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I’m such a sucker for a badass with dimples. The juxtaposition gets me every time. “I’ll get over it.” I wrinkle my nose, but this time I’m powerless to stop myself from returning his half-smile. This guy has fun distraction written all over him. “Maybe.”
Just when the loaded silence is getting interesting, his cell shouts from his pocket. “SHOP CALLING. SHOP CALLING. PICK UP, YOU CUN––”
It’s out of his pocket and cut off before the automated ringtone finishes its eye-opening term of endearment.
“I think you’re lying.” He holds my stare and shoves the cell back into his pocket without checking the screen. “Everybody loves a bad boy.”
Usually winks bother me. His does not.
“I said bad manners.” With a smirk on my face and some excited flipping going on in my tummy, I watch him turn and stride easily down the two steps that lead to the beach.
Everything south of my bellybutton gives a standing ovation at the sight of his tight ass and the Japanese sun tattooed on the back of his calf.
“I’ll catch you around, neighbor.” He calls over his shoulder without looking back.
Things just got a hell-of-a lot more interesting.
