CHAPTER ONE
DIESEL
PRESENT DAY
“Damn,” I mutter as I roll out of bed, realizing I’m late as f**k for work. I probably shouldn’t have stayed up until two drinking, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have made out with that woman at the bar. I don’t remember her name, just her long legs and revealing neckline. As quickly as I can, I rush to the bathroom to piss, then brush my teeth, and that’s when I see the dark purple hickeys on my neck. Not one or two, but three are in plain sight. I should’ve called her Hoover, considering they’re the size of a vacuum hose.
“s**t,” I say after spitting out the toothpaste because I know I can’t cover them up. Wearing a turtleneck sweater in June might be more of a red flag than just owning up to my stupid mistake. I shrug, then rinse my mouth, and hurry to
