Angol
For two years I've kept Leon Steadman at a safe distance, ever since the night he turned me down flatter than a pancake with a side order of syrupy disapproval. His loss. The world is full of sexy men. One and done is simply good math and efficient use of my time. Or it would be, if I hadn't been lusting after the irritating, judgemental, gorgeous, mountain of a man, ever since.
The less I see of Leon, the better. Bad enough that his tattoo business sits next to Flare, the fashion store I manage, and that he's friendly with my boss. But now he's apartment-sitting above the shop, as well. Every time I turn around, Leon is there. In my store. In my space. Messing with my head. Being all nice and charming and acting like maybe he's not the biggest jerk to walk the earth, after all.
Well, I don't want or need Leon's apologies, but maybe if I can have him, just once, it might put an end to this ridiculous hunger that sparks every time I lay eyes on him.
Yeah, I'll get back to you on that.
