Excerpt: 'Untouched' by Lauren Hawkeye

Lauren Hawkeye shares an excerpt from her latest, Untouched, book one of her Florence, Arizona series.

Lauren: A pet peeve of mine is reading or story (or watching a movie) with "perfect" characters. You know the ones I'm talking about … slick, beautiful people who have no real conflict. When I first starting thinking about writing Untouched, I knew that I wanted to write a book that was the exact opposite — characters that were both flawed and very nearly broken, characters that found the strength to heal only with each other. With that in mind, I'd like to introduce you to Nate and Alexa, the hero and heroine of Untouched. I hope you like the following excerpt!

Excerpt for Untouched …

"Can I help you with something?" Her words came out with a little more force than they could have, and Nate couldn't help but smile. Two socially awkward humans, trying to decide if they wanted a flirtation. If they weren't careful, this would quickly devolve into an episode of The Big Bang Theory.

"I need some flowers." Nate said the first thing that came out of his mouth, then winced. Way to be original, Fury. Bet no one's said that to her before.

But to her credit, the woman just nodded. "Anything particular in mind?" With a jerk of her head indicating that he should follow her inside, she stooped to prop open the glass door with a large grey brick, then entered the shop.

"I'll take whatever you think is pretty." Nate followed her in, not above taking a surreptitious look at the sweet curves of her backside as he did. He'd been so depressed for so many months, and attraction of any kind hadn't been able to fight its way through the dark.

But this woman? Something about her was different.

"Okay." The woman exhaled loudly, and Nate thought she looked relieved, which puzzled him a bit. The confusion only thickened as he watched her move around the shop.

She just didn't seem very comfortable in her surroundings, opening three drawers before locating a pair of clippers, and bumping her curvy hips on the edge of the counter, the garbage can, the cash register every time she turned around. More than that, every bloom that she picked up was held gingerly between thumb and forefinger, as if she didn't have a clue what to do with it and more, was maybe a little bit nervous.

Fascinated, he watched as she worked. Like she'd done outside, she spent an inordinate amount of time comparing colors, even muttering to herself as she worked. But when it came to arranging the stems together, she was clumsy and awkward, finally cursing under her breath and jamming the mass of green together.

"Christ," she muttered to herself as she held the bouquet up in front of her and surveyed her handiwork. Nate felt his lips twitch and struggled to hold back a smile when she stomped toward the front counter and held out her creation with a huff of her breath.

What was her story? Why was she here? He was dying to know.

It wasn't his business. Part of why he'd changed jobs was to surround himself with anonymity. Caring led to pain, and he'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

"How much?" He pulled his wallet from his pants pocket. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I can't charge you for this." Together they surveyed the undeniably ugly bouquet.

Some of the stems were broken, and twisted at awkward angles. The rest of the stems had been forced together so tightly that Nate felt his own lungs quiver for breath in response. The heads of the blossoms… they'd been packed together like sardines in a tin can, one giant ball that did nothing to emphasize each flower's delicate beauty.

"It's not that bad." He felt his mouth curl into a half smile—he had a hard time managing a full one these days, though right now he was close.

The woman's eyes met his over the top of the bouquet, and they were full of disbelief. He couldn't help it—he barked out a short laugh.

"No, really. The colors are nice." And they were—the time she'd taken over that had paid off, the big ball of blooms' only saving grace. "I'm happy to pay for them."

Anything to make her smile, though why he felt the driving need, he wasn't entirely sure. More than the desire to see her face light up, Nate felt that intense curiosity, which he finally gave in to.

"So, what's your story?" Her head snapped up, and he knew he'd been blunt. He couldn't help it—it was just how he was. But he did curse a bit internally as he warned himself not to scare her away.

"I beg your pardon?" Wariness shadowed her face as she thrust the bouquet into his hands and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Classic defensive body language.

Well, in for a penny. "You clearly don't know your way around. I've never seen you before. Did you just move to town?"

His eyes met hers, noted the suspicion in hers. "Are you a cop or something?"

"Would it matter if I was?" He knew he couldn't read too much into her defensiveness, though something about her was setting a quiet alarm ringing in his head—some people were just naturally skittish around law enforcement.

"Would it matter if I cared?" She countered, raising her chin and not backing down. Nate liked that spark of spirit, and the way it broke through the haze of grey that had surrounded him for so long.

With another half-smile, he held his hands up, palms out. "Not a cop. Just interested."

Just interested. What did he mean by that, exactly? He was breaking his anonymity rule here.

But something about her just wouldn't let him leave it alone.

She broke his stare, studying the bouquet intently as she studiously tried to rearrange one of the stems. He was certain that she was dodging the question, and was trying to think of something to say to get them both out of the awkward mess, when she lifted her head and pinned him with that intent stare of hers, the one that said not only was she observing, but she was seeing.

"I'm watching the shop for a few days. For my… sister." She stumbled over the last word, and though Nate wanted to know why, he told himself he'd done quite enough pushing already.

He opened his mouth; to say what, he wasn't sure. But then she shook her head, as if to shake herself out of her uncertainty, and looked up at him through the thick tangle of mink colored lashes.

Something in that look hit him square in the chest. It was something more than her looks, though she was an undeniably attractive woman. But this—this was some connection. One of those indescribable instances in which two people are pulled together, and nothing they do can stop it.

Find out more at www.laurenhawkeye.com.