NovelEnglish"Since you have commanded it..."
"Go back a sentence."
The manager said, "Room 1901 is checking out?"
York was like, "She checked out?! When?!"
"Just about ten minutes ago."
"Damn it-"
The manager was confused.
York: "Send those women away! They're getting on my nerves-"
Manager: "...That's not what you said when you called earlier."
On one end, life was a rollercoaster of thrills and heart-pounding excitement.
And for Roseanne, it was the sold routine.
Waking up naturally at seven.
Making breakfast, then heading out to the farmers’ market.
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Returning hat nine, she had barely stepped in when she heard Norris' amazement: "...I never would have
guessed that apart from your scientific endeavors, you also have a green thumb!" Pausing while taking off her
shoes, two seconds later, a familiar voice cfrom the balcony: "Oh, Mr. Cole, you flatter me."
Owen.
Roseanne placed the groceries in the kitchen, poured two cups of freshly brewed pear cider, and walked out to
the balcony.
There, Norris and Owen were sitting on garden stools, their backs to the balcony door, with seven or eight pots
laid out in front of them. The soil was dug up, with the plants piled to the side. "Dad, Mr. Reynolds, here's some
pear cider."
"Anne, you're back? | thought I'd take advantage of my free day to repot these for you; sof the roots were
rotting."
As he reached out for the cup, he noticed his hands were muddy, "Hold on, letwash up first."
"Sure."
Owen, on the other hand, had been smarter- He was wearing disposable gloves.
He took them off and reached for his cup: "Thanks."
Roseanne: "When did you arrive, Mr. Reynolds?"
"About a half-hour ago."
"Aren't you supposed to be at the lab today?"
Owen: "I'll head there this afternoon."
"So, how did you end up..." at my place?
Before Roseanne could finish, Owen smiled: "I was jogging hand ran into Mr. Cole taking out the trash."
Norris couldn't sit still at that point.
Knowing Qwen had the morning free and wouldn't head to the lab until the afternoon, he immediately invited
him over.
Owen quickly showered, changed, and cover.
"About last time..." Roseanne bit her lip slightly, her expression awkward, "I was out of line, sorry."
"Last time? Which time?" The man raised an eyebrow.
Roseanne looked at him, unsure if he genuinely couldn't remember or was just teasing.
"The time... you cover for dinner, and | had a bit too much to drink, then..."
Owen smirked: "Then what happened?"
"I think | got drunk, | don't quite remember clearly..." if | did anything outrageous or offended you!
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Seeing her embarrassed, Owen couldn't help but let it slide: "It was fine."
He paused, then added: "No big deal."
Except for the part where you insisted on tapping my head, ended up wrinkling my shirt, and messing up my
hair, but no, nothing much.
Hearing this, Roseanne breathed a sigh of relief.
"Just... next time, don't grab a man's collar and ask him if he's okay with it."
Roseanne: "I"
Upon hearing this, her memory flooded back.
"Lettap your head! You tapped mine, why can't | tap yours?"
The man helplessly dodged left and right.
But she caught his collar, pulling hard; they were inches from each other's faces.
Owen's breath hitched, and drunk
as
she was oblivious, her
on tapping his head as a form of retaliation.
"Con, just one tap... are you okay with that? Speak up, are you okay or not?!"
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