Unknown (Unknown Series Book 1) by Wendy Higgins

truly felt shy with him, like maybe he was a different person, like he could see into my mind and know all the thoughts I’d had about him. Tater hugged me tight, tossing me side-to-side like a ragdoll, even though I was a solid 5’5 and muscular from school athletics.
    “Looking good, Pep,” Rylen said from behind him, reaching out to yank a lock of my hair while I was being held by Tater. I wiggled away and smacked his arm. He laughed and pulled me close, holding me tightly. Oh, holy crap . . . that familiar scent of him. The feel of him, all hard muscles in his back, his flat, hard stomach pressed against mine, strong, heavy arms draped over my shoulders. My hips instinctively wanted to mesh upward against his. I abruptly pulled away, afraid I might rub against him like a cat in front of my family.
    Mom bumped me out of the way to hug him next. As the living room filled with family, all smiling and talking animatedly, I just watched Rylen. I wanted to soak in every detail, not knowing when I’d see him again. His hair was shorn close to his scalp, with the front part slightly longer than how Dad kept his. He wore a T-shirt that fit his arms and chest so spectacularly, it looked like it was tailored for him. Cargo shorts hung from his hips to his knees, showing off his sculpted calves. And then he was wearing ugly slip-on Adidas sandals, which almost made me laugh. His feet were long, always had been, but for some reason even his long feet made me feel hot right now. I blinked and looked away. Having dirty thoughts while surrounded by your chattering family was just wrong.
    Mom and Abuela went to the kitchen to start cooking—we’d feast tonight on carne asada and then play cards and dance for hours—and Grandpa Tate and Dad took Tater out back to show them Grandpa’s new rifle. Rylen hung back, making me immediately nervous and excited by the way he sized me up. I crossed my arms over my tank top, just as I had when I was fourteen. Stupid Nevada heat.
    “Thanks for writing me,” he said softly. “Means a lot.”
    “Yeah . . . you too.” My heart swelled thinking of all the letters I’d received from him, his messy scrawl laced with loneliness, always asking me to please write back and tell him every mundane detail of my life. Which I always did.
    I eyed the bottom of his T-shirt sleeve. I thought I’d seen something when he lifted his arm.
    “Did you get a tattoo?” I asked.
    “Oh, yeah.” He started to pull up his sleeve, but it was too tight, so to my absolute wonder he pulled his shirt lazily over his head and turned to the side. A shiver of pure arousal went through me at the sexy sight of his glorious skin and the markings he’d chosen—from the rounded tops of his shoulders, down the backs of his arms to his elbows were black, tribal designs swirling thickly and ending in intricate spikes. They were the sexiest things I’d ever seen.
    “Ry . . . those are amazing.”
    “Thanks,” he said softly. He started to put his shirt back on, but hesitated, his back still to me. “And I got one more . . . but it wasn’t as thought out. Don’t be mad.”
    Okay, now he was making me nervous.
    He slowly turned and I saw a two-inch red chili pepper on his left pectoral, above his heart. I rocked back on my heels.
    OH. MY. GOD.
    He quickly tugged his shirt back down and gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I drank a little too much sake in Japan. That was my first tat.”
    OH. MY. GOD.
    All I could do was stare stupidly as he peered at me, waiting.
    “What made you get that?” I whispered.
    His head drooped like he was embarrassed, and I hurried to say, “I mean, it’s totally cute—”
    Now he threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, cute. That’s what the guys say too.” He shook his head. “I guess I just needed a reminder of home.”
    My blood was buzzing. My nickname had been needled into Rylen’s chest. Over his heart. Forever. I was his reminder of home.
    OH. MY. GOD.
    “You got any?” he