When the driver hops out, I check the rearview and am momentarily zapped by the sight that greets me—messy two-toned spiked blond hair and sun-tinted skin despite the season. He’s dressed in nothing but dark jeans and a grey thermal that accentuates his insane build. There’s something inherently sexy about his grease-stained tan boots. Before I’m able to fully grasp the looks of him, he’s standing at my window, enticing hazel eyes peering back at me. I can’t hear it, but I’m sure he’s chuckling as he gently taps on the glass. Dazed by the unexpected sight of him, I turn the key like a moron to
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ALFRED SEAN ROBERTS IS THAT YOU
