By Sara Bell
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Extra info for A Taste Of You
That seemed a little counterproductive. They were supposed to be fixing it, not destroying it even more. I shifted to the other side of the island, aware that I was still in pajama pants and that the one construction dude looked like he was on the short side of twenty. Big and brawny, he was staring at me. I knew that look. It was the prologue to flirting and I so didn’t want to go there. He had shoulders wider than my bedroom door and hair that looked like it had suffered an accidental encounter with his electric saw.
I sent him a text message. Come to my room. Now. I knew he was somewhere in the house, but I was too busy staring at pictures of goats impaled with pentagrams to bother getting up and finding him. Who knew goats could look so evil? I’d never look at cheese the same way again. Grabbing a notebook out of my desk drawer, I flipped it open to a clean piece of paper and drew a really lame aerial of my house, roof off. I was thinking that if the bathroom was the tip of the pentagram, I really should figure out where all five portals were supposed to be.
Busted. I grinned at him. The police came over and indicated for Levi to open his window. ” “You were doing eighty-five in a sixty-five. ” “Sorry. I’ll be more careful. My girlfriend”—Levi gestured to me—“is late to a class and she’s harping at me. ” Gasp. The loser had just dragged me into his speeding ticket. I was blustering too much to say anything in protest, but the cop glared at me. “You should know better than that. ” Then he said to Levi with a stern reprimand, “You going to jump off a bridge if she tells you to?