Faye Vaughn had no idea that the handsome, distinguished man on her mind had just walked into the convenience store.
She was tipsy, propping her chin on her hand and muttering to herself.
"You jerk, ignoring me."
"You don't text me back, so I hope your instant noodles don't come with a flavor packet."
"Oh, wait. Wyatt Hawthorne never eats instant noodles."
She mumbled, crinkling her nose before huffing and taking another gulp of alcohol.
Soon, the 30-milliliter bottle of brandy was empty.
That was about the extent of her tolerance for alcohol.
By the time Wyatt Hawthorne came up behind her, she was already swaying unsteadily, her body tipping backward.
A pair of strong, powerful arms caught her.
She turned her head and gave him a dopey smile. "The you in my dreams cares more about me."
She reached out to touch his face, rubbing it haphazardly while slurring drunkenly, "How can such a handsome man have a heart as hard as a rock?"
