It's all the little things--the action plans, the long-kept promises--that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos. After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh's arms, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming. Meet Matthew Walsh. A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do--unless, of course, she was naked. She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway, and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.