The minute we walk outside into the fresh air, I sober up completely. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful red and orange glow in the evening sky. With my clear head, come enormous self-doubt and a couple rounds of second-guessing.
What am I doing? Somehow, I picked up a man in a bar. I sneak a glance at him, looking through the corner of my eye. He's even sexier than he was in the dark bar.
He's about six foot three, built like a Calvin Klein underwear model, with drop dead gorgeous looks. He's Adonis on his very best day. Adonis's best day, that is. Jarrod doesn't need a best day. He's all kinds of hot on all kinds of days. I'd bet money on it.
But even hot guys can be serial killers. This is what my hundred and fifty IQ is screaming at me, standing next to him outside on the sidew
