![]() Her dye studio, which also served as her flat, was in a revitalized area. It sucked that Addie walked this old neighborhood alone. Julian breathed a sigh of relief as the kid disappeared back into the shadows. He started to retreat, but then his eyes met Julian’s, and he hesitated for a second. Julian’s accent charmed the pants right off them.Ī kid with his jeans halfway to his knees slunk out of an alley and squinted in their direction. ![]() Texas women, however, were another story. The southern men she encountered thought they were being scolded by her attempts at light conversation. ![]() While Julian was a natural chameleon and could adopt a convincing Texas drawl whenever he wanted, Addie’s accent was sharp and pronounced. Unlike Julian’s, Addie’s clipped British accent hadn’t been softened by her years in the States. They’re probably pretentious, stuffy snobs.ĭon’t take that the wrong way. Of course, he agreed, suppressing a grin. I’m not worried about you shagging my friends, Addie said. ![]() He reached in his pocket for the comfort of his guitar picks. Julian’s nerves, however, sizzled with electrical currents from all the activity. She didn’t notice the cars slowing to let passengers off, only to cruise the block and pick them up farther down the street. Addie marched along at his side, seemingly unaware of the young men on the corners slapping palms and hanging out. Julian lowered his gaze to his black Tony Lama boots and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Glancing across the street, he spotted the first dealer of the evening. He should have worn a T-shirt, especially with Addie’s insistence on walking in this heat, but a night at Slammers warranted a vintage sixties Van Heusen dress shirt-green and gold stripes-untucked to look casual. He unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled them above his wrists, exposing the beginnings of the dark tattoos that snaked up the lengths of his forearms. His long-sleeved shirt was already soaked through. It was dusk, a humid San Antonio evening, and the sounds Julian saw as swirling colors took on the shimmering quality he associated with a sweltering Texas summer. They walked down the cracked and uneven sidewalk. Though he had to admit, freak was easier to say than synesthete. For one thing, it made them uncomfortable. It wasn’t cool to look at things other people couldn’t see. He also pretended not to notice the clouds of green and blue mist floating in the air around them. I’m not interested in shagging your friends, Addie, so don’t worry, Julian said, pretending not to notice his sister’s nervous tics. Look what I did!Īnd to the men in my life: Jeff, who still melts my heart with a strum on his old Martin acoustic or the black Les Paul, and my father, who would like the world to know he raised me better than this. To my sister, Janet, the queen of romance novels. Manufactured in the United States of America Visit our website at Select Contemporary is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.Ĭopyright © 2015 by Carol Pavliska. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Check out more titles from Entangled Select Contemporary…
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