Keegan was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “Who is that with you?” His voice was laced with a curiosity I’d never heard from him.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Ask him his name.”

“No, look, I need to go. I’m soaked and there’s coffee all over the ground. I’ll talk to you later.”

He sighed. “Fine. Call me later, and think about coming out with us. Love you, sis.”

“Love you too,” I said quietly, and dropped my phone into my already full purse to take the napkins from the guy’s hands. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he should try to clean me off, or if he should let me do that. So I made the decision for him.

“What did you have? I’ll get you another.”

I looked up at his face, and tried not to scoff at his amused expression. Watching him until he finally looked up from my damp shirt, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t worry about it, this is probably a sign I shouldn’t have stopped for coffee.”

I’d started bending down to clean up what had made it onto the floor, when he grabbed my arm. My body froze from its descent, and I stared at his full sleeve of black tattoos before slowly looking up at his dark eyes. They were almost black, and held mine captive until his lips moved again. The amusement was gone from his face and tone, his deep voice now gruff as he spoke. “I’ll get that, this was my fault.”

“I turned into you, it’s mine.”

“I shouldn’t have been standing right behind you.”

We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, before I snapped back to reality. Pulling my arm from his grasp, I took a step back from him and looked away from his intense stare. Clearing my throat, I hitched my purse higher up on my shoulder and searched for a trash can.

“Can I please buy you another drink?”

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

He laughed awkwardly and looked around for a second. “I’m trying to make up for spilling your drink on you . . . and you’re making it really hard.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath in and out before turning back to him. I knew I was coming across as a bitch, but I hated asking for help, and didn’t like when ­people offered it. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful for ­people, it was just the idea of not being able to handle a situation by myself left me feeling like I was seconds from panicking.

Offering him a forced smile, I tried to keep the strain out of my voice when I said, “I appreciate your attempt at reminding me that chivalry isn’t dead, but I really am fine.”

Grabbing his drink off the counter, he offered it to me. “Then will you take mine?”

My next smile wasn’t forced. “Thank you, but no.”

“You’re really going to leave me standing here feeling like an ass**le?” I might have felt bad if he wasn’t smirking at me.

“I’m sure you’ll live. Have a good night,” I called over my shoulder as I walked past him.

His hand grasped my elbow, and my breath came out in a soft huff. His hold wasn’t menacing, and even though it should bother me to have a stranger touching me, it didn’t. But I absolutely refused to think about why my skin felt like it was on fire where he was holding me.

“Can I at least have your name?”

My voice came out breathy, and I silently cursed myself and his dark, mesmerizing eyes. “And why would you want that?”

“Excuse me, miss?”

I looked over at the barista, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the man’s eyes still on me.

The barista lifted up an iced latte before setting it down on the counter. “Saw what happened, this is on me.”

“Thank you so much,” I whispered to her after I pulled away from his hand. I hope she understood just how grateful I was for this. Looking back at the guy, I unnecessarily showed him the new drink and shot him a smile. “Well, I guess that solves that. Thank you for everything anyway. Have a good weekend.”

My smile fell and a short huff left me when I began walking away. What the hell was that, Reagan? I liked being in control of situations and my emotions, and the longer I stayed in his presence, the more I’d felt myself losing control of all of it.

Reaching for the bar on the door, I felt a warm chest brush against my back at the same time a tattooed arm shot in front of me and pushed the door open.

“So, how about that name?” he asked huskily, and a smile crossed my face as a shiver worked its way through my body.

Turning to look up at him after we were outside, I shrugged and shook my head, but I still couldn’t contain the smile on my face. “What good would it do for you to know it?”

“Humor me.”

Biting down on my cheek, I raised one shoulder and started walking backward toward my car. “I’m just the girl covered in coffee. Good night.”

I was also the girl who couldn’t get him out of my mind even hours later, when I got in bed. His short dark hair, near black eyes, cocky smirk, and lean, toned body covered in tattoos were all I could see when I closed my eyes that night.

Coen—­August 13, 2010

“THERE HE IS,” Hudson’s voice boomed when I walked over to the table he was sitting at with his girlfriend and a few more ­people I’d never met before.

I slapped his hand and ordered a beer before the waitress could step away. “Hey, man, sorry I’m late. I had to run back to the studio and change.”