“We have a little problem out here.” A beautiful problem.
Sam, the owner of the restaurant, is bent over a plate full of food, making it perfect. “You might want to go and get some help,” her sister Fin says quietly to me. It’s the pity that makes me look to her sisters. Some with lustful intent, because she’s fucking beautiful with her face flushed and her dark hair streaming down her back. The customers at Reeds, the restaurant owned by former pro football player Sam Reed, are watching her. If I was…well…the way I was before, I’d grab her and carry her out of there. I don’t know what I can do from my seated position. Her sisters, Finch and Lark, are begging her to come down. She ignores me and spins in a circle, her four-inch heels scratching the surface of the piano. It’s hot as hell and I’ve never seen anything I want to sit and stare at more. Well, it’s more like wiggling than dancing, with lots of hip shaking and waving arms. And third is a drunk girl on a grand piano. Second, it’s my own fault I’m in the chair.
First, there’s the fact that I’m in a wheelchair.
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