“What the hell is wrong with this guy?” I muttered to myself, barely containing my laughter. It wasn’t just a laugh; it was full-blown cackling. I was doubled over, hands on my knees, my stomach aching from the hilarity of the situation.

  This stranger was accusing me of stalking him. Sure, he was attractive, but not appealing enough to warrant stalking. All because we happened to be in the same places three times? Really? And yet, he’s calling me delusional? Despite everything, I had to admit, he was a strange but undeniably hot stranger.

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Umm, what?” I said out loud, trying to wrap my head around his accusation.

  “You heard me,” he said, blocking my way with a tense expression. “Why are you following me?” He spoke in hushed tones, as if he didn’t want anyone else overhearing this ridiculous exchange.

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  The café was nearly empty, save for a few workers eavesdropping as they brewed coffee. They were probably finding this to be the most interesting conversation they’d heard all day.

  “I assure you, I wasn’t following you, stranger,” I said, leaning in with a playful grin. “But now I kind of wish I had been. You, my good sir, are hot as hell!”

  He blushed slightly, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “The name's Dominic," he said, extending his hand. “And you can’t just go around calling people hot. It's a bit weird.”

  I shook his hand, my smirk deepening. “The name's Missouri. Care to join me?”

  Dominic eyed me like I'd lost my mind. “Why would I sit with someone I’ve accused of following me? Are you sure I’m the insane one here?” he said, turning to walk away.

  Before he could go, I grabbed his hand and slid into a booth, pulling him along with me. “Well, my dad always says we’re all a little insane.”

  Dominic hesitated, then chuckled reluctantly and joined me in the booth.