Okay.
Three seconds in the company of the stupid hot cowboy and I’m suddenly auditioning to be the next Marvel snark queen.
So, no, I wasn’t expecting Zeke to pick me up. And, yes, my foolish heart started pounding the second I spied him.
But where are these one-liners even coming from?
What the heck is wrong with me?
Sigh. Do I even need to answer that?
Let’s take stock.
I’m a chubby almost-doctor pretending to be a school nurse while hiding from my unhinged ex-boyfriend, who just so happens to be a literal gangster with mafia ties and a warped sense of ownership when it comes to me.
So, yeah. I’m in absolutely zero position to be swooning over the man who just pulled up in a growly black pickup like he walked straight out of my favorite enemies-to-lovers Pinterest board.
And yet.
There he is.
Zeke Gordon.
All six-foot-forever of glowering, brooding cowboy gorgeousness.
Still, just as unfairly hot as the night we danced.