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I said Sparrow was my fiancee to protect her, but I plan to make our engagement real.
Vale Diaz
The pretty, young thing pouring my whiskey today is new around here. One look and immediately I'm a man obsessed. But Sparrow doesn't need a grumpy, ex-Marine hovering over her.
The corps left me with too many scars; both the kind that show and the kind that don't, for me to think this ray of sunshine would have anything to do with the likes of me.
Until some pencil-neck weasel comes into the bar one night while I'm nursing a drink I only ordered so I could see Sparrow.
He wants her back; orders her to walk off her job and come home with him this instant.
That's when I stand up, using all six foot, five inches of my wide frame to tell the nitwit to leave my fiancée alone.
Now Sparrow's stuck with me, pretending I'm the love of her life while we wait for her ex to give up and leave town without her.
But when our little charade crosses the line, I only have one chance to convince her that I'm not pretending.
