So what if my work clothes looked like something out of Sandra Dee’s closet? It wasn’t like I dressed to please him. Actually, it was just the opposite. I dressed this way to keep men like him away from me. It was an added bonus that it was for his own safety…even if I kept that information to myself.
I shook my head passively, then started past him, insulted by his comment. “It’s fine,” I said drily.
He reached out and gently touched my arm to stop my movement. “Anna, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just meant you have a good figure. I can see it, despite your clothes.”
Silently, I glared at him.
“Uh, I mean…I can see through your clothes.” Then he cringed and breathed out a few expletives.
“Good to know,” I told him, my tone suddenly drought-worthy. I snatched up the book on the counter that he’d given me to hold the night before and shoved it into his chest. “Here’s your book, superhero. Now maybe you can use your telepathic abilities to read my mind.” I walked away from him and kept going until I’d crossed the room and put some distance between us.
From there, I studied him inconspicuously as I pretended to straighten the books on the shelf before me. I rolled my eyes. Good with the ladies, my ass!
Cowboy rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head as he carried the book to the nearest table and sat down. He opened it to where he must’ve left off the night before. Once he looked determined to focus on the task at hand, I reluctantly circled back and returned to the circulation desk…and to my own work. The stack of romance novels I’d devoured over the past week and brought back to the library were piled high on the desk, waiting to be checked back in.
During my teen years, romantic fiction had become my favorite genre, mostly because it was so much better than my own reality. The library’s shelves brimmed with romance-filled tales of brave heroes slaying fire-breathing dragons and sweeping fair maidens off their feet. But I didn’t need a dashing hero on a white horse to save me from anything. I could ride my own damn horse, thank you very much.
I’d given up on finding love. Not that I’d ever done much in the way of searching for it. With love, came loss. And I wasn’t willing to lose—or readily give—another piece of myself to anyone. I’d seen for myself what kind of damage a man could do to a woman’s mind, body, and soul. Much less a girl’s heart.
A half hour went by before an elderly lady from the Genealogy Society approached my desk to schedule their monthly meetings for the Rotary Room. I smiled at her, then spotted Cowboy leering at me from ten feet away. Somehow, I had unknowingly blipped back onto his radar. My stomach twisted with nervousness as my trembling fingers wrote down the meeting dates the woman gave me.
After she walked away, I busied myself by filing forms into the bottom cabinet. Okay, so maybe I was ducking to keep him from looking at me. Whatever.
A few wispy strands of my hair slipped free from the clip on the back of my head and hung down in my face while I worked. As I pushed one back, I remembered the way Cowboy’s fingers had grazed my cheek the night before and shivered. His slight touch had left me with a pleasant feeling, but it wasn’t something I could allow myself to indulge in. Part of why I was steering clear of him and coming off downright antisocial like an ungrateful shrew. It was easier that way.
As heavy footsteps approached, I straightened in my chair, bumping my head on the desk. I winced and gave it a quick rub, glancing over to see if anyone else—basically Cowboy—had noticed. He tipped back in his chair, an amused grin playing on his perfectly stupid lips. The prick.
Ignoring his smug look, I smiled sweetly to the gentleman standing at my desk and offered my assistance. He was one of our regular card-holders and I’d seen him almost daily since I’d started there. Once I finished helping him check out a crime novel he’d reserved, the kind old man gave me a quick pat on my hand to thank me and moved along.
I glanced back to Cowboy and caught an odd look on his confused face. It was a what-the-hell expression, if I’d ever seen one. Setting his teeth, he rose from his seat, picked up his book, and headed in my direction.
My gaze immediately darted back to my computer screen.
“Mind if I pester you for a minute?” he asked.
“Did you have a question…about the book?” I kept my eyes forward and my tone polite and professional.
“I have a lot of questions, actually, but none are book-related.”
“Then I’m busy,” I replied, not showing even marginal interest in him.
“Anna…?” When I didn’t answer him, he reached across the desk and brushed my arm, sending my nervous system into overdrive. I jolted out of my chair, which made his mouth contort into a perplexed frown. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I just…don’t want you to touch me.” Jeez. When did I become such a liar? “Now if you’ll excuse me…” I walked away from the counter and headed down one of the aisles before he had a chance to follow me. I weaved through the maze of bookshelves until I came to a dead end in the back corner of the library.
Breathing heavily, I hid behind a bookcase, monitoring him discreetly through the shelves as he combed the aisles searching for me. I knew it was silly to hide. Like a child, really. But I needed a moment to calm my nerves and build some much needed courage, which only made me feel more foolish.
It was the same reaction I’d had at eighteen when I’d spent two weeks working as an activities coordinator at a nearby summer camp. Bobbie Jo had been a counselor, as well as one of my bunkmates, and the two of us had hit it off.
That’s where I’d met Cowboy.
The guys’ quarters sat on the opposite end of camp, but first chance Bobbie Jo had, she introduced me to “her boys,” as she called them. Jake had been her boyfriend at the time, but the others—Ox, Judd, and Cowboy—were her best friends. It wasn’t until later I found out she’d roped them all into applying as a counselor so they could spend their last two weeks together before Jake left for college.
Upon meeting them, all of them were nice, of course. But Cowboy had been the one who stuck out in my mind all these years.
Right after I’d stammered my way through the mortifying introductions, one of the other female volunteers had stopped by with a camera and asked us all to smile for a group photo. Without hesitation, Cowboy had winked at me, slung his heavy arm over my shoulders, pulled me close into his warm body, and grinned devilishly for the camera. That was the moment I’d fallen for Prince Charming himself.
After the photo, when he tried to disengage his arm, his gold watch had caught on my shirt sleeve, lifting it slightly and revealing a small patch of red skin on the inside of my arm. With heated cheeks, I’d quickly yanked my sleeve down and tried to hide it by fidgeting with my clothes. It was too late.
Cowboy had noticed and said, “What’s wrong with your arm? You get into some poison sumac or something?”
When I didn’t respond, he shrugged it off and flirted with the cute blonde behind the camera. I’d wanted to talk to him, make him see me, but hated the idea of drawing attention to myself. So I said nothing.
After that incident, I’d clammed up whenever he was near, which had only been a few more times. I decided avoiding him altogether would be my best option if I wanted to form coherent sentences for the duration of my stay. But that didn’t stop me from spending the next two weeks stealing glances at him from the shadows of my cabin window while every girl at camp threw themselves in his direction.
When camp had come to an end, I’d exchanged information with my new friend, Bobbie Jo, and over the years we’d kept in touch, sending pictures and letters back and forth. That’s how I’d received my own copy of that very photo—the same picture that had sat on my nightstand in a wooden frame for the last ten years.