Hate at First Sight

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s arrogant men.
Attractive arrogant men?
Even worse.

Like the guy at my local lap pool—the stupidly attractive, off-the-charts-full-of-himself guy who just tried to steal my parking space.
Then he had the nerve to get out of his car and confront me about it.

Well, look, I did what I had to do. He knows exactly what I think about him, his fancy car, his tailored suit, and his beautiful, annoying face.

Okay, fine. I can admit there was a bit of chemistry.
A lot of chemistry.
Hate-filled chemistry, which I’m sure would be great in bed, if I could ever stoop so low as to actually sleep with him.

Doesn’t matter.
I’m not giving him the parking space, thank you very much.
I’m sure he has one reserved for him right in front of whatever soulless, swanky building serves as his office.

End of story.

Except I find out he does, in fact, have a spot reserved in front of a swanky building.
My swanky building.

Because Mr. Parking Space is my new boss…
…and hate-filled chemistry really is best worked out between the sheets.