chapter two HOT LUMBERJERK Blaire “My name is Blaire, not Alice, thank you very much.” I want to smack myself for that terrible, unimpressive comeback. I blame my inability to come up with something–anything–better on thinking we were in the middle of an earthquake, the loss of one of my precious unicorn martini glasses that I honestly cannot afford to replace, and this ax-wielding hipster. Oh, did I forget to mention that beyond the fact that he’s filthy and dressed like some kind of GQ lumber-jack, he’s also incredibly good-looking? “Well, Blaire, you’re standing in the middle of a construction zone, and I’m pretty sure those shoes don’t meet the required code, so you can march them right back out the door.” He uses the axe handle to point to my heels–which are adorable and surprisingly comfortable. I take a step back. “Pointing is rude.” Where the hell has my quick wit disappeared to? “So is trespassing.” “I knocked, more than once, but with all the racket going on in here it’s not really a surprise that no one heard me, is it?” I’m irritated and gathering steam, thanks to my embarrassment, residual fear, and frustration over the problems this…
