It Started With You

By J. A Melville

Kane Marshall

It all began with a cow.

Okay, this is one of those chicken and egg moments.

First there was the ogling.

Then came the cow. One huge cow.

I was only trying to save her.

The woman. Not the cow.

That ended in disaster.

For me. Not her.

Who knew this could get so embarrassing?

Angelica Hart

It all began with a bull. He'll tell you it was a cow.

He thinks he was saving me from it.

But someone should have saved it from him.

We met under strange circumstances.

Circumstances that ended up shattered on the ground: literally.

I swear you can't make this stuff up.

I wanted to forget him, but fate, or maybe it was concussion intervened.

Who knew this could get so complicated?

This is our story.

This is a love story, full of those cringeworthy moments some of us have. It's also a little bit instalove. If neither of those appeal. If you don't want to read those very real, very human things that can happen, or if you don't believe that love can happen quickly, then perhaps this book isn't for you. If however, you do love to laugh out loud, then this book IS for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A Melville
• Release date: Aug 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781386157021

Book preview

Chapter One

Kane

There are few things I appreciate more in life than a great ass. You show me a nice tight ass with cheeks I can sink my teeth into, then I’d die a happy man.

If you asked my dick, I already know that he’d agree. He was an ass man too. Nothing got him standing up and waving enthusiastically, quite like a great ass.

I can tell you he was nodding in agreement right now. No surprise really because like I said, the one before us was damn near perfect.

As the woman shifted, rising onto her toes, I leaned back to take note of the way her ass cheeks clenched and flexed. Fuck. Too much more of this shit and I ran the risk of being caught with my tongue hanging out and my dick damn near doing the same.

My eyes rose, curious to see more of the woman than just her ass, no matter how perfect it was. She had a slim waist. Tiny in fact, with smooth lightly tanned skin.

I knew this because her top had risen, and a strip of flawless skin was visible to my blatantly ogling eye. It was hard to see much beyond that because of her hair. It was long. Hanging straight and sleek down her back. Stopping just short of that gap where her top ended and her skirt began.

Did I mention she was wearing a skirt? One of those clingy little numbers. The kind that outlined her perfect ass in such a way that any man with a pulse could appreciate it. Her hair was dark. So dark, it appeared black. Maybe it was.

I found my mind wandering to thoughts of fisting handfuls of it while I took her from behind, or holding it back, while I fucked her mouth. Either possibility worked for me. They worked for my dick too. He was in complete agreement. Struggling to make his presence known. Just as well the bastard couldn’t talk, or this could get really embarrassing.

She turned a little as she reached up and my eyes drifted down to watch the way her calf muscles tightened. This woman was a massive cock tease and she had no fucking idea.

Dragging my eyes from her legs and refusing to allow myself to study her ass again, I kept heading north until I saw the biggest fucking cow I’d ever seen in my life. What?

Don’t adjust your sets. You read that correctly. One massive ass cow was teetering...teetering. Fuck. Shit. It was about to become the first fucking cow to be loose in a china shop.

I lunged. She staggered, and the cow lurched. This is starting to sound like a fucked-up version of Old MacDonald’s Farm. I swear I’m not making this shit up.  

Fucking...cow. I bellowed. Hands coming up. Eyes on the prize. Ok, so maybe not a prize, but one hell of a huge cow, all the same.

What? The sweetest sounding feminine voice hit my ears. I swear it was the kind of voice like you get in the Disney classics. You know the type. She talks and the birds and deer flock to her side, gazing at her with adoring eyes.

Cow. I shouted the word at her again. This time economising and skipping the ‘fucking’ because seriously, there was no time for that. A disaster of massive proportions was coming. And I mean massive. I was just doing the chivalrous thing of trying to divert a disaster.

Alright, so maybe there was a tiny part of me that just wanted to see this woman from the front. To see if she was hot from all angles. I wanted to be sure she looked as good coming as she did going. Call me shallow, but we’ve all done it.

Forcing myself to refocus, I fixed my eyes on that mother of a huge fucking cow. It was massive. Too big for her. She was going to end up juggling it or buried under it.

With one almighty leap, and I’m talking the stuff of Olympic gold medals, I channelled my inner Michael Jordan and raised my hands, ready to catch it.

As I leapt, she reared up, and we crashed, our bodies bouncing off one another. I recovered quicker than her, just in time to see that mother ass cow heading straight for her head.

Cow. I screamed again.

Bull. She retorted in that sweet, angelic voice.

