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But then… Sarah.
Beautiful. Alluring. Bloody distracting. Sarah…
She’d crashed into his life. Literally. Royally screwed him over with her long-winded conversation about screwball teenage boys and Shakespearean plays. She’d made him forget who he was. Where he was. A miracle, since nothing and nobody let him forget he was a dirtbag lowlife with a dubious job and an ugly past, his future even less promising.
I’m a dead man walking.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He kicked the dry gravel, the night spring air licking at his rage.
Not only had he blanked on why he’d come to the soiree in the first place, he’d gone so far as to tell the woman his hometown and which state he lived in.
Fuck!
He should have known the second he saw her. He should have stuck to just making to leave. And she had tried to leave. Why had he called her back? Why? And why, of all dumb-ass things to do, had he kissed her?
“Ahh… are you okay?”
He spun around at the steady female voice, his blood seeming to pause in his veins because Sarah stood about five paces away, her arms crossed, and a pissed frown dragging at her perfect features.
