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I was fairly sure he’d gotten her number, too.
I rolled my eyes, contemplating calling for an Uber to take me home.
In fact, I looked over my shoulder to see how far away the exit was when I saw him walking down the steps toward me.
Our eyes met and held, even from the long distance that separated us, and I felt my heart start to beat in my chest like a roaring freight train barreling down at a railroad crossing.
I licked my lips and looked away, but it didn’t matter. I was more than aware of him.
I just knew that he was heading toward the seats that were next to me, too.
Sure, there were other seats spaced out around me. One here. One there.
But there weren’t two together, and in the brief glance that I’d taken of the man, he had someone in front of him.
That meant they would need two.
Two.
The only two seats that were together side by side were the ones right next to me.
Son of a biscuit eater.
I really, really didn’t do well with attractive men.
So much so, in fact, that I sometimes found it hard to breathe, let alone speak.
Honestly, that was probably why I had such a hard time dating.
If the man was attractive, then I was either a clammed-up shell of a person, or a chatty Cathy that said the stupidest things.
“Excuse me,” a female’s voice said, finally making me look up. “Excuse me.”
The woman that was coming down the length of the aisle was gorgeous.
She had long, reddish-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and beautiful pale skin that looked like she would burn in seconds.
But just as fast as I looked at her, I looked away.
Because the male coming our way had stolen my attention.
I swallowed hard.
Oh, God.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
He. Was. So. Fucking. Hot.
And he…fuck me sideways, he was going to have to sit right next to me.
I swallowed hard and allowed my gaze to linger on the man’s thighs.
They were encased in a pair of navy-blue golf shorts—and the only reason I knew they were golf shorts was because I’d bought my dad the same pair for Father’s Day last year.
The man’s thighs were thick and filled out the fabric of the shorts well.
My eyes drug over the length of his lower body, skimming over the package at the apex of his thighs, and focusing on the man’s defined calves.
