Page 30 of Surprisingly Us

I hope it’s not my neighbor, Ricardo’s, ex-boyfriend. He’s been known to cause drama and I really don’t want to deal with him today.

As I inch close, I find it’s not Jimmy. No, the man sitting on my apartment building stairs is dressed in light blue shorts and a short-sleeve button-down with two large flamingos on it. One on each side of the placket. My eyes are immediately drawn to his left arm where black ink is covering nearly every inch of his skin.

Trees. Mountains. A lake. All woven beautifully together.

There’s something about that tattoo that makes my stomach clench.

The sight of the majestic landscape in addition to the muscular forearm and bicep it’s etched onto.

When my gaze finally connects with his face, even with the designer shades covering his eyes, I recognize his chiseled jaw and wickedly handsome smile.

I hadn’t expected to see them again this soon. I also didn’t expect the way my body tingles at the sight of him there.

“Rhys?”

CHAPTER 8

Rhys

I check my watch. I’ve been waiting on the stairs of Lettie’s apartment building for an hour. It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday. I can’t imagine where she’d be. My only saving grace is the iced frappuccino I’m sucking down.

A legging-clad set of legs stop in my line of sight. I’m tempted to lower my sunglasses to get an unobstructed view of those toned cheeks, but they turn too quickly.

“Rhys?”

The leggings are talking to me. My eyes jolt up to meet their owner.

It’s Lettie.

She’s dressed in a gray cropped tank top and the ass-hugging leggings, of course, her hair is tied back into a ponytail, the waves from last night still evident. She’s got a backpack over her shoulders and a clear jar with a straw and some thick, dark green liquid in it.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Good morning to you, too.” I stand and extend the paper cup to her. “I was in the neighborhood. I brought you a coffee.”

“I don’t drink coffee.” She shakes the cup of green sludge in her hand as if that explains why she doesn’t need caffeine. “Athletic greens.”

She takes a long pull from her straw, and I watch as chalky flecks in twenty different shades of green fight their way up the clear tube.

“Okay. More for me, I guess.” I take a swig of the rejected black coffee and nearly choke. Disgusting. I pull the packets of raw sugar I’d taken from the coffee shop in case they were needed. They’re needed.

Lettie watches me dump the packets in then pull the straw out from my iced coffee and stir it.

“Where are you coming from?” I ask.

“Yoga class.”

“That explains the leggings.”

“Leggings aren’t just for yoga. I wear them most days.”

My eyes drop to her legs. Last night, they were hidden by her long, flowy dress. She’s a professional dancer, so it’s expected that she’s fit, but seeing the smooth, supple curves of her muscular thighs and the way the tight material grips her firm ass is causing an unexpected reaction. I’m used to looking at women I’m attracted to this way, but I’m not used to directing these thoughts at Lettie.

Until last night.My brain reminds me of all the ways I’d noticed Lettie last night. How the familiarity of the girl I’d known growing up morphed into a rush of excitement at the woman she’d become.

“Um, how was yoga class?” I ask, reminding myself why I’m here.

“Good.” She shrugs. “It’s what I do every Sunday morning.” Her eyes run the length of me, stopping on my shirt. “Flamingos, huh?”

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