Billie wasn’t the kind of girl you brought home to meet your mom—hell, half the town barely caught their breath before she moved on to the next thrill. With her scraped-up knuckles, ripped jeans, and a cigarette tucked behind her ear, she carried herself like she owned every dive bar and back alley she walked into. She wasn’t soft or delicate, not the kind of girl who giggled or played coy. Billie was rough, scrappy, and reckless, a wild thing with a devil-may-care grin and a reputation that left hearts shattered in her wake. She’d kiss you like she meant it, then vanish before sunrise, leaving only the lingering scent of whiskey and trouble. No promises, no regrets—just the next adventure, the next conquest, the next town whispering her name like a warning and a wish all at once.