She takes me a few feet farther and giggles. “Here we are.”
I haven’t peeked but I haven’t closed my eyes all the way yet either.
Once Anna has me at the right location, she jostles me this way and that. My eyes are finally closed so I startle when she fluffs my hair.
“Perfect! Now don’t turn around until I say so.”
Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m about to have a blind date. And meet a stranger in front of a camera. Those girls are going to owe me big time.
“Almost ready!” Anna warns.
I can hear my heart in my ears. If my mouth gets any dryer I’m going to cry. And what is that heat I sense through my dress? Feels like a huge, hot oven is behind me.
“Three. Two… one!” Anna shouts.
Oh.Oh.I’m. Supposed to turn around.
“Turn around you two!”
I don’t move. Can’t.
She giggles as her camera shutter clicks a million times. I’m sweating up a storm now.
“For fuck’s sake,” a deep voice mutters behind me and that rumble unglues my feet. I slowly spin to find myself face to face with the meanest looking man on the face of the earth.
A flush of heat tears across my skin. My vision wavers and my knees turn to rubber. Before I realize what’s happening my mind grays out and the world disappears.
Chapter Three
It’s a good thing I have fast reflexes. Otherwise the fainting beauty would have hit the dirt. But I’ve got her in one arm and the cold beer she was carrying in the other hand.
Ironic.
I’ve had this same combo in my hands a bunch of times. Never as hot as her and never in the freaking broad daylight.
“I’ve got you,” I lift her with one arm and step into the shade.
The photographer is gawking as she mutters, “I’ve never had anyone faint.”
Well technically I’ve had a woman or two pass out on me.
A shit ton of alcohol and a rough fuck with a big ole orgasm or two was involved.
“Let’s get you horizontal,” I mutter, stretching her out on the picnic table. Those golden ringlets splay out. Her dress rides up, showing off bright pink panties with watermelon slices on them.
God.Damn.
My mouth waters until I clear my throat and force myself to look around. Now the parents of all those kids are really gonna be getting an eyeful.
Apparently the photographer is too. She’s snapping away.
“This is the most romantic thing ever!”
She’s out of her fucking mind and lucky I don’t smash that camera into a tree. But all violent urges pass—which might have happened one time when I was seven years old—as the angel on the table flutters open her lashes and looks up at me.
I’ve never had a pair of eyes kick me in the balls before but that’s how this feels.
Shocking. Painful. Totally unexpected.
