The Bad Jokes #1: The Redhead

Chapter 3: I Wasn't About To Start Now

I couldn't get out of her damn apartment fast enough, my mind trying to process everything. Unbelievable. The woman I'd almost killed last night, the one haunting my every thought since then, was my first call of the day.

I'd never believed in coincidences.

She lived on the floor above me, this woman who'd moved into the complex and apparently into my thoughts. I'd flown on my bike for hours after our encounter, hoping to outrun the image of her red, flowing hair under the streetlight, that seductive mouth. Those fucking eyes.

I'd thought I was past it all, but I'd been furious when she'd breathlessly mentioned my scar.

Until the fifth replay of that scene, when I realized it hadn't been the sound of revulsion in her voice but a mixture of excitement and wonder.

She'd been staring at me like I was some long-awaited Christmas present. No one had ever looked at me like that before, and something deep inside me had stirred to life in response.

Had she just been a pretty face or an amazing body, I could have ignored that, but her expressive, green eyes had spoken to me on a level I never opened myself to. I would have been blind to miss the way those eyes devoured me, drinking in every detail with a hunger that spoke of an intimacy that couldn't exist...yet somehow did.

In her condo just now, I'd felt the weight of her eyes on me once again, and I couldn't escape the uncomfortable feeling that I was the only one there without a script they were all reading from.

When I'd finished with the dishwasher, I'd walked into the chaotic living room where she was relaxed and talking with her...friends? sisters?...about some guy named Alex. She sat there surrounded by bubble wrap and boxes, relaxed and laughing until her eyes met mine and her laughter faded.

I'd needed to get out of there.

I hadn't given a woman a second thought for five years and I sure as hell wasn't about to start now.