The Taming of the Bachelor by Jane Porter Page A

have—
    She paused, listening. Was that a knock at the door?
    She put the plunger down and stepped into the hall, listening again.

    T here it was again.
    Someone was at the door.
    Paige wasn’t wearing her watch, but she knew it was early. Not even eight thirty yet. Hopefully it wasn’t Carol Bingley coming to gloat, or retrieve her plunger.
    Carol Bingley had to be the world’s nosiest neighbor.
    Paige washed her hands and hurried to the door. She glanced out the door’s glass panel and her heart tumbled at the sight of Dillon on her front porch. Tall, broad-shouldered, ridiculously handsome.
    And holding a plunger.
    Great. Just great.
    She opened the door and stepped outside, arms bundled across her chest. “Morning,” she said flatly.
    “Hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.
    “I was up.”
    “How is the toilet?”
    “It’s fine.”
    “You got it working then?”
    “Almost.”
    “So you don’t need a plunger?”
    “No.”
    “You were able to borrow one again from Carol?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
    “Yesterday morning she was telling her friends you’d borrowed hers. Her voice carries. I didn’t like it. So I bought you one of your own, this morning.” He handed the plunger to her. “I can have a look, if you’d like.”
    “Not necessary,” she said crisply, chin high. “I’ll figure it out.”
    “You don’t need to spend the money on a plumber—”
    “Who said I’m calling a plumber?”
    “I’ve fixed countless toilets in my life. I am sure I can fix yours.”
    She closed the door all the way behind her, not wanting their voices to carry. The kids were still sleeping and she wanted to keep it that way. “I appreciate the offer, Dillon, I do, but I don’t want to take advantage of you—”
    “You’re not. I’m offering help.”
    “You’re being kind, thank you,” she said with exaggerated politeness. “But I’ve got pride, and after last night I need to salvage my self-respect—”
    “Because I wouldn’t come in?”
    “I don’t want to talk about it. That was then, this is now—”
    “You’re being ridiculous.”
    It was freezing outside and she wasn’t wearing a coat and her teeth were starting to chatter, but she was also starting to get angry. Who was he to call her ridiculous? “Clearly I drank more than I should have,” she said. “It was a mistake from start to finish. I’d just like to move forward, and I’ll do that better if you just go.”
    He gave her a long, assessing look, his black brows flat, his golden eyes narrowed. “I didn’t reject you last night, Paige. That’s not what was happening.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It does.”
    “Maybe it’d matter if you were staying in Marietta and we’d have to see each other around town, but you’re not staying, and you’re not planning on returning often, so I think we can safely agree to disagree and pretend last night didn’t happen.”
    He said nothing for a moment, simply stared at her as if she was a hysterical female, someone of questionable mental health, and she didn’t like it at all.
    He was the problem, not her.
    “Goodbye,” she said crisply, standing tall.
    “That’s it? That’s how this ends?”
    “No. It ended last night. Remember?”
    “You’re making something personal—”
    “It was personal. It was you, and me, but I don’t want to get into it today. I spent the night thinking about it, trying to understand what I did, or said, that turned you off, and I’m tired of analyzing, tired of worrying. Please just go.” She smiled tightly. “Safe travels, best of luck with Tutro, hope it all works out for you.” And then she was gone, disappearing into the house and closing the door firmly behind her.

    D illon stared at the dark green door with the beveled glass panels in disbelief. That’s it? That’s how this was going to end?
    Impossible.
    It didn’t make sense. She didn’t make sense. She was acting like a little girl. A