I have a reputation.
Girls fall over themselves to be with me … except one.
The Market Girl, that's what I call her, and I can't resist her.
Up until a few weeks ago, light flirtatious banter was all that was between us.
One-sided flirting - my side.
But it worked.
We worked.
Then the busy-body Quylt sisters paired us together to volunteer.
Planning local senior citizen events, of all things.
Who would've thought by the end of the first event we'd be naked in the theater dressing room, and she'd be screaming out my name?
Not me.
