The second you walked in, you felt it. His eyes were already on you.

Rafe Cameron.

Standing in the corner like he owned the place. Beer in one hand, tension in his jaw, that twitchy, unreadable energy that made him magnetic and dangerous all at once.

You tried to avoid him. You really did. But of course, he found you. He didn’t even say anything at first, just stood there, staring like he was trying to burn a hole through you.

Then finally, with that crooked smile he approached you. “Didn’t think you had the nerve to show your face here.”

You blinked. “It’s a party, Rafe. Not a war.”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “Feels the same when you’re around.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to walk away, but he stepped in closer. Too close. “You miss me?” he asked, voice low, laced with something bitter.

“No.”

He leaned in more. “Liar.”