His blue eyes shine in the sun, and he slips his hat off his head, tossing it in the seat beside him. “See you tomorrow.” “Two o’clock sharp.” He grins, shifts into drive, and says, “I’ll be here” and then he takes off. It’s after he’s gone and I’m digging my keys from my bag that I realize what he said. Here. Tomorrow at two o’clock sharp, Tobias Cruz will be here. My stomach flips and I have a feeling it’s not only nerves. Not good.
