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Connor O’Doyle is one of those guys you see and can’t help but imagine beautiful babies with him, along with an oceanfront wedding and a mortgage. I do almost every day until he opens his mouth, and then my pretty fantasy home becomes an imaginary jail for imaginary manslaughter.
Why are all the hot guys dicks? I look down at my hand, realizing my palm is biting into the metal of a whisk. Of course I had to grab a whisk and not a knife. I would’ve even been happy with a fork so I could poke out one of his pretty blue eyes.
“Whatever, see you next Tuesday, crazy woman,”
Omg did he call her a cunt ?--he did Infact call her that past me 😂
“Calmeth thy titties,” I say with a snort, laughing at my own joke.
she looks at me as if I’ve stolen her favorite vibrator from her and broken it.
“You turned wolfsbane into Viagra,” Connor gripes, and my eyes turn to saucers.
“His name is Roofus.” Her soft, cultured tone rings out in the parlor room, the sound fake to my ears. “Rhymes with Doofus.”
“No, I was just about to come find you when I got your—damn. Howl you doin’?”
Chased in the woods by the Big Bad Wolf. What a lucky girl am I?!
