“Kayce isn’t here. Try one of the bars in town.” With that, he stomps past me up the steps and kicks off his boots at the door. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. A snowflake lands on the back of my hand, and that cold kiss against my skin seems to galvanize me into action. “Whatever,” I mutter and turn back for my car. My teeth are gritted so tight there’s every chance I’m going to crack a molar, and I yank the door open with far more force than necessary. The giant dickhead watches me from just outside his front door, as if he’s standing guard to make sure I leave his property. Gladly.
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