That I was going to marry Summer Thomas was a certainty. I just needed to meet her, and then everything else would fall into place.

Both of my friends thought she was plain, but they were looking at her boobs and ass and legs and hair and that sort of thing, completely missing her eyes and that elegant neck and those expressive hands with long, thin fingers. Summer was a beanpole, I couldn't deny that, long, lithe, and lean with little points for breasts and a straight drop from her shoulders to her ankles.

But those eyes!

You'd think gray eyes would be cool and composed, but hers were nearly...