What? I turned my head briefly to hers, and that was all the distraction I needed. That damn cow landed on my head, causing it to shatter.

Now before you start thinking frantic rides to hospital in the ambulance, sirens screaming. Or want to start a ‘Go Fund Me’ to raise money for my surgery. Or just to send a ‘get well soon’ card: relax. It wasn’t my head that shattered. It was that fucking ugly ass cow.

Of course, I didn’t escape injury completely. Shards of porcelain pierced my skin, causing some blood loss. My blood loss. Combined with the pain that exploded in my skull, because that damn cow was heavy. I then exploded, spewing out every swear word I could think of, and even making up a few.  

With the blood sacrifice and the cursing, and the pain, I was sure I could add concussion to my growing list of problems.

What the hell did you do that for? That voice, not quite so angelic sounding now, invaded my pity party.

Hands clutching my head, I groaned. I was saving you.

Saving me? How is smashing an ornament over your head, saving me? Irritation coloured her voice, and I wondered how on earth I’d thought she sounded like an angel.

Finally, my anger rising, I brought my head up, ready to tear into this ungrateful woman. You say that like I deliberately did it. Trust me, I wasn’t supposed to take an ugly ass cow to the head. It hurt like a... My voice trailed off when my eyes met hers.

Take a moment to think of every potential romantic scenario you can. There are plenty of them to choose from. Their eyes met across a crowded room and the planet stopped turning on its axis. Everything faded away until it was just him and her. Looking into her eyes set his heart a flutter and he could hear the sweet harmony of a thousand angels singing. You get the picture?

Yeah, well scrap all that. Forget all sweet, boy meets girl moments you’ve ever heard of. My reality was different. Sure, my eyes did meet hers, but no fucking angels began singing. I’m pretty sure the planet is still turning, and the room didn’t fade. It had dimmed a little, but that was mostly due to the blow to the head by the largest cow ornament I’d ever seen.

Still, I had to concede through my pounding head and irritation over this woman’s behavior, the front of her far exceeded my expectations. She was beautiful. Despite the curl to her plump lip as she studied me, like I was something offensive she’d just noticed, on the sole of her shoe. Not to mention the anger that blazed from the biggest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

Maybe it was because she looked seriously pissed, that they seemed so blue? The way she was looking at me, I’m surprised she didn’t leave a line of blackened and scorched skin from shooting me with her death rays.

Ok, I’m exaggerating. She doesn’t have death rays. But seriously, she doesn’t need them. I could feel her wrath burning across my face as she glared at me.

Those death ray eyes narrowed until only a sliver of the blue showed and despite my concussion and fractured skull, I couldn’t help but notice her long, thick, black lashes.

She looked mad. Not foaming at the mouth kind of mad. Just angry. Why the hell was she so angry at me? I’m the one who took a cow to the head.

If this had been a normal meeting and didn’t involve blows to the head for me and death stares from her, I might better appreciate how stunning she was. Each feature, perfect.

You haven’t answered my question? Why did you run into me like that? Couldn’t you see I was trying to get that ornament down off the shelf?

I was trying to save you, for crying out loud. It was going to fall. Trust me, I can say from experience, you wouldn’t want that fucking cow landing on your head.

Bull. She spat the one word at me.

It’s true. It was going to land on you. I was watching. Immediately I wondered if that sounded creepy. Confessing that I’d been watching her. Hopefully she’d think I meant I’d been watching the cow, and not her ass or legs. Back. That strip of naked skin at her waist. Anything really. Other than that cow.

I suspect she wasn’t entirely buying my story when her eyes narrowed even more, and I had an insane desire to run a nervous finger around the collar of my t-shirt.

Bull. Again, she said that one word. This time softly. Her voice hitting just the right note to have the man in my pants twitch, as if to remind me of his presence. Fucking dick. Can’t take him anywhere.

Will you stop saying that? I snapped, over the pounding of my head.   

I keep saying it, because you keep saying cow. She leaned in closer to me, her words clipped, nostrils flared.

Because it was a fucking cow. I yelled, my voice suddenly loud in the quiet shop. It...was...a...cow. I tried again, grinding the words out through tightly clenched teeth. That. I pointed to the broken porcelain scattered at our feet. Is a cow. Or perhaps I should say: was.

Bull. It’s not a cow. It’s a bull. If you looked closer, you would see it has testicles and not an udder.

What? I stared at her, wondering if insanity ran in her family. All I see is a pile of ugly ass cow in pieces on the floor.

It wasn’t ugly. She seethed. It was beautiful. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for a decent ornament of a bull? They’re always cows. Always.

