Chapter 7

Of course, it would have been a hell of a lot easier on me if he wasn’t wearing a pair of shorts made out of some stretchy material that clung to his thighs. His legs were muscular and long, the blond hair so light it was hard to see sometimes, but I had no doubt I’d be able to feel it if I ran my hands along them. He had great legs. I was pretty sure he knew I thought so, and that was why he was wearing the tiny shorts in the first place. I realized we had the heat on, but didn’t he know it was thirty degrees outside? It was the middle of October, for Christ’s sake.

“Is it that you have attachment or commitment issues?” he asked suddenly, startling me out of my TV coma.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled.

“It would make sense,” he continued conversationally. “You never knew your father; your mother passed away; Carrie moved out and left you. So, yeah, it would make sense that you would be wary about making a commitment to someone else.”