Page 1 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)

How did my friend’s sister end up in my arms?

A few minutes ago, I was surrounded by six single women, minding my own business in a popular restaurant in Richmond, Virginia.

Blissfully ignorant of what was happening behind me, I didn’t know Josie had arrived and taken the seat I’d vacated at her brother’s table.

I wasn’t looking for her. I’ve trained myself not to.

But I should’ve seen her coming. Should’ve felt the shift in the air, the prickle at the back of my neck. Then again, even if I had, nothing could have prepared me for that tap on my shoulder.

Since the day she took Jordan home from the hospital after his accident, our conversations have been strictly clinical, sticking to only updates about his recovery. Nothing more, as if the electricity bouncing between us doesn’t exist.

Then she threw five words at me tonight that detonated the illusion. “Would you like to dance, Sergeant?”

There were two possible answers.

I chose the wrong one.

I fucking said yes.

And now, Jordan, my brother-in-arms and closest friend, watches us from the shadows, jaw tight, eyes like live grenades. He knows me. Knows I would never betray him.

But the way my hand splays across his sister’s back? Yeah. That says otherwise.

She fits against me like the hours I held her at the hospital carved her shape into my muscle memory. I tell myself this is the last time I’ll touch her. I can let myself enjoy it for this one song. It’s harmless. We’re in public. Not crossing any lines.

But this is Josie. The woman Jordan talked about so much, I feel like I know her.

Her hair, golden curls cascading down her back like sunlight, brushes over my arm. She smells of strawberries and sugar, hope and goodness, and the combination hits like a heavyweight punch to the chest.

She’s a bright light, and I’ve lived in the dark so long I barely blink anymore. Yet, something about her sweetness calls me from the depths. Tempts me. Weakens my defenses.

And that’s another reason why I need to stay away. In my world, gentleness gets you killed .

Her hands glide up my arms to settle on my shoulders, lifting her shirt from our height difference. My thumbs move without permission and brush over the exposed skin above her jeans. And just like that, a familiar ache kicks in. The one I buried after the first time I touched her.

She tilts her head back, eyes holding mine until they drop to my mouth. Her lips part slightly, caught between a breath and a decision. I waver in the same limbo.

I’m a man, after all, holding the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I want to kiss her. Hard. Deep. The kind of kiss that makes her forget every other guy who’s had the pleasure of holding her. But that’s instinct. Wanting her is easy with her body heating mine through my thin T-shirt.

“Hayes.”

My name sounds like a plea, and my service reflex has me bending down to hear why. Her breath skims my ear, shooting sparks down my spine. They settle a bit lower—somewhere I wish I could ignore.

“Can you walk me to the ladies’ room?”

I straighten. Not sure what code that’s supposed to be. But the tender way she looks at me—uncertain and almost afraid—stumps my refusal impulse.

I’m afraid she could make me do just about anything with those eyes.

I nod, and she takes my hand, leading us off the dance floor and through the crowded tables like this is normal for us. There’s nothing normal about the way my hand burns in hers or how badly I want to hold her again .

Outside the restroom, she leans on the door. “Thank you. I’ll be right out. Don’t leave. Please.”

She waits for my promise, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. I can’t think when she does that.

I nod, the motion seeming to satisfy her enough to duck inside.

Left alone, my brain shifts into overdrive. Of all the possible reasons why she’d ask me to wait, given what I know about her, each one I consider wrecks me a little more.

I’ve spent my entire adult life around combat-hardened women—sharp, fearless, intense. They don’t ask for help unless shit’s about to go sideways.

Josie’s different. She’s vulnerable and kind, soft in the ways I’ve forgotten exist.

And dangerous for a guy like me.

The door creaks open minutes later, and Josie steps out, looking smaller somehow with her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes find mine, darkened with so much left unspoken.

I feel it too, beautiful , my brain spits out, and I swallow down the sour aftertaste. Once again, it’s the wrong damn answer.

She’s bathed in a muted glow from the restaurant behind her, creating a picture that sends my thoughts spiraling back to the day we met.

To the way she clung to me while the doctors filled her in on Jordan’s prognosis and cried so hard in my arms I thought she might break.

I couldn’t leave her like that. I held her through the night, not knowing what else to do.

I shake off the dangerous memory. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry for dragging you over here. I have a—”

The door flies open behind her, and she jumps out of the way, slamming into my chest. I catch her without thinking. Both arms lock around her before she ricochets off, her face inches from mine. Hands pressed against my chest.

She doesn’t move. Neither do I. I can’t.

Her pulse picks up speed, and her breathing shallows as my body matches her intensity, excited to have what it’s been begging for. My hand goes rogue and slides lower down her back until it finds skin.

Then, I remember. I don’t do reckless things with people I care about. This isn’t some girl in a bar I’ll never see again.

I ease her back, creating much-needed space between us. “Ready?”

She stares at me, an evolving storm behind her eyes rolling in fast. Confusion, shock, and maybe a touch of disappointment flashes one after the other.

Did she want me to kiss her? Is she mad that I didn’t?

I follow her through the crowded restaurant, pretending to survey the area instead of the graceful sway of her hips. She doesn’t look back, doesn’t speak, doesn’t stop when we come to the table where she found me.

That stings more than I care to admit, but it’s better this way. I stand to lose too much. My friend. My code. My peace.

Besides, we don’t make sense. She’s the kind of girl who paints the world in color. And I’m a man who brings the rain.