With another look to make sure she wasn’t feeding me a great big pile of verbal shit, I glanced down at the remains of her cow. Oh, wait a minute. In the interest of being politically correct: bull.

It was then, that I saw it. I saw them. Balls. Big fucking balls. Damn, were bulls really hung like that? A man could feel inadequate if he had to compare himself against those.

Mother fucker. I muttered under my breath. Are all bull’s nuts that big?

Her expression changed, a hint of a smile making those plump lips of hers curve up, and immediately, I was on high alert. What shit was she going to throw at me this time?

Feeling a little threatened, are we? Laughter glinted in her baby blue’s as they locked on mine, before lowering to my groin. That one look made me feel exposed. Even a little insecure. I groaned silently. Fuck, it’s official. I’m becoming a woman. But potential gender change or not, I had an insanely strong urge to shield my pride and joy from her prying eyes. Before she found some way to ridicule us. But especially before she noticed my dick had raised his head to about half mast. Probably not wanting to feel left out.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. This woman was beginning to drive me crazy. I should have left her alone. Let the damn cow – no – wait a minute - the bull - hit her on the head. It might have knocked her out and I could have made my escape from this store and not have to put up with the shit I was currently dealing with.

Why would anyone want a fucking bull statue anyway? The thing was huge. My eyes lowered to the floor again. Well, it was huge. Now it was just a huge mess.

Hey! An angry male voice got our attention and I turned to see a reed thin, pimple faced man child storming towards us. I say man child because I’m not sure, despite the skin, that he was a teenager. He looked older than that, but the acne worked in his favour, if acne could be considered a favour, and gave the illusion that he was probably younger than he really was. You break it, you pay for it. His outraged face swung from me to the bull hugging woman by my side, then down to the smashed remains of said bull.

I didn’t break it. She jumped in before I could so much as open my mouth. "He did." An accusing finger shoved in my direction.

Hey. Wait a minute. I began, finding two sets of eyes on me, now. "She was getting it off the shelf. It was tipping over and I knew it would hit her, so I tried to grab it before it hit her on the head." I shot her a smug grin because she couldn’t argue with that kind of reasoning. My intentions had been noble. She was just being an ungrateful ass about it. No wonder chivalry was supposedly dying. A man tries to perform a good deed, and this is how he’s treated for his efforts.

I saw her small hands ball into fists as she glared at me. Those intensely blue eyes shooting daggers. I bet she wished they were ray guns. You know, one look and she could melt my face off. Lucky for me, glaring was about the best she could do. My face was not going to melt off my skull today.

My brain was another story. The pounding headache wasn’t receding. No surprise really. Arguing with this crazy woman was making it worse.

You didn’t grab it from me. You tackled me and made me drop it. That’s when it fell on your head. You should have tried to catch it with your hands rather than your head. It’s your fault it’s broken. She waved a hand to the floor as if somewhere in my diminished capacity, due to the possible brain damage, I might have forgotten about the mess of broken porcelain scattered at our feet. Not bloody likely when those damn testicles she’d pointed out, were lying there, mocking me.

Fucking hell. I growled, my own anger rising steadily. Have you lost your flipping mind? I did not tackle you. The bloody thing was going to fall. You forget, I could see what was going to happen.

Look I don’t care who broke it. I just care about who’s going to pay for it. The scrawny looking shop assistant piped up and again, we both turned to him.

When he realised he had our undivided attention, he began to nervously lick his lips, eyes darting back and forth between us. I could tell he was a serial lip licker due to their cracked and dry appearance.

How much was it? I finally broke the silence. Well, someone had to. The frequent wet sound of lip licking was proving to be distracting. I had enough going on with the pounding headache. Cuts and abrasions. Not to mention the annoying woman who’d started all this.

One hundred and ninety-five dollars. The price was delivered with a side order of lip licking, shifty eyes and nervous rocking from side to side. I wasn’t sure if the man was concerned about my reaction or he was anxious for his next fix. Not drugs. He didn’t really look like the type. Lip balm. My guess was, the man had an urgent need for lip balm.

I stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to slap his head, apologize and admit he’d made a mistake. That price could not be fucking right. Nearly two hundred dollars for a bloody cow figurine? Oh, wait a minute. A bull figurine. Let’s not forget those super-sized nuts, after all.

You...can’t...be...serious? I somehow squeezed the words out through tightly gritted teeth which did nothing for the pounding of my head. It’s a fucking ornament. It hit me on the head. I probably have concussion. I am not paying for the damn thing.

