form word type things. “I…I…” he looked back at the adorable little outdoor movie theater he’d created, complete with a rented projector and screen. “We talked about watching a movie. I’ve got fresh popcorn and?—”

She bumped his elbow with what felt like intentional force as she marched past him on the narrow front walk, headed toward the lawn. “ You talked about watching a movie.”

“No, I…I mean, yes, I guess so, but…” He was jabbering to her back. His tone turned plaintive. “It’s the movie Up.”

“Up, huh? I can do up.” With a grunt, she hefted a cushion nearly as large as herself and heaved it roughly back into the bed of the pickup.

Turning back to face him, she swipe-clapped her hands in an ‘all finished’ motion.

“There, it’s up. Now watch me up this chair.

” She grabbed one of the two metal folding chairs and swung it in a wide arc into the truck’s bed.

She hadn’t even folded it first, and he heard a crack as it landed.

“Stop!” he heard himself say, but the gallons of buttery popcorn that rained down into his truck bed next suggested stopping wasn’t likely.

The giant metal bowl hit the inside of the truck bed with a clang.

The aggressiveness of her response at what he’d been certain was a kind gesture sent him into a bit of an out-of-body experience, like someone helplessly watching a string of cars collide.

The ringing of the bowl broke his stupor. He began striding toward her.

Meanwhile, the twinkle lights were her next victim. Like a tiny Godzilla attacking Tokyo, she began ripping them off the dozen or so poles he’d set up around their outdoor theater. Their cheery glow winked out as she stomped them into the lawn.

Grabbing the next pole in the line, he forced her to pause.

Her voice was a snarl. “Out of my way.”

“But women love twinkle lights!” The moment he’d said it, he cringed both inwardly and outwardly. Women did love twinkle lights, but they didn’t like being talked about in the plural. “I mean, I thought you’d like them.”

A smile of evil delight curled her lips. “Right. Because I’m some generic, sappy woman you can wine and dine and push around? You think it’s going to be that easy to steal my house from me?”

He blinked in shock at the unfairness of this attack.

She wasn’t completely wrong, but she was also completely out of line.

Whatever happened, he was most certainly not the thief in this situation.

He needed desperately to smooth this over, but how does one smooth things over with a raging insane person?

“Ginny, please. We didn’t even talk about the house. ”

He’d forced his tone into a calming whisper, but it only seemed to trigger her more.

She pointed a finger at his face. “First, don’t you dare Ginny me.

Second, that’s right—we only talked about me .

You plied me for all kinds of information—my family, my college days, my insecurities!

Were you looking for a soft spot? Well, you didn’t find one, because I don’t have any. ”

He let go of the pole as he raised his palms in surrender. “We were just getting to know each other, remember? That was the whole point. I thought we had a nice time.”

“Then why didn’t I learn one iota about you?”

“Because…” he thought back to that night. “…because you were tired. You were yawning. I suggested we call it a night, and you agreed.”

She plastered an exaggerated, sympathetic pout onto her face. “Oh, poor you. That must have been so hard considering how much you love talking about yourself and your real estate.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Actually, I’m not much of a sharer, especially about my work.”

“That’s not what Monique says. Seems you’ve got a reputation at the office for how much you love to talk about your work.”

“I do not.”

“Oh, but you do. Apparently, you can talk the paint off,” she used her hands to make air quotes, “the Golden Gate Bridge.”

A jolt of annoyance shot through Nico. The sister thing again. He really could do without this complication. “Monique is supposed to be staying out of this,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s fully on your side.

She just found it hilarious that someone like you would spend an evening with someone like me.

” She picked up the second folding chair, but this time at least folded it absently as she raged.

“And I have to agree. The only reason someone like you, who looks like you do, would expend any energy at all on someone like me is because I have something you want. So, let’s cut the cheap charade.

You’re trying to charm me into giving up this house, and it’s not happening. Ever.”

“I didn’t try to fool you. I meant it when I said that evening was about business.”

She swept an arm over the outdoor theatre he’d set up. “And this is about business too? Tell me, was Twinkle Light Draping for Fun and Profit offered in the first year of your Harvard MBA or your second?”

She had him there. This did look like he was trying to charm her.

His brother had suggested he start dating her, and Nico had insisted he would never do that, but had he been attempting it anyway?

He’d taken a lot of time picking out these supplies, and he’d had fun doing it—almost as if he’d been looking forward to the evening.

But that…wasn’t possible. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

He rubbed his face roughly with both hands, trying to cover the pink.

Whatever he’d been doing, it was backfiring badly. He had to fix this. “Okay, okay. I went too far with the twinkle lights and the movie. Forget the movie. But can’t we just…talk some more?”

“No,” she said firmly as she scooped up an armload of toss pillows from the carpet and headed toward the truck with them, her purple sweater swinging wide like a ballroom dance skirt.

Perhaps she needed to hear personal information about him? He cleared his throat. “I have a brother, and I live in San Francisco. My brother has a wife and two young boys. They’re off on a fishing vacation right now in Colorado. Personally, I don’t like fishing.”