“You didn’t answer me,” he calls out after I take a few steps. “What are you doing out here so late?” he asks. It’s forward of him and I usually despise that, but instead I savor the challenge in his voice. Something about it tells me he thinks I’m already his. And that ownership makes my blood that much hotter.

I know I shouldn’t give him any information at all, but I find myself telling him the truth before I can stop myself. “I’m hungry and overworked. So I stopped to grab a bite to eat.”

“You’re getting your dinner from here?” he asks, gesturing to the store and I nod. “A woman like you should be taken out, not eating dinner from the gas station.”

A woman like you plays over and over in my head. He doesn’t know what type of woman I am. “You don’t even know my name,” I say, the half smile and challenge firm on my expression.

He nods and grins, flashing me a cocky smile as he replies, “Don’t make me guess.”

I chew on my lip for a moment, rocking from side to side. He’s bad news and I’m flirting with fire … but I love the thrill. I can’t deny it. “It’s Kat,” I tell him and a smile is slow to form on his face. One of complete satisfaction, as if hearing my name is the best thing that’s happened to him all night.

“I’m Evan,” he says and I taste his name on the tip of my tongue, nearly whispering it. “Let me take you to dinner, Kat,” he suggests with an easiness I don’t like. I wonder how many times that’s worked for him before.

“I’m not your type,” I respond, intentionally looking past him at the bars that wrap around the glass door to the convenience store. I just need a late-night snack to hold me over till morning. That’s all this little errand was supposed to turn into.

“I don’t think you should tell me what is and isn’t my type.” Although it comes out playful, there’s a hint of admonishment, and my naïve little heart doesn’t like that. “You might be surprised,” he adds.

I clear my throat and try to breathe evenly, wanting this flirting session to end so I can get back to work. I have to admit the attention is very much appreciated, though. And the desire in his eyes looks genuine.

“Sorry, Charlie, didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him with a playful pout as I walk past him.