at the same time the delicate line of her jaw hardened. “I’m twenty-six years old. I do not need my father’s permission.”
But he did. If he pissed off her family, he could lose Cal’s help, and work on his house would grind to a halt. Things were getting off track, and he’d just started working on his house. “We’ll try one morning, then.”
“And go from there.”
Adam backed up fast when Sylvie jumped up from her chair, looking grateful enough to give him a hug. Not going to happen.
“I’m not making any promises. Just so you know.” He rushed the door and escaped outside.
Teach her how to cook. He shook his head and headed toward his house. Most people when they met him kept their distance because of his size and because he looked like a scrapper. But for some reason Sylvie seemed to have locked right into the fact that he was a pushover. He didn’t want people to be afraid of him, but neither did he want it getting around that he was an easy mark. Saying no to anyone had never been his strong suit—another reason to stay away from Sylvie. Half an hour, and she’d convinced him to teach her how to cook. What next?
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