Well, I’m not. It wouldn’t be broken if you’d kept your hands to yourself. Ms Collector of Bulls piped up, shooting me a dagger filled look.

Someone needs to pay for it. The shop can’t lose that kind of money. The shop assistant delivered the words with his signature lip lick. On a side note. Try saying lip lick over and over, really quickly.

I sighed, my patience with this situation beginning to wear thin. I’ve got the mother of all fucking headaches. That thing was heavy. You shouldn’t put things that big and heavy on a top shelf. My eyes shifted from him to her. And you need to learn to ask for help before trying to get something that big off a high shelf. I’m tired of arguing over this shit. I’m not paying for the damn bull. I’ll meet you in the middle and pay half. That’s it.

Finally, the universe must have swung in my favour, and although she didn’t look happy about becoming a co payee for the bull, she didn’t protest either.

When I walked away to follow the shop assistant to the counter, she fell into step alongside me. With a lot of silent cursing, on my part, the price was split and the broken bull, paid for.

After that, my interest in this woman had waned. Concussion will do that to a man. I stumbled outside, ready to stagger back to my car when I realised she was following me.

I stopped, eyeing her off warily. You’re not going to throw something at me, are you? Maybe push me in front of a car?  With all the tourists around right now, it could probably be passed off as an accident.

She smiled. The first genuine looking smile. A smile that had my eyes narrowing on her and my body tensing, ready for whatever she was going to throw at me, perhaps literally.

How’s your head? You broke the bull’s fall so effectively with it. A touch of sarcasm tainted her voice.

I’ll probably live. Disappointed?

No. She tilted her head to one side, looking at me. Indifferent would be more appropriate.

So, why was that cow statue so important to you? I had to ask. Why? I wasn’t entirely sure. I should be running for the hills, not finding reasons to delay walking away from her.

Bull. She immediately corrected. I collect cow ornaments. I have for years. I love them. She sighed, a pensive look appearing briefly in her eyes. Bulls are so hard to find.

There was a moment’s awkward silence and for some bizarre reason, I felt a twinge of guilt. I really had been trying to help her. I still believed, and I’d swear it on my deathbed, if I hadn’t lost my mind by then, that without my intervention, it would have fallen on her. She would have taken a blow to the head by a large set of testicles.

I’m sorry. Maybe another bull will turn up one day.

She sighed. I don’t know. That was the first one I’ve ever seen.

Stupidly, her words made me feel worse. Outside on the sidewalk. Away from the tension that had been thick inside the shop, I was starting to feel bad. The kind of ‘bad’ that had nothing to do with my headache.

What’s your name? Amid all the angst, and now the possibility of walking away and never seeing her again, I wanted to know what to call her. Even if it was just me cursing her later when I began disinfecting all the cuts from the porcelain.

Why do you want to know? She asked, and I fought not to roll my eyes at the frustration that was this woman. I was only asking her name. Not asking for her bank balance. There would be no spotlight shone in her face and an interrogation involving thumb tacks under the nails.

I sighed heavily. I figured since we’re co-owners of a smashed porcelain bull, it might be nice to know your name.

We don’t have the bull. Why? Did you want to collect the pieces?

Fucking hell woman. Can you just answer the damn question? I snapped. And no. I don’t want the broken bull. Since this is obviously so hard for you, I’ll start. My name is Kane.

Blue eyes narrowed, studying me as if I had just revealed that I was a secret spy. Kane. After uttering my name, she fell silent again, and I was about to accept she wasn’t ever going to tell me hers, when she spoke. Just one word. Angelica.

The moment I heard her name, I burst out laughing. I’m talking hands on my knees. Bent over at the waist. Tears running down my cheeks. Stomach aching, hysterical laughter.

It’s not that funny, asshole. She growled. Her eyes flashing angrily, before she turned and stormed off.

I let her get a few strides from me before I took off after her. Ignoring the relentless pounding in my head. Damn it hurt, and fighting this annoying woman wasn’t helping.

She’d looked so beautiful and sexy from the back. Stupid me should have left it at that. But no, my dick needed to see her from the front. I’m gonna blame him. He’s always the one getting me into situations that cause me trouble.

She was beautiful from the front too. Stunning in fact. With her sleek mane of near black hair. Eyes that reminded me of the sky on a brilliant summer’s day. A slim, perfect body. Perky tits, tiny waist, long legs. You know the kind. Built for wrapping around a man’s hips and hanging on while he fucked her hard and fast. Scrap that, while I fucked her hard and fast.

