I want to talk.” I don’t break my stride. “And I want to win the lottery. Not happening, buddy.” “Can you stop running away? I’m trying to talk to you, woman.” That’s it. Forget throwing a drink. I’m going to claw this jerk’s eyes out. “Woman?” I screech, spinning on my heel. “Who the hell do you think—” Just like that, he’s in front of me, a wall of expensive suit and delicious cologne—the same sharp citrus he’d had on the night he temporarily blinded me with a flashlight. “Hey, it got you to stop,” he defends, flashing a wolfish grin. “That isn’t an excuse to be rude,” I grind out, blinking
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