AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I scoff, trying for cool and casual, even going so far as to tilt my chin up in a challenge.
“You’re the most eligible bachelor left on the shelf,” I say. “Surely you can find someone more suitable to play along with your fake engagement shenanigans.”
He grins, one brow cocked. “So you admit I’m eligible?”
Damn it. A rookie mistake.
“I admit nothing,” I correct. “Now leave. This library is for readers.”
Carter holds up the book he picked up earlier. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But first, you gonna check me out?”
Even as a book nerd who thoroughly enjoys book puns, I do not appreciate his wordplay in the moment. But I can’t exactly deny a patron. So I turn and walk back to the checkout desk, ready to get this over with, when suddenly inspiration strikes. In a flurry of key strokes, I find exactly what I need just as Carter slides his book across the desk.
“Happy to check you out,” I say with false cheer. “But first, it looks like you’ve got an outstanding fine of three dollars forty cents.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. “I haven’t checked anything out from here in—”
“Over a decade?” I say innocently. “Yes, I see that. But rules are rules.”
I smile at him, waiting for him to abandon the book and leave. But to my dismay—or is it my delight?—he simply lays a five on the counter, telling me to leave the credit on his account for future debts.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says, grabbing the book to leave. “Count on it, sprite.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t have time for shenanigans.
Not even hot shenanigans with Carter Sheppard.
No.
Scratch that.
Especially not hot shenanigans with Carter Sheppard.
Chapter Three
Is there anything half as magical as a hike through the woods?
I can already hear Maggie in my head telling me that, yes, obviously, anything to do with Christmas is more magical than the woods. And any of the other librarians from work would be telling me that books are obviously more magical. But for that, I raise them the possibility of hiking to a secluded spot in the woods to plop down under a tree to read.
Now that’s magic.
I think the best part of hiking in the woods in Reindeer Falls is that a) they’re not really woods and b) it’s not much of a hike. That is to say, it’s mostly a bunch of paved walking paths near my house meandering through trees, which provides plenty of nature to enjoy, but not too much nature. It’s quaint and beautiful and there are a minimum number of hilly spots. Perfect for clearing your head.
And let’s face it, my head needs to be cleared. Desperately. Ever since I told Carter off at the library the other day, he’s been poking his annoyingly attractive head into my daydreams and my regular, at-night dreams. I’ll be thinking about my grocery list and then there he is. Conveniently shirtless in my fantasy as he asks if I need help reaching something on the top shelf.
This is all residual crush, I’ve decided. Leftover longing from when I was fifteen and he was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. And sure, time—and Major League Baseball—have only made him more attractive. But I’m an intelligent young woman who knows that it’s what’s on the inside that counts.
And Carter? He’s a player and a heartbreaker to the core.
Still, as much as my mind is convinced to stay far, far away from Carter, my body is not. In fact, I’m not convinced that my traitorous body won’t get up in the middle of the night, walk next door and proposition him.
So mind-clearing is imperative. I pull on my best leggings, a sweatshirt that says “I Like Big Books and I Cannot Lie,” and a puffy jacket. A small backpack for my latest paperback and other essentials. Then I whip my curls up into a high pony—easier said than done—and take off for the Reindeer Falls woods. Immediately, the rich smells of pine and earth take over me. I can feel my traitorous thoughts about Carter Sheppard leaving my mind. I’m focusing on nature and nature only—
Until I hear his voice.
“Come on, Rudy. Don’t be so damn pathetic, you little shit.”
Excuse me?
How dare he speak like this to my sweet, precious Rudy?
I take off at a jog and find them just around the corner. Rudy is flopped on the ground, laying in snow like a sad doggie snow angel, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Clearly, Rudy has been pushed to his limits.
I rush over and drop down next to him, immediately running my hand over his head. It’s cold out, so it’s impossible to tell if he’s overheated. But clearly, he’s been worked to the bone.
I turn my head and glare at Carter Sheppard, who is standing there holding Rudy’s leash. He has the nerve to grin at the sight of me, even though I’m clearly ready to blow. Because judging by the sweat glistening on Carter’s forehead, the running pants, the damp sweatshirt, and the disheveled nature of his hair—a look that is only attractive on hot guys—this man’s just forced poor Rudy into a ten-mile run.
