“This isn’t really my kind of thing,” he confesses.
“So why are you here?” I ask innocently.
He shrugs one shoulder, forcing my eyes down to admire just how well his shirt fits his muscular body.
He’s lost his jacket since we collided by the bathrooms, and he only looks hotter because of it.
The soft fabric of his shirt wraps around his solid upper arms, shoulders, and chest like it’s a second skin.
Without thinking, my teeth sink into my bottom lip as I continue to let my eyes wander, imagining just what it might be like to unwrap that shirt from his body. Quickly followed by his slacks…
“It’s a good cause,” he finally says, dragging my eyes up to his.
Despite the mask that covers half of his face, I see something in his expression that has never been there before.
Intrigue.
Heat blooms between my thighs at the thought of him wanting me.
Is this actually going to work?
Am I going to manage to flirt my way to ticking off the very top item on my bucket list?
“That it is,” I agree. “So, what do you do when you’re not enjoying one of these wonderful events?”
He shakes his head, a grin still on his lips.
“How about we keep the serious stuff out of the conversationtonight?”
“That sounds like my ideal kind of night. So, stranger, tell me something...unimportantabout yourself.”
“Uh…” He pauses for a beat as servers begin to place entrees on our table. “I have a scar here,” he finally says, tapping on the side of his mask, letting me know it’s hidden beneath.
“Yeah?” I’m beyond curious as I reach for my knife and fork.
“From an ex. Threw her shoe at me when I told her we were done.”
“What?” I blurt, almost choking on the Parma ham and goat cheese tartlet I’d taken a bite of.
Kodie shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“And don’t tell me…you picked her up at an event like this. That would explain why you hate them. You think all the women here are crazy.”
He laughs.
“No, she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d be here tonight. Too...”
“Hot-headed?” I offer.
“Something like that,” he agrees as he cuts the corner of his tartlet off and pushes it past his full, kissable lips.
My tongue sneaks out to lick a crumb from my mouth—or at least, that’s what I hope he thinks I’m doing as I watch him chew.
“So, what about you?”
“What about me?” I echo. “A woman has never thrown a shoe at my head.”
“What crazy shit has a man done when you’ve broken his heart?”
