The backdoor had barely clicked shut when a voice startled the shit out of me.

“You refused my offer for a drink.”

I whirled, my fingers digging into my purse for my pepper spray, my pocketknife, or even an eyeliner pencil sharp enough to do some damage, to find the good-looking stranger waiting for me.

So totally not cool.

“What the fuck?” I hissed, managing to find my pepper spray and point it at him. “What are you doing waiting for me like some stalker?”

“Calm down,” he said as if I were the one being unreasonable. “I’m not here to drag you off down the alley.”

“Yeah? So ambushing someone at two in the morning is totally normal in your world?”

“Not usually but sometimes you have to make exceptions for extraordinary circumstances.”

“Look, asshole, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but sometimes you’re going to strike out. I’m not interested in you, okay? Move along.”

He chuckled as if I were cute. “Why did you refuse my drink?”

“Are you kidding me? Are we really doing this? You’re freaking me out and I'm about to call the cops in about two seconds if you don't back off.”

“Jumpy, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, especially when strangers accost me for refusing their offer of a drink.”

“Accost you? A little dramatic, don’t you think? We’re just talking.”

He had a point. He didn’t seem all that dangerous but his actions were throwing me off. I mean, c’mon, who waits outside of a dive bar for a date? No thanks, creeper stalker dude. I don’t care if you look like an angel, you’re freaking me out. “Look, I'm flattered that you seem to like me but I'm not interested. I'm gay and I have a giant bull dyke girlfriend who gets very jealous when anyone looks cross-eyed at me so do yourself a favor, save your balls and just leave me alone.”

“Where’s your ride?” he asked.

“I take the subway.”

“A little late don’t you think? Seems a little dangerous.”

“I’m touched that you care.”

“Let me give you a ride.”

“Your Murder Van parked around the corner?” I said before shutting him down. “No thanks. I prefer the subway.”

“Looking to end up a statistic? The subway at this time of night isn’t the best way to get home. If you won’t let me drive you home, let me call you an Uber.”

“I’ll admit the concerned gentleman act is a nice touch but—“

“I never said I was a gentleman,” he corrected me with silky smoothness, sending a shiver of unwanted awareness down my skin. “But you interest me enough to want to see you safely home.”

“Why are you interested?”

“My reasons are my own.”

Okay, I was done with the Twenty Questions Game. The ache in my feet had progressed to an angry throb. I just wanted to climb into bed but I sensed that if I didn’t at least let him call an Uber…he’d never let me leave.

Exasperated, I slapped my thigh, with a huff. “Fine,” I said. “Call me an Uber.”

His slow smile was sensual as fuck — and the last thing I wanted was my insides to react to but my stomach did a suspicious flippity flop that always begged for trouble. “Already done. Your car awaits.”

As if summoned by magic, a mid-sized sedan pulled into the alley with the Uber sticker in the window. The man flashed his cell screen. “Does this look like your driver?” he asked me.

I compared the driver with the picture on the screen and nodded, still wondering how he got that Uber so fast but I had to admit, riding home without having to keep my knife clutched in my hand, was a plus.

“Thanks.” I returned my pepper spray to my purse, readjusting for a better fit on my shoulder. “Well, um, yeah, this has been super weird but I’ll accept your offer of the Uber. Goodnight.”

I didn’t wait for his reply as I climbed into the awaiting vehicle. “Home Jeeves,” I muttered to the driver, giving him my address. “And step on it. This guy is mucho creepo.”

I closed my eyes, ready to put the whole night behind me.

Why did the cute ones have to be whores, psychos, or gay?