“I can’t believe I left my rosin at home. Can I borrow yours sugar?” Onnie Belle asked, batting her eyes at me. She had painted her lips the same color as her burgundy hair, and she looked like a goth southern belle, if that was even a thing. I handed it to her then focused on taking even breaths to calm myself before Serge arrived. I’d hurt his feelings, I knew I had, but I was petrified of the attention I’d get if anyone caught on to us. It was also dawning on me that what was going on between us was definitely more than physical. I mean, yeah, my body instantly responded to the sight of Serge, but there was so much more to it than that. His cocky attitude and swarthy good looks served as a smokescreen of sorts, deflecting attention from the real man underneath the surface. Serge had all
