Page 4 of Somehow You Knew

I swallow past the lump in my throat, trying to figure out if this is really happening or if Keely does, in fact, slip something into her coffee.

“You want to draw on me?”

He nods while pulling a marker from his pocket, uncapping it with his teeth.

Jesus. Was that supposed to be that hot?

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say, I have a list of things I’m trying to cross off, and this is one of them.”

“A list?”

He nods. “Yup. So, care to help me?”

Watching as he gently takes my hand and places the tip of the marker against my forearm, I debate if this is as harmless as it seems. I mean sure, I don’t know this guy, but it’s not like he busted out a tattoo gun.

As the heat of his touch sears through my skin, I nod, unable to stop myself even if I wanted to. My mind spins as I wonder how the hell my choice to work at the coffee shop today has turned into the most exhilarating interaction with a stranger I’ve ever had.

And not just any stranger. Ahotstranger—the type of man wet dreams are made of.

He flashes me that smirk again, the perfect boyish charm to counterbalance his rough exterior. “Excellent.”

I lean forward, studying his every move and memorizing every detail of his face, willing myself not to forget any aspect of this moment. “Wh—what are you going to draw?”

He lifts his eyes to mine just long enough to say, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, you’re no fun.”

He chuckles. “I might have heard that a time or two.”

Silence grows between us and butterflies take flight in my stomach as my mystery guy zeroes in on the drawing he’s sketching on my skin. The pinch in his brow is so deep that I wonder how he doesn’t have wrinkles. But then again, he can’t be much older than me. His nails are clean, his hands are remarkably soft, and after he drags the marker over my skin, he goes back over what he drew with his thumb, smoothing and buffing out the lines, like he has far too much experience doing something like this.

A piece of his dark hair falls over his forehead, coming apart from the combed back style he walked in here with. His jaw is covered in black stubble, the kind that offers beard burn in the most delicious way, a way that I’m fantasizing about the longer I sit here and watch this man mark my skin with intense concentration.

But when the marker stops moving and sits back to admire his work, I look back down at my arm to see what he drew—and my stomach drops.

“What do you think?” he asks as I fight to keep my composure, the sting of tears building behind my eyes.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I manage to clear it and meet his eyes. “It’s beautiful.”“Not bad for a marker, huh?”

I drag my finger over the lines. “It’s remarkable.”

Before I can say anything else, he stands from his chair, staring down at me with that same pinch in his brow, like he’s just as confusedby this encounter as I am. But all he says is, “Thanks for helping me out.”

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he’s gone, leaving me staring after him in stunned silence.

Chapter two

Hazel

One Month Later

“No woman is ever going to be good enough for you,” I whisper, staring down at my nephew, my heart swelling as his tiny fingers curl around mine. My vision blurs, but I refuse to let the tears fall. Not here. Not today.

My oldest brother, Dallas, steps closer, pride radiating from him as he gazes down at his son. “That’s an odd first thing to say to your nephew.”

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