The fantasy had been playing like soft porn in my head until that fucking bull. After the blow to the head from the damn thing, it had taken the edge off my fantasy, but when she opened her mouth, that was the final nail in the coffin for it.

To think I thought she had the voice of an angel. I snickered to myself. She did, but the trouble was, she didn’t use that sweet-sounding voice for good. She used it to verbally tear my head off, and that was just plain cruel. It was still the morning, and too early for this shit.  

Catching up to her, I grabbed her arm. She jerked, trying to free herself, but I dug my fingers in, determined to make her listen to me before she took off halfcocked. Only one of us could be halfcocked and that was me. I was at half-mast anyway. Amazing considering all the shit that had gone down over the last fifteen minutes or so. The man in my pants was a trooper. No denying that. Despite all the setbacks, he hadn’t lost sight of the prize: getting inside her.

Chapter Two

Angelica

The only reason I wasn’t screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to remove this man from my arm, was for purely shallow reasons. He was drop dead gorgeous.

When I’d turned in the shop after that beautiful bull ornament hit the floor, after first bouncing off his head of course, I’d been so distracted by his appearance and my reaction, that I’d done as I always do when put in a position I can’t handle. I turned into a shrew and wailed on him.

Well, it was that or drool and I’m sure it would be considered in bad taste to drool on a perfect stranger, even if I tried to justify it by telling him I was using my saliva to soothe his head injury. Maybe I could convince him it had special healing powers and that I only used it for good? Yeah, that sounds way better in my head than it would if I tried saying that out aloud.

I know I went on at him. Acting like he was being a baby over the whole blow to the head, but I could see he really had been hurt. That bull was heavy. I realised when I tried to lift it off the shelf, that I’d taken on more than I could handle.

The way he’d held his head, combined with the numerous small cuts across his forehead, told me he had good reason to be pissed at what had happened. He could seriously be concussed too. I was no expert, but his pupils did look kind of dilated and we were in bright sunlight. Shouldn’t they have gone to pin prick size by now?

Suddenly aware that I was standing on the sidewalk staring at him, I went into defense mode and tried to pull my arm free. You’d think in his weakened state, I’d have half a chance of getting away, but fractured skull or no fractured skull, the man had a firm grip. Firm enough that I’d probably bruise.

Will you stop fighting me? His deep, sexy sounding voice, that got all the girly bits fluttering, held a note of exasperation. The fight seemed to be going out of him and I could see the pain he was feeling, reflected in his eyes.

He had beautiful eyes. Fitting I guess, given the rest of him was gorgeous. Clearly, he had been at the head of the line when they were handing out the best of the gene pool.

They were a rich, warm, chocolate brown. Not dark chocolate, but the good quality, expensive milk chocolate. Like the kind you can only buy from those classy confectionary stores.

They were surrounded by indecently long, full dark lashes. So unfair for men to get lashes like that. His hair matched his eyes. A rich shade of brown, with lighter highlights I noticed in the sunlight. Natural by the looks of things. Not chemically added highlights.

It was thick. The kind of thick you want to run your hands through. I know I wanted to touch it. I had to clench my fingers into fists to stop myself doing just that.

It was swept back off his face, but a lock of it had gone against the grain so to speak, and had fallen over his forehead, dangling almost into his left eye.

He wore it slightly over long. The ends brushing the neckline of the plain black t-shirt he was wearing. A t-shirt that molded itself to his body enough that I could see what lay beneath it was pure, masculine perfection.

Helplessly, my eyes dropped lower to where the black fabric was tucked into a pair of charcoal coloured chinos. They were a loose fit, but not loose enough that I couldn’t see what a fine ass he had. Combined with long legs, muscular thighs, and from my brief, I’m not really looking, but I am, glance, there was plenty going on behind the zipper of those chinos.

Since his pants finished at the ankles, I could see he wasn’t wearing socks. Just a pair of what looked like black Vans on his bare feet.

Reluctantly returning my eyes to his, I wasn’t sure if he’d noticed my not so subtle perusal of his fine body. I figured I might have pulled it off without him noticing, since all I could see on his face was pain. That, and what I suspected was growing frustration.

Let me go. The words came out high and squeaky. That was my usual voice when in the presence of a gorgeous, sexy man. Still, it wouldn’t do, so I cleared my throat and had another go. Let...me...go. Good. Firm. Precise. I sounded like I meant it this time.

