Page 11 of David

The fabric falls smoothly over the planes of his body, having no problem highlighting his broad shoulders and muscular frame.

He’s taller than average, and he has that confidence about him I only saw in James Sexton, Ed Preston, and Lex Harrington.

He looks familiar in some weird way. Because he looks like them.

Or he reminds me of them.

Hmm.

See… That’s precisely why I don’t want to go to Thea’s wedding.

As much as I love her, am happy for her, and don’t want a man like hers––not because he is not handsome, wealthy, and in love with her––but to me… Uh… This whole thing reminds me that my life will never look like hers.

I don’t even know where my life is headed.What can be more confusing than this?

I’m sitting in a coffee shop, trying to write something that doesn’t want to be written while being critical about someone I haven’t even met.

Why does he look so familiar?

I must have seen him around town, and I can bet my money he knows or knows of James Sexton.

This area is a magnet for this type of man.

He flicks his gaze to the side, and the bright sunlight shining over his handsome features makes me gasp when I notice his arresting eyes.

The sky boldly reflects in them. Clear, mystifying blue that could easily shackle your soul.

Who is this man? And why does my heart race, apparently knowing more than I do?

My pulse is frantic.

I don’t know who he is, yet I already have mixed feelings about him.I only know I’m obsessed with him and could watch him talk on his phone forever.

I'm even checking on his driver, who is making small talk with the barista.

Hopefully, he’ll spend more time inside while the espresso machine drips steamy drops of goodness into the porcelain cup.

My focus goes back to the man outside.

Dark chestnut brown hair sets off his dreamy eyes, and a cute dimple pops up above his upper lip when he flashes a smile.

My eyes linger on his chiseled jawline while hard–to–catch words roll off his lips. I begin to think his playful grin might have to do with a woman.

Still talking, he slightly shifts and flicks his gaze over his shoulder. Perhaps he’s checking the store or if the driver is doing his job.

He doesn’t seem concerned with much as he continues his conversation. My eyes rove over the starched collar of his dress shirt and the silky fabric of his sky-blue tie.

His suit is tailored, modern, and sexy. It is made of expensive fabric in a dark shade of blue gray.

His tie highlights his white shirt, kissable lips, and five o’clock shadow.

He wears the stubble as an accessory, nothing hinting at a lack of time to rest and groom himself to perfection.

These men are born like this.

To my dismay, the driver picks up his boss’ drink and says goodbye to the girl serving behind the counter.

I watch him grab his boss’ coffee and head back.

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