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I gave up men in suits after Garrett and I broke up, convincing myself that I’ve got a new type.
Except, I don’t. A well-dressed man is exactly my type. And when his ass, thighs, and legs are big enough to stretch the fabric of their slacks like this guy’s? Forget about it.
“Well, you don’t grow up in southern Tennessee without picking up a bit of an accent.” I bounce on the tips of my toes, staring at the sidewalk between our feet. “Anyway. I’ve gotta go, but I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Wait,” he says. “You wouldn’t happen to have a library card I could borrow, do you?”
That brings my chin up, a lone brow arching at him. “Not when you’re perfectly capable of getting one yourself.”
“I’m not staying in town long enough to need one permanently.” His shoulders lift. “Besides, what if I get lost in there without your expert guidance?”
Please. Him, get lost in a library that’s smaller than the apartment he probably lives in? I doubt it.
The first spark of humor touches his lips and a cascade of flutters fill my stomach. If he wasn’t so difficult to read, I’d almost think he was flirting with me.
I pull my phone out of my chest pocket to see that it’s three-thirty. I’m supposed to meet Dad, Brody, and the girls at the shop at five so we can work on the floral arrangements for Friday night’s auction.
Rowan raises his hands innocently. “I promise not to keep you too long.”
I chew my lower lip, weighing my options, but I suppose I’ve got a little time to spare. “Fine.”
His eyes widen with obvious surprise. “Fine?”
I can’t hide a small smile when I stomp toward him, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him inside the library.
“Good afternoon, Molly,” the librarian says from behind her desk.
Eleanor has known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper, and her sweet perfume reminds me of a time when I’d stay here for hours with my mom, carefully choosing our next adventures.
“Well, well.” The older woman lowers her glasses, shamelessly eyeing Rowan from his head to his feet. “Who’s this, and where have you been hiding him?”
“Rowan Kendrick, ma’am.” He inclines his head. “I’m not from here.”
“That much is obvious, honey.” She taps her pen on the desk, beaming up at him. “But we’re happy to have you. Is there anything I can help you find?”
“Yearbooks,” he says.
“Ah! You’ll find them in a room in the back left corner. Molly can show you.” Eleanor opens a drawer before presenting him a key with a plastic fob labeled Archives.
“Thank you.”
When he turns to me expectantly, I can’t help but ask, “Yearbooks?”
Rowan cocks a brow but doesn’t elaborate.
“Alrighty, then.” Our fingers brush when I reach for the key, and I quickly glance away to hide a deepening blush. “Follow me.”
I lead him past ten or so stacks that are labeled and categorized according to the Dewey Decimal system to the archives, where most teenagers sneak off after school to make out.
“What grade?” I murmur once I unlock the door and push it open. A stale breeze, saturated with ink and old paper, wafts over us, and my nose wrinkles. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
Only, I totally do.
I don’t trust men like Rowan, and I think he senses it because when the door shuts behind us, he sighs. “High school. Apparently, my mom grew up here. I was curious if I could find some record of her.”
The room is packed with filing cabinets and a few rows of bookshelves with a plain white table in the center.
“Oh. Okay.” With the door at my back and Rowan at my side, I’m all too aware how alone we are.
