The next afternoon, I drive slowly down Main Street after stocking up on groceries, taking in the sights of Copper Mountain, fall leaves swirling on the wind. I pass lake where small boats are docked, rusted old pickup trucks with trailer hitches parked nearby. I pull into a small park and watch the waves lick the shore, my mind wandering.
A car door slams a few spots down from me, catching my attention. I glance over, and my heart sinks.
Son of a bitch.It’s him.
Of course, it’s him. What are the odds? He’s talking to someone at the edge of the parking lot and I can’t help but watch as they shake hands. Then he moves around the bumper and spots me.
My stomach flips, and I turn the key in the ignition, praying the car starts so I can get out of here. The engine sputters but doesn’t turn over.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, slamming my head against the steering wheel. Please, please don’t let him see me.
I try again. Nothing. “Come on,” I whisper desperately, but it’s no use.
Suddenly, his voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me, Precious.”
I groan inwardly, my eyes rolling up to meet his infuriatingly smug expression.
“You’re an ass,” I snap, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
He chuckles, leaning in through the window, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. Heat floods my cheeks, and I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. I turn the key again, and this time, the engine roars to life.
“Until next time,” he calls out as I pull out of the lot, his grin still etched into my brain as I speed away.
Chapter Four
Pope
The air smells of fresh-cut wood and the earthy tang of sawdust. I swing the hammer, feeling the satisfying thud as it hits the beam, but it does little to distract me from the tension building inside. The sun casts long shadows across the half-built library, and somewhere in the background, I hear footsteps—light and purposeful. Of course. Ruby.
She arrives with her notebook clutched to her chest, like she’s holding a shield. Not that she’d ever admit she’s shielding herself from anything. She’s too damn stubborn for that. Ruby’s the kind of woman who walks right into the fire, not backing down even when she should. I should admire that. Hell, maybe I do. But today, her presence is grating on me. After our unexpected run-ins at the park and the hardware store, I’ve had trouble keeping her precious face out of my head. I didn’t sleep well last night, and the idea of seeing her again has left me rattled, to say the least. This woman is under my skin and I can’t figure out quite why. I’ve never met anyone like her, the calm way she confronts me is intoxicating–I’m one intimidating sonuvabitch and no one has ever stood up to me like Ruby does.
“Pope,” she starts, her voice cutting through the rhythmic sound of my work. “We need to talk about the layout near the children’s section.”
Her tone is calm, professional, but something about the way she says “we need to talk” pushes all the wrong buttons. Maybe it’s because she always shows up when I’m in the middle of something. Or maybe it’s just because she’sher.
I drop the hammer onto the beam with a sharp clang and turn toward her, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “Now’s not the time, Ruby. I’m busy.”
She’s unfazed by my shortness, of course. Her lips press into that determined line she gets when she’s about to push back. “It’s always the time, Pope,” she says. “This library is important, and if we don’t get the layout right, it’s going to affect how people use it for years.”
My irritation flares, the frustration bubbling over. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been building things my entire life. I don’t need someone coming around telling me how to do my job.”
The words come out sharper than I intended, and the moment they hit the air, I see it. Ruby’s posture falters, just for a second. It’s so subtle I almost miss it—the way her shoulders stiffen, the way her grip tightens around the notebook until her knuckles turn white. But it’s her eyes that get me. There’s a flicker of something in them, something I’ve never seen before. Fear.
I’ve seen Ruby stand her ground in a storm of my frustration more than once, and she’s never flinched. But now... now she’s different. Her gaze flickers, guarded and hesitant, as if I’ve crossed a line I didn’t even know existed.
I step back instinctively, my own irritation draining out of me like someone pulled the plug. That flash of vulnerability in her eyes... it knocks me sideways. Ruby is always confident,stubborn even, but right now she’s standing in front of me like a woman ready to bolt. And it makes me pause.
I swallow hard, the words coming out quieter than I expected. “Ruby… I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine,” she says quickly, too quickly. She brushes me off with a tight smile, but her voice trembles at the edges. “I’m fine.”
She’s lying. Anyone with half a brain could see it. But I don’t push. Instead, I take another step back, giving her the space she clearly needs, and lower my hands from where they’d been gesturing heatedly.
“You don’t have to be ‘fine,’ you know,” I say, my voice softer now. The bite’s gone, replaced by something else. Concern. I don’t know where the hell it’s coming from, but it’s there, and I can’t ignore it. “If something’s going on, you can talk to me.”
She shakes her head, and for the first time, she’s not meeting my gaze. Her eyes are darting around the site like she’s searching for an escape route, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her usual confidence, the thing I’ve grown used to sparring with, is crumbling, and all I see now is someone trying desperately to hold themselves together.
Something’s wrong. Something more than just me raising my voice. My stomach knots as the realization settles in. This isn’t about the library. This isn’t even about me.
