He was well-charred toast…

Oh Jesus, it was Iris. Dead straight-ahead, in the phenomenal flesh. Sitting right there in front of me.

I blinked, licking dry lips.

Right. Fuckin’. There. In. Front. Of. Me.

All right… Yet another sign the Man Upstairs was out to get me. Hell, the prick wasn’t even giving me twelve hours to recover from the last sighting! Thanks a lot, God. Working on keeping my tongue in my mouth and off the carpet, I stumbled on my crutches, staring like a fool.

She was trussed up in another sexy mini dress, bright orange this time. Her curvy, sun-kissed legs were crossed and showcased to perfection, slim arms holding a newspaper. PJ was already on site, yammering away to his sis at volume eleven. Slamming on the brakes, I stiffened (everywhere), blood pounding in my overheated veins.

Goddamn…

Right off the bat, I couldn’t decide which looked better—that golden scrap she’d rocked last night with its jaggedy hem practically kissing her pussy, or the tissue-thin number she had on now. Okay, the gold. But it was close, damned close. Swallowing, I gobbled up those silky legs, her exposed collarbone.

Her spectacular, tight little tits.

Other men in the lobby were looking at Iris, too. Lots of other men. Assholes strolling past real slow, pausing as they pretended to check their phones or watches. Worst actors in the freaking universe, the lot of ʼem.  My fists clenched around their little wooden handles as a black haze descended.

Christ, how fucking obvious could you get?

Instantly, I wanted to pluck a dozen pervy eyeballs out of half a dozen heads with flaming hot pincers. Choke the life out of those slow-moving fuckers with my bare hands. Kind of impossible with the crutches, I know. Okay, how about using my stilts as bludgeoning weapons? That would work.

Skewer the tips with all my might between those leering eyes…

This alien possessiveness left me baffled and edgy. What the fuck? Jealousy? I reckoned it must be, stifling a non-laugh as I dazedly acknowledged the fact.

Hell, what a hoot. Me, jealous. A guy who’d never felt that emotion toward a woman a day in his life. Not an hour, not a minute. I rubbed a hand over my chest, which felt weird and tight, like I was about to have the big one. Homicidal as I was, at the same time a strange sympathy toward my fellow man flooded me.

Jesus. No wonder dudes go off the deep end with this evil-green-monster shit.

Crap fucking sucks.