C1 Chapter 1

I always looked back to our first meeting with fondness, the day Jules breezed in and unhinged my quiet life. The winter had dragged and even at February, snow lingered on the streets and nipped the air. I sat tucked away at the back of a little cafe, head bent over my drawings like usual, when he walked in, tall and darkly handsome with a magnetic air that drew all eyes. He had black hair clipped at the nape and sun bronzed skin, sleeves rolled up to show off a pair of sculpted forearms. And they were pretty spectacular forearms, in the quick glimpse that I allowed myself before looking away. The guy had confidence etched into every step. I was a quiet wallflower who shied away from people like him.

I went back to my sketching pad on the table, drawings of the scenery outside sprawled across the pages. The chilly spring morning had pedestrians rushing about to escape from the cold. Their frenzy pace stood stark against the soft, drifting snow, and my fingers itched to capture the contrast. A shadow draped over the table and I looked up to see the aforementioned pair of forearms leaning on the other side. They were even more sculpted up close, but I forced myself to look away.

Curse my weakness for strong arms.

I glanced up to meet swaths of olive skin, a defined nose, and stubbles over a square jaw. Dark eyebrows framed heavy set eyes lit with warmth.

Two dimples flashed as he smiled in greeting, turning his face from handsome to breathtaking. I already knew I was in trouble.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, pointing at the empty chair across the table. His voice was deep and confident, with a lilt that said he wasn't a native to Toronto.

I smiled politely and he took it as permission to sit down. Long legs kicked out underneath, brushing against mine before pulling back.

“Excuse me,” he said, though there was no hint of apology in his grin.

I laughed in spite of myself. “No other tables available in this cafe?”

“None with a view like this,” he said, meeting my gaze.

My cheeks warmed from his attention. He watched with rapt focus as I tugged back my long hair, and I felt unhinged that this handsome man would be interested in me. There was no shyness to him; I couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to take on life so surely.

He leaned forward to look at my sketchpad. “The details are remarkable, you even included all the street signs.”

My cheeks warmed. “It’s the little details that make a picture come to life.”

“Do you mostly draw landscapes?”

“I dabble in portraits too. Sometimes animals, sometimes people. But scenery is always a fun choice.”

Full lips stretched into a white grin. Deep brown eyes met mine and I couldn't look away. His fingers crept forward, brushing the edge of my notepad. “And do you take commissions as well?”

I ducked my head, feeling another wave of shyness hit. “No, my drawings are a hobby only.”

“But what if I were to, say, ask for a picture from you, would you do it then?”

“You can have this doodle I’m working on now.”

He chuckled. “I want a proper drawing, one that was done with me in mind when you looked down at the paper.”

I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed now by his attention. This was why I didn't believe in opposites attracting. His bold energy nipped at my quiet morning. My ordinary weekends weren’t scripted to include handsome men flirting up a storm. I began packing up my things, needing a breather from this stranger unhinging my routine.

“Wait.” He reached out for my hand as I stood, his fingers gentle but firm against mine. They were warm and neatly clipped at the nails. The world fell silent as, ever so briefly, I marvelled at the steadiness of his touch.

“I apologize if I come off too strong,” he said. “Please stay a bit. I just want to get to know you more.” He saw the hesitation on my face and gently pressed, “Or at the very least, tell me your name.”

I didn't know how to react to this man, with his warm smile and dark eyes. But neither did I want to let go of his hand, to lose the touch that made the world go quiet. “I'm Katherine. My friends call me Kat.”

He flashed those dimples again, as if reading my acquiescence. Grabbing a pencil left on the table, he scribbled on the corner of my notebook.

“Nice to meet you, Katherine. I'm Jules.” That low timber washed over my senses. “Call me.”