Monsters. Plural.
Of course, I’m out here waving around my rather kinky interest in being double-teamed by fancy penises to a stranger.
Now that we’re both standing, the size difference between us is truly something to steal my breath and my sanity. He’s gotta be well over six foot, and the way I barely see eye to eye with his impossibly broad chest leaves heat rapidly pooling between my legs. In order to look at those oh, so gorgeous eyes and jawline of his, I have to tilt my head back. A motion that leaves me swaying off balance a little.
“Better?” He gives me a long look, then for the briefest flicker of a moment—as if he’s been battling with himself andfinally gives in—those amber eyes drop down my figure, before snapping back up to my own.
The tiniest hint of pink hits his cheekbones, and oh my god, the fact that he just checked me out, then seems to be flustered about it, is surely not possible.
Not. Possible.
I’m the quintessential curvy, soft, librarian girl. No matter how much I exercise, my jiggle still jiggles, my tummy still has a rolling curve to it, and I’ve never once known a thigh gap. Yet, he makes me feel delicate next to him. I’m eating up every second of just how damn strong and secure it feels to stand beside this man. Something I didn’t quite know I had such a visceral response to, or appetite for… until now.
“Yeah… much better. Thank you.” My mouth is so dry, it takes a whole lot of effort to mumble my gratitude for his kindness and attentiveness, when he could have easily carried on with his life and ignored the sight of me slumped on the floor.
“So, three days at Mistwood Ranch, huh?” He says it slowly, as if there’s some detail in there he’s poring over. Swirling it around like two fingers of aged bourbon inside a glass.
“Yup.” I give a slightly forced smile. “Well, that was the original plan. Then my friend broke her ankle, abandoning me to this whole vacation as aflying solosort of thing. More fool me for thinking it would be a fun escape. Mountains. Snow. Nowhere to go and no place to be.” I wave my hand around, well aware I’m kind of babbling to fill the silence. “Now I know I really should have spent the holidays wearing three pairs of socks and double sweats while curled up at home with my books, even without central heating… but here I am.” I babble.
“Without central heating?” He repeats it slowly, concern coloring his tone.
“Just for the holidays. My landlord needed to fix it. The damn furnace thing keeps breaking.” Yeah, I’m officially talkingfast and awkwardly because this man is simply too hot for his own good, and I feel like I should probably run outside and roll around in the snow to cool off.
Cowboy opens his mouth and closes it again, while hovering in front of me. For a brief, pulse-fluttering moment, it seems as if he’s about to ask me something. My eyes bounce between his, silently willing him to say whatever it is he’s thinking… except my powers of persuasion are non-existent. This handsome as all hell stranger clears his throat, scrubs over the back of his neck once more, and steps back.
My ovaries howl in protest.
“Nice to meet you. I gotta go,” he mutters. “Stella is waiting for me.”
Oh god. Of course, this man isn’t single. His girlfriend, or presumably wife, is waiting for him. Did he have a ring on? I didn’t see it, but that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made that mistake. My report card isn’t particularly stellar on that front.
He disappears from the row of shelves so fast I’m left blinking at the space where he stood only a moment before. Only the drifting scent of cedar and citrus lingers in the air to give me any tangible evidence of him having been there.
Did I imagine all of that?
Damn.
Looks like my bad luck and constant companions of loneliness and singledom are gonna keep slapping me on the back. Twin bogeymen following me around, laughing at my dejected state.
Happy hellish holidays.
At least I’m surrounded by a cornucopia of book boyfriends. So while I shake off the disappointment of our littlemeet-cutebeing all in my head, I keep on browsing the shelf in front of me a little longer. Maybe I’m sad and desperate enough that I stay, hoping he might come rushing back immediately.
Unfortunately, not.A travesty.
After finding another few monster-fucking masterpieces to add to my stack, I pay at the counter and chat briefly with the lovely woman who owns the store. She tells me all about her upcoming double hip replacement in the New Year, before showing me photos of her three chihuahuas. Eventually, I pluck up the courage to depart the safety and comfort of being surrounded by books.
Shoving my beanie on and hunching back into my coat’s collar against the freezing cold breeze, I glance up and down the snowy street. Being this close to the holidays, this late in the day, it’s mostly a few people buzzing around with shopping bags. Tourists wander around snapping photos with the spectacular mountains as a backdrop.
Cowboy hasvanished. Much to my disappointment.
I start walking toward my car, and immediately falter. Coming straight for me are the two people Ireallydon’t want to see right now. I’d love for a comet to plummet from the sky. Kindly obliterate me from existence right here on the sidewalk, please and thank you. My ex-boyfriend and his fiancée of five minutes ago appear in direct line of sight, arm in arm, and our paths are about to collide.
This time, I’m utterly exposed. There’s nowhere to run. No bookshelves to hide between. They see me straight away.
Strike me down where I stand… if no comet is going to do the job, it would be really helpful if some sort of snowmaggedon could take me out.
I’m preparing to force the world’s most phony smile onto my face when my prayers are apparently answered. The world spins. A shriek leaves my lips. I’m falling, with legs swiped out from beneath me. A blurry projectile skittles me like a pin in a bowling alley right onto a pile of fluffy snow, freshly shoveled at the side of the sidewalk.
