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“Where are you from, Sam? You have an accent.”
He chuckled. “I’m from Florida. To me, you have accents.” He glanced at Marlo. “I love it.”
Oh geez.
Marlo seemed unmoved. “Well,” she said, “I need to get to work, so you have a good day, Sam. Tenleigh, I’ll see you at home.”
“Oh. You’re going to work?” Sam asked. “Well, let me drive you. I’m headed back to Evansly anyway. I was just dropping off my card to some homes in this area, trying to get to know all the folks in the community and letting people know I’d see them free of charge if they were interested.”
Marlo hesitated and I jumped in. “Great! What a stroke of luck, Mar. I’ll see you at home.”
She stared daggers at me for a moment but then smiled over at Sam. “Okay, great. Thanks, Sam.”
They turned to walk to his car, Sam waving at me and Marlo widening her eyes in a “we’ll talk later” way. I turned around and headed toward the library, chuckling to myself. Either Marlo was trying really hard not to like Sam, or well, she really didn’t like him. If I had to guess, I’d go with the former. I’d seen Marlo with guys I knew for a fact she wasn’t interested in, and she didn’t act like that. She also didn’t cover her smile in front of Sam. I liked that most of all—he made her feel pretty.
I pulled the door to the library open—really nothing more than a small one-room shed with several bookshelves inside, holding as many books as could fit, and operating on the honor system. I had helped one of the teachers at my high school take up a fund to set it up several years ago and folks had donated what they could. The budget had been small and didn’t buy many books, but it was better than nothing. And it was usually empty. So I was surprised to see someone standing at the shelf on the back wall leafing through a book.
I walked in quietly and as I got closer, I saw it was Kyland. Stupid Kyland. I couldn’t mistake that broad back and the caramel-brown hair curling up at his neck. It looked like he was returning a book to the shelf. I cleared my throat and he whirled around, the book still in his hands. My eyes moved from his surprised expression down to the title he was holding, The Weaver of Raveloe.
Well, well. I leaned my hip against one of the shelves and crossed my arms over my layered sweaters, a feeling of satisfaction moving through my body as I took him in.
Kyland leaned back against the shelf behind him, sucking at his bottom lip. We stood there staring at each other for a minute in some kind of strange standoff, despite the fact that I was the only one who should be bitter here. “A little girl. That’s what he found that winter night. Abandoned in the snow,” he finally said.
I nodded slowly, my eyes moving over his face and hair, so carelessly handsome. “She gave his life meaning. She made him feel alive in a way he never had before.”
“Then he lost all the gold he’d earned after he exiled himself.”
I shrugged. “Yes, and it didn’t matter. He didn’t care about it once he found Eppie. She ended up being his greatest fortune because she gave purpose to his lonely life.”
Something shifted behind Kyland’s eyes. He turned around slowly and returned the book to its place. He must have checked it out the week before—after we’d talked and after I’d returned it. Just making conversation, my ass. He’d wanted to know how it ended.
“Are you going to check out another one?” I asked.
“No.” It came out clipped and certain.
I walked toward him to return the one I’d finished reading, The Bluest Eye. I leaned toward Kyland to put the book back in its place. He didn’t move to accommodate my closeness. “Well,” I said, “if you were setting out to prove to me you’re not the illiterate hillbilly I pegged you for, you—”
“Tenleigh.” My eyes flew to his at the raspy sound of his voice.
There was something hard and resolute in Kyland’s expression. The air was thick with tension. We both stood silently, his jaw clenching. He moved even closer to me and my heart started beating wildly, my breath coming out raggedly, the anger I’d held on to since he’d rejected me, turning to confusion…and attraction. Dear God, he was beautiful and I could smell his skin, clean and masculine with the slight hint of salt. I wanted to open my mouth and breathe in the air around us so I could taste him on my tongue. My tummy flipped and my eyes fluttered. He continued to stare, seeming to note my body language and he looked…mad? Intense. I stood taller and lifted my chin. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I wasn’t backing down from this, whatever this was.
