I’d just curled up into my usual spot on our swinging porch bench when a man busted out of George’s house so fast the door slammed against the wall, causing me to jump.
I frowned at the interruption, glancing over to seeanotherstrange man on George’s front lawn.
This man was just as beautiful as Gabriel, though his coloring was completely different. He had a mop of dark hair that complemented his tawny skin, and he was wearing a crisp black shirt rolled up to his elbows.
There was a block of script tattooed on the inside of his forearm, and I caught a flash of the ink as I watched him run a frustrated hand through his thick, dark hair.
I watched quietly as the man seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle with himself.
His jaw clenched, and he crushed his eyes shut, muttering words like‘pathetic’and‘idiot’to himself.
The negative energy and self-hatred rolling off him were so pungent that, for a moment, I forgot about the card’s warning, and I found myself wanting to comfort him.
“Hey,” I said softly, and the man’s entire body stiffened.Slowly, he turned to face me, and I swallowed.
He was almost cat-like in his movements, and suddenly, he didn’t look conflicted or distraught anymore. Goosebumps erupted over my flesh as his green eyes took me in, and I felt like I was being studied by a predator.
“Hello,” the man purred, sliding his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.
“Hi.”
“You must be Harper.”
His voice sounded familiar, and I was struck with the strangest feeling that I knew this man from somewhere. My intuition was sending me mixed signals. I wanted to run from him and hug him at the same time.
Weird.
“Yeah. Are you Gabe’s partner?” I asked, forcing myself to sit still. His gaze was locked in on me so intently I wasn’t sure what would happen if I moved.
Why did I feel like he would chase me if I ran?
Why did I feel like that would be insanely fun?
What the fuck waswrongwith me today?
The wry smirk on the man’s face faltered at the mention of Gabe, but he recovered quickly.
“Sure. When it suits me,” he purred, and I frowned.
“Lover’s quarrel?” I asked. Even though I’d known this man for literally two seconds, I was getting a witchy feeling that he wasn’t being honest, not just with me, but with himself.
“I don’tquarrelwith my lovers, sweetheart,” he rumbled, cocking his head to the side. “I usually just throw them away.”
Ew.
What a douchey thing to say.
I rolled my eyes. “Spoken like a true incel,” I grumbled, dismissing him and turning back to my book.
He barked out a laugh and came closer, leaning his hands on the fence that divided our properties.
“Did you really just call me an incel?” he asked, that strangely endearing smirk still curled across his lips.
“You heard me,” I replied dryly as I drew a black circle in the corner of my page to represent the new moon.
“I’m pretty sure incels don’t get laid.” He chuckled.
I glanced back up at him, feeling my own lips twitch.
