WESTLEY

Oh, boy. I’m in big trouble.

I WAS SUCH a pig for treating the only guest we had so badly. My words just came out strong and wrong. Although, I must admit that I did it on purpose.

To be honest, Clyve was hot, yet you couldn’t see an aura of a cocky playboy from the city who had only one goal in life—to get into your pants.

His classic short hairstyle was light brown—almost blond. His blue eyes surrounded by long lashes were mesmerizing that I could stare and fantasize at them all day. They were not a boring hue, in fact, when our gazes locked; it scorched...