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“You are SUCH a jerk!” I shout, yanking my purse off the counter and glaring at him. “For your information, I’m not pretending anything! I don’t need money to buy fancy shoes or jewelry or any of that other crap! I need it to save my library. My home. The only place that has ever made me feel like I was normal, and like I belonged. The only place where people don’t look at me funny when I spout off random, useless facts. That place is my entire life and without it, I don’t even know who the hell I am! The board wants to close down the place that has been my safe haven for nine years. When I walk through those front doors and run my hands over the spines of those books, I feel like I can finally breathe. I refuse to let that happen and, yes, I’m willing to step out of my comfort zone and become a fucking stripper to save it! So, screw you and thanks for nothing!”
Turning around before the tears pooling in my eyes fall down my cheeks, I stomp across the room and out the door, slamming it behind me as I go. I can’t believe I actually thought there could be something more between us. At least I can be thankful that I didn’t do something humiliating by coming right out and telling that jerk I liked him.
* * *
I walk into Vincent’s house at ten o’clock at night after another disastrous date, kicking the door closed behind me and rolling my eyes at myself. I feel like this is the only kind of exit and entrance I’ve made since I moved in to this damn place.
“You’re home early.”
Just like always, I jump and let out a small scream when I hear Vincent’s voice.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I ask in irritation, tossing my purse on the foyer table, wondering why in the hell I can’t catch a break today.
“It was a slow night. I got off early,” he explains, getting off one of the barstools and walking over to me.
“Oh, gee, did you decide to be a creepy stalker and follow me again?”
Even though my words come out sarcastically, part of me kind of hopes he did. Which is a really, really stupid thing to hope for after what happened between us earlier.
“No. What happened?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he takes another step closer to me.
Even though I want to just shove past him and go into the spare bedroom to cry about my day and the things he said to me, I can’t do it. With a sigh, I begrudgingly tell him about my evening.
“Oh, no big deal. Just another date from hell. This time, with Mr. Jonathan Cogs. It was a positively stimulating evening that started off with his mother picking me up from the library and driving us to dinner because, and I quote, ‘Jonathan’s tandem bike had a flat.’”
Vincent actually has the nerve to twitch the corner of his mouth and I glare at him before continuing.
“We then had a lovely dinner at the Sunshine Diner, a table for three, mind you, because Mrs. Cogs was our chaperone for the evening. And you know, I get it, I was a daddy’s girl and all that. I still lived with my dad up until he kicked me out of the only home I’ve ever had because he didn’t approve of my new friends, and he didn’t like the fact that I needed to spread my wings and actually live life instead of just reading about it in the pages of a book.”
Good God, what is wrong with me? First I tell him about the library, and now this.
Blinking back tears and lifting my chin, I keep going with my story so I can get it over with, go to bed, and pretend like this entire day never happened.
“She cut his food for him. She did all of the talking. And she even asked me if I was fertile because her baby boy isn’t getting any younger and she wants grandchildren,” I finish, blowing out an annoyed breath.
A sound comes out of Vincent’s mouth that makes my heart flutter, and I stare at him in equal parts shock and annoyance.
“Did you just laugh? Are you seriously laughing at what I went through tonight?” I ask.
“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t funny. I’m also sorry for being an asshole earlier,” he says in a low, serious voice that makes things flutter a lot further south than my heart.
Just when I thought hearing him laugh was shocking enough, he has to go and apologize.
“I believe I called you a jerk, not an asshole, but thank you all the same.”
The corner of his mouth twitches and he takes a step closer to me.
