Page 8 of Rogue's Path

“Do you know anyone with a sports car?”

Dahlia shrugs. “I was thinking we’d find one while bar hopping.”

Logical. Though her husband owns a nightclub. It’s probably a law that he owns something sexy and sleek.

7. Sing Karaoke.

That sounds like fun. “Have you found a karaoke bar yet?”

“Three. I’m waiting to hear back if any of them can take a reservation at this late a date.”

8.Ask a stranger for marriage advice.

Oh, what a great dare.

9.Do a group dance.

Sounds like fun. “Do you have a dance picked out?”

“No, I want something easy, but fun.”

10. Tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

That only happens on the television, right?

11.Hug a man with a beard.

Um, now we’re getting into scary territory.

12. Kiss a stranger.

Oh my! “Do you think someone is going to kiss a stranger?”

Dahlia shrugs.

We start giggling.

“What caused that beautiful noise?” A monster of a man walks in. His muscles have muscles, and everything about the man screams run for your life.

Except he’s smiling at Dahlia like the world revolves around her. That has to be her husband, Maverick. If it wasn’t for that semi-terrifying smile, I would have thought she’s gone insane.

“Dylan and I are talking about our plans for the weekend.” She sets down her fork and walks over to him, pushing up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips.

But there’s nothing soft about this man as he pulls her in for a long kiss that ravages her lips.

Definitely glad I kept my hotel room. There’s no way I want to stay around these two for more than a few hours at a time.

Maybe less. Don’t they need to come up for air sometime?

Breathing seems like an essential task. I guess not when you’re kissing a man like that. Or maybe that’s how he kept her dizzy enough to agree to marry a guy who looks more like a killer than an entrepreneur.

Nightclub owners are supposed to be slick in tight suits that are made by designers with funny names from foreign countries. This man looks like he eats a dozen eggs every morning to get large enough to crack skulls.

Though if a man kissed me like that, I’d probably marry him, regardless.

Does Maverick have a brother?

Why do I feel the uncontrollable urge to ask that question? I’m perfectly happy with my life just the way it is… Maybe without the stalker.