Catastrophe Queen

Or me, in this case.

With my half-uncurled hair and a dirty pair of panties with flamingos on them still tucked into my sock, even as I placed my order at the counter in Starbucks.

It really wasn’t any wonder that I was single.

Although, part of that was not my fault, but my ex would tell you differently. I took no responsibility for his issues when it came to getting his soldier to stand to attention. Those were all on him, no matter how many times he tried to claim otherwise.

For all I knew, he’d caught something from one of the women he’d been sleeping with behind my back.

Again: that was also not my fault.

The dirty undies in my sock? My fault. Lying cheat of an ex with a problem getting his cock hard? Not my fault.

Not initially setting the alarm on the Alexa for every day?

Totally my fault.

I took my coffee from the counter and scanned the room for an empty table. There wasn’t one, which killed my chances of wasting more time before I went home.

With a sigh, I checked my phone for the time and headed for the door. I was going to end up at home earlier than I’d planned, and I needed to check with my mom to make sure there wasn’t anything kinky happening somewhere in the house.

I’d considered bleaching my eyes enough in the last few weeks, thank you.

I was reasonably sure I was safe because my grandfather and great aunt were coming to stay to celebrate Grandpa’s eightieth birthday. It was still a miracle my exhibitionist mother shared DNA with either of them. They were ornery and grumpy and fought every ten minutes, but they didn’t flash their flesh in the hopes of getting out of a speeding ticket. I wouldn’t put it past Aunt Grace, though, on second thought.

Really, it was no wonder I was a walking disaster.

I pulled up my messages and clicked on my mom’s name. My thumb was poised to type the burning question of whether or not it was safe to come home when I glanced up.

And saw the car screeching to a stop, mere inches from me.

I screamed and stepped back. My heel caught on the curb, sending me toppling backward, and both my coffee and phone went flying. My cup slammed against the sidewalk, splattering hot liquid everywhere right as I managed to save my phone from certain death by concrete.

My heart was beating so fast it should have exploded, and adrenaline raced through my veins. I gripped my phone against me so tightly that the edges pressed painfully into my skin.

Oh my God.

I’d just almost died.

Maybe slightly dramatic, but I probably wasn’t far wrong. I didn’t even know I’d stepped into the road. When had that happened? Had I really been in that deep into my own little world that I hadn’t even checked for traffic?

Dear God.

How was I still alive?

The back door to the sleek, black car that somehow hadn’t run me over swung open. From my vantage position on the sidewalk, the first thing I saw was a pair of shiny, black shoes attached to legs wearing perfectly-pressed, light gray dress pants.

I dragged my gaze up from the feet, over the door of the perfectly clean car, and stared at the most handsome man known to humankind.

Thick, dark, wavy hair covered his head, curling over his ears. Lashes the same dark shade of brown framed impossibly bright-blue eyes that regarded me with a mixture of shock and concern, and my ovaries about exploded when he rubbed a large hand over full pink lips and a stubbled, strong jaw.

“Miss—I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Scrambling to my feet as he approached me, I tugged down the leg of my pants and grabbed my purse. “Yes. I mean—it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

He let go of the car door, showing broad shoulders and just how well that gray suit was tailored to him and picked up my coffee cup. “All the same, I think we can share the blame. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Just my dignity, and by this point, I was running low on it anyway.

I shifted, taking a step back. “I’m fine, really. Thank you.”

“Can I replace your coffee? Give you a ride anyway to apologize?” His expression was so earnest, his concern so genuine that I almost gave in.

Almost.

I had almost walked into the front of his car, then proceeded to embarrass myself in front of everyone on the street.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m not far from home.” I clutched my phone and purse straps a little harder. “Again, thank you, but I should be going.”

He nodded as if he understood. “Uh, miss? Did you drop something there?”

My eyes followed the direction Mr. Dreamboat was pointing. On the side of the road, tucked against the curb, was a pair of white, cotton panties with flamingos on them.