“What are you doing here?” After shrugging off his hand, I spared him a glance. I shouldn’t have. He looked pretty good, for an asshole.
Dressed in faded jeans his black tee shirt lay snug across his chest and loose around his abs. Well over six feet, he had the physique of an oil rigger, built rock hard around pure muscle and adrenalin. Stubble darkened his jaw and hair the color of burnished oak brushed his shoulders. Although mirrored glasses hid his eyes I knew one was green, the other blue and they missed nothing.
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