67
A.J. leaned even closer to me. “I don’t. Have. A f*****g. Accent.” He enunciated each word, each syllable, his gaze burning mine. All the tiny hairs on my neck stood on end. An intuition that A.J. had his own set of dark, dangerous secrets blossomed in my stomach, setting my nerves alight. “Ookay,” I said on a shaky exhalation. “But even if you did, I won’t mention it to anyone else. Your past is your own business.” “We weren’t talking about my past. We were talking about you hearing something that’s not there.” We were almost nose to nose at this point. I thought people might be beginning to stare. My temper flared; what an asshole! “Actually we were talking about Chloe. And she was right about you.” He blinked. Hostility drained away from him as fast as it had come. “She mentioned m
- Writer
