We both come to a full stand together, my head just reaching his shoulder. Perfect height for me to tear off his shirt and run my mouth all over his hot, hard skin. “You’re right,” I say weakly. “Let me put together another one.”

He says nothing as I trash the first box and put together the second one with even shakier hands. But I succeed in getting it in place and I settle the candle inside, sealing it before I grab a label and take down his mother’s address.

I’m not acknowledging what he said. I’m not acknowledging what I’m thinking either. This is all a big mistake. If I even consider pursuing this…thing between us, I know he’ll just use me up and spit me out. I don’t want to risk it. I’m not a risky person. I hedge safe bets. Hell, I usually don’t bet at all. I test the waters, test them again, then test them yet again before I finally jump in.

Shep is a jump in without a thought type of guy. I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…

“Go out with me tonight.”

“Okay.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, which just makes him laugh. Jerk. Smug, gorgeous, hot as hell jerk.

“No taking it back,” he says once his laughter dies. Those dark eyes of his go even darker if that’s possible. “You’re mine tonight, Jade.”

“Wh-what exactly do you have planned?” I clear my throat, hating how nervous I sound. The man unnerves me like no other.

“Don’t know yet,” he answers, not sounding bothered by his lack of planning at all. “I’m sure it’ll be something amazing though.”

For once, I don’t plan on calling him out for his arrogance. I’m actually finding it attractive, which I would never admit to him. “Want to meet here? I get off work at five.”

“I am a true gentleman, Jade. I refuse to meet you anywhere.” He smiles. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“And let you see where I live? I don’t think so.” I shake my head.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Really? You’re still on the Shep is a stalker kick? Because I can reassure you, I am definitely not.”

“Fine.” I blow out an exasperated breath. He’s relentless. Or I just easily give in when it comes to him. “Hand me your phone.”

He does so, purposely touching me again. And there’s that spark again, too. Yikes. I start to add my name and phone number to his contacts but hesitate. Should I give him my number?

You so want to. Give it up girl.

I enter my phone number then my address and hand the phone back to him. He takes it, frowning at my entry before he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine. “You live in the dorms?”

I shrug. “I’m a freshman. Kelli and I are roommates.”

“Your friend at the party last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Your friend you were sitting with at the poker game?”

I nod.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Nineteen.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, my go-to defensive pose. He does the same thing, mirroring me right down to the way I’m standing, one foot sort of cocked out. “Do you have a problem with that?” I ask coolly.

He smiles and shakes his head, dropping his arms back to his sides. “None whatsoever. I don’t discriminate. Age is nothing but a number.”

I roll my eyes. “What time will you pick me up?” I ask.

“I’ll text you later and let you know.” He starts toward the front door and I stare, unabashedly admiring that long legged stride of his, the easy way he moves. It’s almost overwhelming, how hot he is.

And he’s definitely, outrageously hot.

“You didn’t give me your number,” I shout at him as he opens the door, his broad back still to me.

“I’ll give it to you in a minute,” he answers from over his shoulder before he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

I plop down into the chair behind the counter and let out a harsh breath, resting my hand over my chest. My heart is racing and I swear I’m lightheaded, all from our little encounter.

So crazy. He shouldn’t affect me this way. I shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t matter. But somehow, someway, he does. He’s wormed himself into my brain and I can’t stop thinking about him. Apparently he feels the same way.

Weird.

My phone beeps and I pull it out of my pocket, unable to stop the smile that curves my lips.

Here’s your text. And my number.

I decide to answer him.

Promise you won’t stalk me?

Promise.

A pause.

But I can’t promise I won’t become obsessed with you…

Another pause. Another message.

Because I think that might be already happening.

“You mean to tell me he’s coming here to pick you up and take you out? On an actual date?” Kelli curls her lip into an undeniable smirk. “Wow. Shep Prescott doesn’t date, you know. Ever.”

I roll my eyes, trying to tell my overactive stomach to calm down. It’s like there are a million little baby tap dancers inside of me, kicking the shit out of my guts and making me hopelessly, horribly nervous. “What do you mean?”

Of course, he dates. He’s known to go through girls, one after the other. He has a man-whore reputation. Pretty much every girl on campus wants to drop her panties for him or one of his equally gorgeous friends. It’s sort of irritating, how easily I fell under his spell. Because he definitely knows how to cast one. I was so incredibly irritated when I saw him in the shop. Irritated and intrigued.

My irritation quickly turned to pleasure. Awareness. So much damnable awareness and chemistry and whatever else you call it that brewed between us. I could feel it. Did he feel it? He had to. He’s the one who asked me to go out with him.

Though maybe he’s doing it because supposedly he won me in a bet and he thinks I’m easy prey. Or more like an easy lay.

Nope. Not going to fall for that. I will not end up naked with him tonight. No. No. No.

And now I can’t help but wonder what he looks like naked.

“He hooks up but doesn’t steadily date any of them. Sounds like you might be an exception.” Kelli sounds surprised.

Hmm. So am I. I shouldn’t read too much into what she’s saying. This is probably just a hookup. “He claims I owe him a date. All because of that stupid bet. I could kill Joel.”

“Right. Kill your now ex-boyfriend for getting you the opportunity to date Shep? That bet might be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Please.” I wave a hand. “I’m pissed that I have to go out with him. Trust me.”

A skeptical eyebrow is raised, one that tells me Kelli’s about to call me out on my shit. “Seriously? Do you really think I’m going to believe that?”

I’m trying my best to believe it, so I hope she does too. “I may as well get this over with.” I go to my tiny closet and start thumbing through the clothes, pushing through the hangers, one after another. I have nothing good to wear. Nothing pretty and new or flirty and sexy. Not that I want to flirt or look sexy.

You so do.

Okay, fine I do. I want to knock stupid sexy Shep on his ass when he takes one look at me but how? “I have nothing to wear,” I moan.