When Lightning Strikes Read Online Free PDF Page B

wearing tights with a loose-fitting top that said, "aim true" across the front with an arrow. I had Choctaw way back in my bloodline, probably not enough to even mention it, but my dark eyes and high cheekbones made me look like I had more of it in me than I actually did—certainly more than either of my brothers. Anyway, I liked that feature about myself, and tried to play it up most of the time, so I had a few shirts with arrows.
    "Thanks," I said. "For the compliment and the flower," I added taking the flower from him. He held the door open for me and we stood in line to order our coffee. I glanced behind us every time the door opened, but Patrick never came in. We sat down at a small table I chose strategically based on its view of the cash register.
    We hung out for the better part of an hour before I said I needed to go so I could meet a friend for dinner. It was a partial lie since plans were loose and they were just with my roommate, but I could tell he wanted to ask me to get something to eat with him, and I didn't want to have to say no.
    I was about to stand up to leave when none other than Patrick Mallory walked through the door. I took my purse off the back of my chair and began to dig in it as both an excuse to stay for another minute, and an outlet for my sudden nervous energy.
    "Seems like I was about to tell you something…" I said absentmindedly trailing off as I rifled through my bag. I glanced at Stewart and then risked a quick peek in the direction of the register. There wasn't a line, so Patrick was already approaching the clerk. I nervously glanced into my purse again and continued digging.
    "Did you remember what it was?" Stewart asked.
    I made a face like I was trying really hard to remember. "Was I going to give you someone's phone number or something because I'm thinking my digging through my purse has to do with what I was gonna tell you." Basically I didn't even know if what I'd just said made any sense, but Stewart was smiling when I glanced at him again, so I thought I was okay.
    I risked another glance at the register before I allowed myself one last look in my purse, and low and behold, Patrick was looking straight at me. He was at the bar waiting for his coffee, but definitely looking at me when I glanced over.
    I squeezed out a smile, but quickly looked down. There is no way to describe the devastating nerves I felt right then. I had already announced that I needed to leave, so Stewart was in the processing of standing and pushing his chair back under the table. I began to do the same thing, but I heard Patrick's voice.
    "Mia?" he asked.
    I stayed in my seat and glanced up at him with a smile. "I was wondering if that was you," I said as he approached.
    He was at least as tall as Stewart, and the two of them shook hands. "What are you doing here?" Patrick asked looking down at me. I watched as his eyes roamed to the daisy that was sitting beside my coffee cup and then back up at me.
    His expression was unreadable as he shifted his attention to Stewart and then back to me. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and I knew he was saying the word, "Really?" in a sarcastic way even though he was completely silent.
    "I'm Stewart," Stewart said, seeing the awkward eye contact.
    "This is Patrick Mallory," I said. "He's the guy who did my tattoo."
    Stewart pointed at him and nodded excitedly. "That's right, I thought you looked familiar. I saw you on my friend Paul's Facebook. You did his tattoo." Stewart motioned to his own arm as if tracing his friend's tattoo. "It's a mountain bike with a tent and a sunset in the background."
    Patrick spared him a half-smile. "I do a lot of mountain bike tattoos around here, as I'm sure you can imagine."
    I couldn’t help but compare the two guys as they stood next to each other. They were both nice looking guys, but Patrick looked sleek and dark like he might own a nightclub while Stewart looked more like he was about to get on a yacht.
    "Patrick!" the barista yelled