The Man I Absolutely Did Not Want to Marry

In Which I Meet the Most Annoying Man Alive

There are three things I know for certain.

One: coffee should never be consumed before eight in the morning.

Two: men who wear expensive watches are generally compensating for something.

Three: if a handsome stranger tells you that you look lovely while you are covered in tomato sauce, he is either flirting with you or clinically insane.

I was about to discover which.

It was Tuesday morning.

Tuesday mornings were already offensive enough without adding handsome strangers.

I was twenty-nine, late for work, under-caffeinated, wearing one black heel and one navy heel because apparently my brain had resigned sometime around 7:14 a.m., and I was carrying a takeaway coffee that had betrayed me.

The coffee was currently soaking through my blouse.

The tomato sauce was on my skirt.

And the handsome stranger was staring at me.

Not subtly, either.

He looked me up and down.

Then he smiled.

"You seem to be having a difficult morning."

I looked down at myself.

One shoe.

Coffee stains.

Tomato sauce.

Hair that had apparently decided to become its own independent country.

"I am having a fantastic morning."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"You have coffee on your shirt."

"I know."

"Tomato sauce on your skirt."

"I know."

"You're wearing two different shoes."

I looked down.

I closed my eyes.

I inhaled.

"That," I said carefully, "is a fashion choice."

His mouth twitched.

"You've certainly committed to it."

I hated him immediately.

He was tall.

Annoyingly tall.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Expensive charcoal suit. Perfect jaw.

The kind of man who probably had a personal tailor and didn't know what instant noodles tasted like.

The kind of man who had never once had to choose between paying rent and ordering pizza.

"Do you always stare at women when they're having a crisis?" I asked.

"Only when the crisis is entertaining."

I stared at him.

He smiled.

I hated that smile too.

"You're incredibly irritating."

"I've been told."

"Frequently?"

"By women."

"Shocking."

His smile widened.

I pointed at him.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look pleased with yourself."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I assure you—"

"You have a smug face."

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

And unfortunately, it was a very nice laugh.

Which was irritating.

Everything about him was irritating.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Why?"

"So I can remember it."

"You won't need to."

"I probably will."

"No, you won't."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

He stepped closer.

I should have stepped back.

I didn't.

His cologne reached me.

Something expensive.

Something unfairly attractive.

"Then I'll just have to make sure I see you again."

My stomach did something embarrassing.

I ignored it.

"Good luck with that."

I walked away.

Or, more accurately, I limped away because one of my shoes was a size six and the other was a size seven.

I made it approximately twelve steps before my phone rang.

I answered without looking.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

My best friend, Sophie.

"On my way to work."

"You sound out of breath."

"I've had an incident."

"What kind?"

"Man."

There was silence.

Then—

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Was he hot?"

I glanced over my shoulder.

The man was still standing there.

Watching me.

"Unfortunately."

Sophie gasped.

"Tell me everything."

"Later."

"Did you get his number?"

"No."

"Did he get yours?"

"No."

"Did you kiss?"

"Sophie!"

"What? I'm asking."

"I spilled coffee on myself."

"That's not a no."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

I hung up.

Then I walked directly into a glass door.

The handsome stranger watched the entire thing.

He was laughing.

I pointed at him through the glass.

"Not. A. Word."

He lifted both hands innocently.

I walked away.

Again.

This time without looking back.

Which was why I didn't see him smile.

Or hear him say—

"I'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

I stopped.

Slowly turned around.

He was still standing there.

"How do you know my name?"

He tapped the coffee cup I'd left behind.

My name was written on it.

I looked at the cup.

Then at him.

Then back at the cup.

"Oh."

His grin returned.

"See you tomorrow."

"I sincerely hope not."

He laughed.

And for reasons I would later blame entirely on caffeine deficiency, I smiled.

Just a little.

That was my first mistake.

I would make considerably worse ones later.

Especially the one involving a wedding dress.

And the man I absolutely did not want to marry.