He walked to the bath chamber doorway and knocked impatiently. "Snowball, are you done washing?"
What he got wasn't Snowball's answer, but Sophie Sullivan opening the door with an ugly facial color. She cracked it open just a slit and stared at him coldly. "Who told you to come in?"
Being questioned like that, the fire in Thomas Shannon's heart shot up in an instant. "Are you kidding me? This is my daughter's bedroom. I still need your permission to come in?"
"First of all, this is a girl's bedroom. You're a tough man coming in—can you just stroll in whenever you feel like it?"
Thomas Shannon let out a snort, his cold eyes full of disdain. "Lady, friendly reminder: the 'girl' you're talking about, my daughter, is only three years old right now. Grown boys avoiding mothers and grown girls avoiding fathers, sure, but the prerequisite is that Snowball has already turned seven!"