No. Not until you let me explain. His voice had lowered and developed a husky note which was enough to have everything south of the border sit up and take notice. I wasn’t laughing at your name. I swear. Ok, I was, sort of.

Ok, his words were losing him some points. The voice was enough for a perfect score of ten, but finding my name amusing, had dropped him down to a six. That was fair. Fair on the score. Not fair on him laughing at my name.

Thanks for the explanation. I ground out, finding some of my inner sarcasm to use on him. Now, if you’d please just let me go. I tugged against his grip again. I have things to do, and you’re holding me up.

No. He was beginning to sound exasperated. Good for him. I was starting to feel pissed off.

No? I shot back. Are you telling me what I can and can’t do now?

No. He sighed heavily, weary brown eyes meeting mine. Did anyone ever tell you that you are an incredibly frustrating person to talk to?

I snorted, but I wasn’t laughing. Does this shit work for you when picking up women? I asked. Because you really need to brush up on your charm, if you want to get laid any time soon. My eyes widened, dropping to his hand and seeing no ring. Not that the lack of a wedding band meant he was single. He could still have a girlfriend. Although if he did, it had to be because he had money, lots of it, or he was fantastic in bed, because on the scale of one to ten as far as charm was concerned, he was in the minus.

Fuck! He fired off the curse, eyes raised to the sky for a moment before meeting mine again. Let’s try this again. I laughed at your name because when I first heard your speaking voice, I thought you had the voice of an angel. He spoke slowly, teeth gritted, lips barely moving. The man had a potential career as a ventriloquist if he got tired of doing whatever it was that he did.

When his words finally registered, my mood shifted from annoyance and fighting the desire not to throw him under one of the passing cars, to maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. But then I realised he was speaking in the past tense.

Why do I get the feeling there’s a but? I asked.

The smallest trace of a smile touched his beautiful lips. They really were beautiful. Well-shaped and full, but not too full for a man. They were full, but they were still masculine looking lips. Shit, they were moving and I realised he was talking again.

Then you started shredding me over the fallen bull and I was too busy trying to defend my actions to appreciate your voice anymore. Brown eyes, looking a little less focused met mine again. I guess it struck me as funny that your voice drew my attention in the store. That I thought of you as an angel. Your name is Angelica, but let’s face it, there was nothing angelic about the way you ripped me a new one over that statue.

Bulls are hard to find. I rolled out what might sound like the same tired argument, but I hadn’t lied to him. Finding a bull ornament that was authentic looking, was hard to find.

Testicles. He said, and I frowned, confused by his word of choice. His grip on my arm loosened and mentally I began preparing myself for the awkward ‘goodbye’ speech.

"You don’t see many bull ornaments that are anatomically correct, I confirmed. Assuming that was what he’d meant by spitting out testicles, like a person with Tourette Syndrome. Verbally spitting them out of course, not literally.

No. He agreed. His hand dropping away from my arm and he seemed to lurch to one side as if suddenly struck by gale force winds.

His actions took me by surprise and my eyes followed him, realising immediately that something was wrong. The healthy, sun kissed look Kane’s skin had when I’d first seen him in the shop, was now gone. He looked awful. Still sexy as hell, but pale. Really pale.

His warm chocolate coloured eyes looked vague and unfocused, and I could see the sheen of perspiration across his top lip.

Kane. Are you alright? It was my turn to grab his arm. Kane. I called his name again. Louder this time as he stumbled sideways.

I...don’t...feel...so...good. The words came out like he was talking around a mouthful of marbles. Sit...I need...I need...sit. Although he stumbled over the words, I had no trouble working out what he needed.

My car. I pointed to the Jeep Wrangler parked close to where we stood. Can you walk? I asked.

Yeah. His voice might be saying one thing, but his body didn’t look like it was backing him up. I was scared he’d pass out on the sidewalk.

Slipping an arm around his waist and pushing my shoulder against his body to try and get him to lean on me, we shuffled and staggered our way to my car. The man was heavy and not making a hell of a lot of effort to support himself, so it was a relief to make it to the car without either one of us hitting the concrete.

It’s purple. His words were slurred as if he’d just spent the night at the pub.

Do you have a problem with that? I waited for him to give my car the stink eye or something equally offensive. No one criticized my car. Sick or not, one smartass comment about it and I’d leave him in a crumpled heap at the side of the road.

Fortunately, the man was sick and not stupid because he shook his head, wincing at the same time. I opened the passenger door for him and somehow managed to manhandle him inside. If anyone had been watching, it probably looked like I was kidnapping him.

Once he was seated, somewhat buckled over, but at