Nothing about Derrick and I make sense. The man has three strikes.
Strike One. He’s my best friend’s father.
Strike Two. He’s twenty years older than me.
Strike Three. He’s married.
My plan is simple. Ignore his heated gaze and stare clear of temptation. Then I realize I’m stuck in a house with him for ten days.
One week and three days. That’s easy enough. I can do this. Until I see him shirtless, and my girlie parts overturn all three strikes. But my decision stands, no Derrick.
It will take every ounce of power flowing through my veins to survive. Because something tells me touching that man will be the death of me.