Porter shrugged.‘Reasonable.Boring, but reasonable.Next…’
RULE #8: No one who’s married to his job.
Porter snorted, scribbling out his response:
So, you’re out too, then?
‘Next!’
Rule #9: Must be responsible & clean: if his shirt looks like he’s slept in it, automatic disqualification.
Porter glanced down at his wrinkled uniform, dust-covered from helping an elderly couple dig out their bogged ute.He wiped at it half-heartedly.‘Guess I’m out twice then.’
Rule #10: No one who thinks love is just an option: it’s all in, or not at all.
Porter tapped the pen against the paper.‘Didn’t she already say this?Not only picky but repetitive.Another classic princess move.’
Scoffing, he leaned back against the counter, beer in one hand, pen in the other—then grinned.
And the grin just got bigger.
Again, he peered around the kitchen, checking the closed hallway door.
He took another sip of his beer.
Clicked his pen.
Then paused.
She might not find it funny.
Amara was already struggling with Stone’s jabs—and Stone’s sense of humour was damn near identical to his.
Still…
He smirked to himself.
Maybe this would help her loosen up.Or at the very least, earn him an eye roll strong enough to crack the floor tiles.
What was the harm, yeah?
He leaned over the counter, and started adding his own items:
Must love crime reports and cold pizza.
Must accept that the dog rides shotgun.
Passenger princess(es) must open and close all gates.(Excluding said dog.)
Must not freak out if I show up covered in cattle muck and fish guts from a boys’ hunting weekend filled with a story or two to share.
Satisfied, he held it up like it was state evidence.
Maybe he should slip it in his back pocket for later, in case she got annoying.
No, it needed to be seen.
So he straightened the list and pinned it dead centre on the fridge.
