EVEN THOUGH I KNEW Sinclair was coming over, I still have a mini-panic attack when heavy knocks sound on my door twenty minutes later. The alfredo is nowhere near done, the sauce is simmering on the stovetop, filling my house with a deliciously cheesy scent. The fettuccine pasta noodles are being boiled now, and I contemplate pretending I'm not here. Maybe if I don't answer the door, he'll just get the hint and go away.
But when have things ever turned out the way I want them to?
"I know you're in there, little goddess, I can smell the alfredo through the door. Let me in. I'm starving."
With a great huff, I go over to my front door and fling it open, coming face to face with Sinclair in all his glory. He has his hands shoved in the pockets of his black jeans and the leather Iron Order j
