Page 59 of Surprisingly Us

“I started it a few years ago. Did the lake first on my chest, then kept adding to it from there.”

“For your parents.” Her eyes lift to mine and seeing heartfelt sympathy in those pools of blue nearly knocks me off balance.

I nod, my throat suddenly constricted with emotion. I don’t talk about my parents. There’s no one to talk about them with. My grandfather has never been the type to get emotional orreminisce, he’s more of the mind what’s done is done and move on. While I did therapy early on to address the trauma of losing them, I was a teenage boy who didn’t want to open up and felt more comfortable pushing down my emotions. Out of sight, out of mind.

Lettie’s fingertips dance over the ink on my bicep and immediately my skin turns to gooseflesh. I didn’t expect her touch to affect me this way. Featherlight traces on my skin as she makes her way over the curve of my shoulder and across my collar bone. I remember how intense the pain had been when my tattoo artist had done that part. How the physical pain had brought up so much emotion that I’d immediately pushed it back down again.

Even as I watch Lettie’s fingertips make their way down toward my chest, her destination clear, I’m not anticipating the reaction. Her fingernails trace lightly over the trees and my nipples tighten in response. Then, her hand splays out over my left pec, her palm pressing gently into my skin that is covered by the inky water of Lake George, right above my heart.

A sharp pain pierces my sternum and radiates through my chest. Beneath Lettie’s palm, my heart thumps wildly. Erratically.

What the fuck is happening to me?

My reflex is to grab her wrist. To make her stop making me feel whatever the hell this is.

She steps back, but my hand is still holding her wrist, keeping it at a safe distance, like it’s a branding iron that’s going to burn me.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

I drop her wrist. “It’s fine. I—”

Before I can attempt to explain what just happened, a loud meow sounds at our feet, cutting the tension between us. It’sMo. He’s been coaxed out of hiding and is now rubbing his body against Lettie’s legs.

“Aww. There you are.” Lettie scoops the brown tabby up and snuggles him to her face. “Hi, Maurice. Or do you prefer Mo?” she asks, cuddling him to her chest.

I’m relieved that Mo came out of hiding, even more so that he helped break the tension in the room. I watch them for a moment, then turn away to open a drawer and pull out a t-shirt, still trying to understand what just passed between me and Lettie.

Many women have touched me there before, explored my skin and my tattoo, but Lettie’s hands on me felt different. It ignited something in me that I’m not ready to address. And while my tattoo has been healed for years now, it’s what’s underneath that is still wounded and scarred.

She sawme.

The longing. The loneliness. The hurt.

I pull the t-shirt over my head, letting it serve as a barrier between me and Lettie and these unwanted thoughts. This moment is a reminder that I need to keep my relationship with her in the shallow end, close to the shore, and not wade out to deeper water.

I need to keep things light and fun, and that’s what I plan to do.

CHAPTER 16

Colette

I give Mo’s back another stroke before he walks off. He sniffs along the carpet as he tentatively explores the rest of the space. His behavior reminds me of when I first brought Maxine home to my apartment, like he’s seeing everything for the first time.

“What’s in the bag?” Rhys asks, entering the living area pulling my attention from the brown tabby.

He’s wearing a shirt now.Thank god.

Being around a shirtless Rhys is not for the faint of heart. And that undone button on his jeans? Ridiculously hot, yet also unnerving because why wouldn’t you finish fastening your pants? It’s utter madness.

And speaking of things that are irrational, I wonder if I was imagining that there was something crackling between us a minute ago in his closet.

I’d been exploring his tattoo. Taking in the way the artist had perfectly captured the dreamy summertime landscape of our youth. The only major difference being the black ink and its various shades of gray that muted the typically vibrant colors of Lake George.

When my palm spread over his smooth skin, I’d felt his heart beating rapidly beneath it. I’d been surprised to witness the restof his body respond to my touch. The way his nipples pulled tight and his breathing became shallow and uneven. Then he’d grabbed my wrist and it had felt like I’d encountered an electric current.

Dangerous yet exciting.Alive.

It had me wanting more.

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