Page 14 of The Family Man

I walk up the stairs and pound on the door.

The door opens and there he stands in all his freaking GQ glory.

He covers his nose and looks down on me. My anger is peak. “What happened?”

“YOUR DOG HAPPENED? I AM COVERED IN SHIT,” I scream, I don’t care who hears me. How tall is he?

“Oh, shit!” a man says in the room behind him.

I see no one else but him. Yesterday, I didn’t get to examine him but today. Under different circumstances I may have blushed at him.

Oh snap! He didn’t look like this yesterday I would have remembered. Today he looks so fuckable. I swallow and try to maintain my anger. If this was a different time, I would like his well-groomed black beard, and neat high fade with a side part and cute comb over. The black diamonds in his ears shouldn’t make my tummy tighten.

The way he pushes up the sleeves of his Henley shirt up. White looks nice on him. Oh damn he has tattoo sleeves. I don’t even like men with tattoos. God, he is tall. How tall is he? 6’5.

He smells so good, he smells clean and expensive. Not like me who smells like dog poop. Focus on the poop girl.

“I will take care of it in the next hour or two. Tell me the price of the shoes, and I will get it back to you. Relax,” he utters.

“Relax? You want me to relax?” Unfortunately, I fling my hands down in frustration then I see it, the pieces of poop flying off.

I gawp at my neighbor and watch as his dog’s poop lands on his white Henley and part of his beard.

“Oh, shit,” Anise says behind me.

“No really. Oh, shit.” Then the giggling starts.

I peek up at him. I think I may have pushed him too far.

“I am sorry.” I reach forward and pull the poop from his beard.

He is stuck in the same position. I presume he wants to kill me now.

I see a movement behind his leg and it’s a cute little girl. She is giggling. “Zac is a poopoo head.”

She’s adorable. I fold my lips to hold in my laugh. I hear another cute laughter behind him. I spot a sweet little boy standing on a high bar stool.

The most incredible thing happened. His flat, mean expression turns into a huge, beautiful smile.

“You guys find that funny?” he asks the little girl.

Her cute face shows two dimples at the side of her cheeks. She covers her mouth giggling in her hand. “I guess I am a poopoo head, princess.” He looks at her with a sparkle in his eye.

“I am so sorry.” I say, my anger has left me; I am now just standing on my neighbor’s porch with crusty poop on me.

“It’s nothing. I owe you one. Thank you,” he says. He is a psycho. I just threw dog poop on him, and he is happy.

I glance back at my sisters. I guess church is cancelled.

“I will be over to your home to clean it. I am sorry,” he says like I wasn’t a mad, crazy woman standing on his porch yelling.

Cue my guilt. “No, it’s okay. I will —”

“Nah, I will fix it. My dog is in the back/ I let her go last evening. This is technically my fault. I will get it cleaned up for you.”

How do I respond to that? Checkmate on me. All I can do is stare. He’s gorgeous.

“Um, okay, thanks.” I turn, and I limp back down the stairs, shoulders thrown back as I pass my sisters. I hear them saying hi to Zac.

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