And to make matters worse, he looks good doing it—too good.
Joey DeLuca should have been nothing but a maddening memory, a blip on my radar during my three month sabbatical in my small hometown while I get back on my feet.
My time back home was supposed to be simple. Easy. Fast.
But he’s everywhere I go, invading my thoughts, and stealing my attention.
Is it possible to hate the same person I can’t get enough of?
Is there really an exception to every rule?