Page 63 of Flirty Fall Fling

I take his hand in mine and turn it over. I don’t need the mirror to feel Jamie’s eyes burning into me. I trace one line with my fingernail while Cole stays very still.

“This is your lifeline.”

It’s deep and long, wrapping wide around the base of his thumb.

“Does it tell you when I’ll die?”

I chuckle. “No. That’s just a myth. It tells me you live full throttle. You burn energy like it’s free.”

He smirks, tilting his head. It’s flirty. Too flirty. “That’s true.”

“You take a lot of risks.” I tilt his palm toward the bar light, and there it is—a clean break in the line, healed over with another line running beside it. “Did you have an injury at some point? Something major?”

Cole’s face softens. “I had a football injury sophomore year of college. That’s why I …” He stops. “How is that in my hand?”

“You’d be surprised what else is here.” I move my nail up to the top of the palm, the line running beneath his fingers. “This is your heart line. Yours starts under the index finger, which means when you commit, you give it your all. You’re a keeper, Cole from Denver. But see this here?” I press the little linked islands in the line, and he leans in close. “You fell in love once, and it went wrong for you. It was devastating.”

He doesn’t say anything in response. That’s how I know it’s true.

“You’re good at this,” he says.

I shrug. “And to think, this isn’t my specialty.”

People hold out their hands as a joke and go quiet as soon as I say something that resonates with them.

“What is this one?” He points at it.

“This is your fate line.” I trace the vertical crease climbing the center of his palm. “Self-made. You picked your work because it fulfills your soul. It suits you.”

Then I tip his hand a last few degrees to the fine, short marks on the edge below his pinkie. The whole picture assembles itself, and I look up at him.

“There’s a woman you’re trying to forget, and you almost asked her to come this weekend, but decided against it,” I say.

The intuition is really flowing tonight.

He exhales. “We work together. It’s very complicated.”

“It’s really not.” I fold his fingers closed over his own fortune and pat his fist once, like I’m keeping his secrets. “It’s not too late. Have your last little hurrah before you commit. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Wow,” he says, a little hoarse. “You’re the real deal.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder. “I am.”

“Blaire.”

Cole looks at me and leans forward. I move an inch, but don’t let his lips touch mine.

I smirk, holding his chin in place. “There’s no rush.”

He laughs. “You have this vibe about you. It’s … intoxicating.”

“I’ve been told that a time or two.”

I down the rest of the bourbon, and Cole orders us another round. Our bodies are close, touching. In the mirror, Jamie’s smirk is gone. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms, and his eyes are locked on me. The drink he had sits empty on the edge. His jaw is set firm. That was the line for him, and, damn, do I know that feeling. But honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to get under his skin.

The moment puffy vest touched his arm, I had to walk away.

Cole leans closer. “Okay, real question. Can I get your number? I’m here all weekend. I’d love to take you out.”