Page 2 of Inappropriately Matched

I scoop Honeypot up, not wanting her to get her paws dusty or step onto a nail, and tread my way carefully over the uneven terrain.

Hmm...Did I really wear a pair of slippers in the shape of a cartoon character to a fight with construction workers?

Yes, yes, I did.

But it’s fine. I’m a warrior princess. I’m fighting for all the sleeping beauties in all the apartments around here who don’t deserve this cacophony of nonstop clanging and thudding and earth-shaking drilling, and I’ll do it in my cartoon character slippers, please and thank you.

When I got Honeypot, I gave up my favorite pair of novelty slippers because it was a dog with big ears and sad eyes, and I didn’t want Honeypot to think I was a dictator and that would be how she’d end up.

Did I just miss drowning myself in a pool of cement that came out of nowhere? Probably, but I escaped by the stain on my shirt, so yay. I don’t pass anyone on my way, and I have to tread deep into the site before I do.

Finally, I find human life. Life in the form of three very, very tall men.

Chapter Two

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Clementine

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Ilook up to see whathas got their attention. They seem to be watching a crane hoist a huge beam of steel onto the structure.

Facing away from me, their backs are so broad I know my arms wouldn’t be able to go around them. And given the way their muscles strain against the black T-shirts they wear, their arms are clearly folded over their chests. My gaze lowers to their narrow waists, where their jeans rest almost precariously. One of them lifts his arm to point at something, and I get a glimpse of a band of white boxer briefs over tanned skin.

Lower, and my eyes widen at the sight of a trio of butts that probably feel as hard as they look. They’re standing with their legs braced wide apart, the fabric of their jeans stretched sumptuously over the muscles at the back of their thighs.

I wonder if I bend over, will I be able to see their package hanging from between their legs, which I’m sure must be as impressive as the backs of their Adonis-like bodies?

They turn around and catch me bent over and tilted sideways, trying to peer between their legs from behind.

Three sets of eyes, from dark stormy amber to alluring emerald and mysterious gray, all with angular jaws set amidst mouths too sensual for words, stare at me as if I dropped out of the sky, naked.

I ignore the fact that each one of them is, in four words, incredibly bone-melting gorgeous and chose instead to psychoanalyze myself.

What is actually wrong with me? Was I really trying to sneak a peek at their ding-dongs? I wouldn’t know an impressive penis from a non-impressive penis if they were shoved in my face simultaneously. Also, I’m a virgin. What am I doing?

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