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I reached for my iced coffee and looked up to see that a woman had just come in. She was wearing a pair of overalls and leaning over the counter, laughing.
Long, dark waves ran down her back, and she wiggled her cute ass as she spoke.
My dick jumped to attention.
Damn. It had been a while since I’d been laid.
I didn’t trust many people right now, as everyone wanted to know what I was going to do. And there were people willing to pay someone to weasel their way in and find out. So, I was keeping to myself.
I continued watching her until she stood all the way up, and I wondered how the fuck someone managed to make a pair of baggy denim overalls look sexy as hell.
She turned slowly—almost like she felt me staring at her.
When my gaze locked with dark brown eyes, the familiarity had me dropping my sandwich.
I’d seen this woman before.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
This was the woman who’d followed me into the bathroom a few weeks back. I’d been trying to have a private conversation with my mother.
An important fucking conversation.
Just one damn minute to myself.
It didn’t seem like a lot to ask for.
These people had no regard for privacy.
No human decency.
Her jaw fell open, and she glared at me. But I didn’t give her the chance to speak. I was on my feet and moving toward her.
“Do I need a restraining order? Did you follow me here?” I hissed, using my height to my advantage as I was a good foot taller than her.
She stormed toward me. “You arrogant, pretentious, narcissistic—”
“Is there an ending to your rant?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
She had some sort of pink scarf thing tied at the top of her head.
Her tan face was free of makeup, and the woman was flawless.
Stunning.
Yet here she was, once again, invading my space.
I’d had her removed from the press conference after she’d crossed the line, and she’d stayed away ever since then. I’d hoped she’d gotten the message.
“For your information, I live here,” she said, flailing her arms.
“Is that your story?”
She just stared at me and started backing away as if she couldn’t stand the sight of me.
The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.
She may be hot as hell, but she was just another bloodsucking reporter out to make a buck at my expense.
