I wasn’t supposed to end up in a stranger’s bed.

The plan had been simple: put on the red dress my best friend swore made me look dangerous, go to the bar, drink until the ache in my chest dulled, and prove to myself that being left at the altar six weeks ago hadn’t broken me beyond repair. One night. No names. No numbers. No expectations.

I lasted two drinks before he sat down beside me.

He didn’t ask if the seat was taken. He didn’t offer a cheesy line. He simply ordered a whiskey, neat, and glanced at me with eyes so dark they looked almost black in the...