Gemma
The day from Hellwas finally over.
Parking in my driveway, I hauled my ass out of the car, groaning as I placed both hands on my lower back. It ached from standing for ten hours straight, and I’d just barely been able to keep my job.
Earlier, the floor had dropped out from beneath me when I saw a text from Benny telling me that if I wasn’t there in the next thirty minutes, I could clean out my locker. A gap in employment would kill me right now.
My nose wrinkled at the stench clinging to my clothing after I’d been on my knees scrubbing the urinals after closing. I gave it a week before the scent seeped into the fibers of my driver’s seat and I had a permanent reminder of the ridiculousness of this day.
Reaching for my keys, I dug through my purse as I approached the three steps to my front porch.
Closing my fingers around the jagged metal, I lifted my head and let out a blood-curdling scream.
It was well past midnight, and there was a man sitting on my porch, hidden in the shadows where the lightbulb had burned out beside the door.
Scrambling back toward my car—silently cursing myself for not going right out and replacing the gun now held in police custody—I peeked over my shoulder as long legs unfolded and whoever was lurking stood.
Jesus, he was big. I wouldn’t stand a chance if he wanted to violate me.
“Sorry, Kitten. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Kitten? Why does that sound so familiar?
Wait a minute . . .
Heart racing, I paused my panic to turn and take a closer look. The man stepped into the light from my neighbor’s porch, and too-long blond hair came into view. It was the fucking guy from earlier at the DMV.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath. My keys jangled as I folded both arms over my chest. “Are you stalking me now? Haven’t you done enough for one day? I almost lost my job because of you.”
He tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Shit, babe. I’m sorry.”
What is wrong with this guy? First Kitten, and now babe?
I blew out a breath. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but I thought I made it clear earlier when you asked me out.” I clapped my hands to punctuate each word. “Not. Interested.”
Okay, that was only partly true. There was a small piece of me that had been initially intrigued by his good looks and tall, muscular body, but then he’d gone and ruined it by being an entitled prick when he cut the line and put my job in jeopardy.
Flashing me a smirk that I was about ten seconds away from slapping off his too-handsome face, he replied, “You were right earlier.”
“What?”
He was either brave or stupid for venturing closer until only a foot of space separated us. “I had no right to jump in front of you today. You were totally justified in your reaction.”
Well, this was new: a man admitting he was wrong. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Um, thanks?”
A mischievous gleam entered those brilliant blue eyes. “But I can’t say I’m sorry it happened.”
My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. “Excuse me? You enjoyed that I lost my shit and screamed at you in a room full of strangers?”
“Come on, Gemma.”
Wait. How does he know my name?
“Just think of how much fun we’ll have sharing our unique meet-cute story with our kids someday.”
Meet-cute? Kids? What the fuck was he talking about?
