“Need help with your bags?” “Oh, no. I can get it,” I say, my eye going back to him. Oh shit. Here I am fawning over a cute dog when his owner is even cuter. He slips his aviators off, tucking them into the top of his t-shirt, and I get the full effect of those dark eyes and cheekbones for days. He’s got a day or two of stubble along his jaw, and the sexiest bow pout to his lips. “I—” Girl, get yourself together. I snap my mouth shut. Shit, when did it open? “I’m fine,” I repeat. “Let me just…” I don’t even bother finishing the sentence. I just duck my head in shame and move around the back of
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