2 Chapter Meeting Hottie

Heavy footsteps came from the other side, and then the door was swinging open and I was staring at a very broad, tan, well-muscled chest.

A naked chest. My gaze dropped and my breath sort of...stalled. Jeans hung low on his hips, revealing a thin line of dark hair that formed below his navel and disappeared under the band of the jeans.

His stomach was ripped. Perfect. Totally touchable. Not the kind of stomach I expected on a seventeen-year-old boy, which is how old I suspected he was, but yeah, I wasn't complaining. I also wasn't talking. And I was staring.

My gaze finally traveling north again, I noted thick, sooty lashes fanning the tips of his high cheeks and hiding the color of his eyes as he looked down at me. I needed to know what color his eyes were.

"Can I help you?" Full, kissable lips turned down in annoyance.

His voice was deep and firm. The kind of voice accustomed to people listening and obeying without question. His lashes lifted, revealing eyes so green and brilliant they couldn't be real. They were an intense emerald color that stood out in vibrant contrast against his tan skin.

"Hello?" he said again, placing one hand on the doorframe as he leaned forward. "Are you capable of speaking?"

I sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back. A wave of embarrassment heated my face.

The boy lifted an arm, brushing back a wavy lock of hair on his forehead. He glanced over my shoulder, then back to me. "Going once..." By the time I found my voice, I wanted to die. "I...I was wondering if you knew where the closest grocery store is. My name is Katy. I moved next door." I gestured at my house, rambling like an idiot. "Like two days ago - "

"I know."

Ooooo-kay. "Well, I was hoping someone would know the quickest way to the grocery store and maybe a place that sold plants."

"Plants?"

For some reason, it didn't sound as though he was asking me a question, but I rushed to answer anyway. "Yeah, see, there's this flower bed in front - "

He said nothing, just cocked a brow with disdain. "Okay."

The embarrassment was fading, replaced by a growing surge of anger. "Well, see, I need to go buy plants - "

"For the flower bed. I got that." He leaned his hip against the doorframe and crossed his arms. Something glittered in his green eyes. Not anger, but something else.

I took a deep breath. If this dude cut me off one more time...My voice took on the tone my mother used when I was younger and was playing with sharp objects. "I'd like to find a store where I can buy groceries and plants."

"You are aware this town has only one stoplight, right?" Both eyebrows were raised to his hairline now as if he were questioning how I could be so dumb, and that's when I realized what I saw sparkling in his eyes. He was laughing at me with a healthy dose of condescension.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. He was probably the hottest guy I'd ever seen in real life, and he was a total douche. Go figure. "You know, all I wanted was directions.

This is obviously a bad time." One side of his lips curled up. "Anytime is a bad time for you to come knocking on my door, kid."

"Kid?" I repeated, eyes widening.

A dark, mocking eyebrow arched again. I was starting to hate that brow.

"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen."

"Is that so?" He blinked. "You look like you're twelve. No. Maybe thirteen, but my sister has this doll that kinda reminds me of you. All big-eyed and vacant."

I reminded him of a doll? A vacant doll?

Warmth burned in my chest, spreading up my throat. "Yeah, wow. Sorry to bother you. I won't be knocking on your door again. Trust me." I started to turn, leaving before I caved to the rampant desire to slam my fists into his face. Or cry.

"Hey," he called out.

I stopped on the bottom step but refused to turn around and let him see how upset I was.

"What?"

"You get on Route 2 and turn onto U.S. 220

North, not South. Takes you into Petersburg." He let out an irritated breath, as if he were doing me a huge favor. "The Foodland is right in town.

You can't miss it. Well, maybe you could.

There's a hardware store next door, I think.

They should have things that go in the ground."

"Thanks," I muttered and added under my breath, "Douchebag."

He laughed, deep and throaty. "Now that's not very ladylike, Kittycat."

I whipped around. "Don't ever call me that," I snapped.

"It's better than calling someone a douchebag, isn't it?" He pushed out the door.

"This has been a stimulating visit. I'll cherish it for a long time to come."

Okay. That was it. "You know, you're right.

How wrong of me to call you a douchebag.

Because a douchebag is too nice of a word for you," I said, smiling sweetly. "You're a dickhead."

"A dickhead?" he repeated. "How charming."

I flipped him off.

He laughed again and bent his head. A mess of waves fell forward, nearly obscuring his intense green eyes. "Very civilized, Kitten. I'm sure you have a wild array of interesting names and gestures for me, but not interested." I did have a lot more I could say and do, but I gathered my dignity, pivoted, and stomped back over to my house, not giving him the pleasure of seeing how truly pissed I was. I'd always avoided confrontation in the past, but this guy was flipping my bitch switch like nothing else.

When I reached my car, I yanked open the door.

"See you later, Kitten!" he called out, laughing as he slammed the front door.

Tears of anger and embarrassment burnt my eyes. I shoved the keys into the ignition and threw the car into reverse. 'Make an effort,'

Mom had said. That's what happens when you make an effort.