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“You look like shit.”
My head whips up from staring at my phone to find those stupid, gorgeous, chocolate-brown eyes that have been haunting my dreams staring right at me. Beast stands on the other side of the counter holding a large cardboard box in his hand, wearing a white T-shirt that stretches across his muscular chest, and an annoyed expression in his face as he stares at me.
So much for sweet, flowery words filled with emotion and meaning.
I quickly shake my head, wondering if I fell asleep sitting up again and am dreaming. When I went to work yesterday after my meeting with Cindy and Ariel, I expected to have a nice, quiet evening at the library. Then, just like he did the night before, Beast waltzed in an hour before closing time, sat at the same table and held the same book in front of his face, glancing at me every once in a while, but never making a move to come over and talk to me. So, once again, I walked over to his table and tried making small talk without rambling or being nervous, but he didn’t do much more than grunt or sigh in response. But the thing that pulled at my heartstrings was the fact that even though he didn’t say much, he listened. He never took his eyes off me when I spoke about books, and he actually seemed interested in what I was saying. That’s not something a mean person would do, is it? If he were truly an awful person, he’d just get up and walk away if he didn’t want to listen to me blather on and on.
He just needs to work on his manners.
“I’m sorry my appearance offends you. I’m tired. I’ve been working a lot,” I tell him with a sigh, wishing I had taken a little more time to get ready in the employee bathroom this morning.
“Christ, I’m not offended. I’m just stating a fact. You’re always beautiful, but you look like hell. And I brought you pizza. You need to eat,” he mutters, tossing the cardboard box on the counter.
His voice is low and gruff and he sounds displeased, but I’m too busy letting the words you’re always beautiful play on a loop in my head to care. Before this moment, my dad is the only man who has ever told me I was beautiful. Even though I don’t know Beast very well, I’m pretty sure I know enough to realize he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean. And he thinks I’m beautiful. And he brought me food. The smell of sauce and cheese hits my nose and my stomach growls loudly, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything since the granola bar I had for breakfast.
I try to tamp down the butterflies in my stomach but it’s no use. They are out of control, and they’re going to stay that way.
I wondered if it was just a coincidence that he’d been here two nights in a row, or maybe he had some important bouncer research to do. This is now the third night he’s come in, and I think I’m finished wondering.
Scanning the room for Mrs. Potter and hoping that she’s still here somewhere and can make this situation a little less nerve-wracking, I glance at the clock on the wall and realize it’s ten minutes past closing time.
“She left fifteen minutes ago,” he mutters, obviously knowing exactly what I was doing and who I was searching for.
“Why are you here?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.
“Uh, it’s a public library,” he responds.
“I know it’s a public library. But it’s my public library, and you’ve never stepped foot in here before a few nights ago. Why do you keep showing up an hour before closing time?”
He runs his hand through his hair with a sigh.
“Your friend Cindy has a big mouth. She said you worked here and always closed after dark. I didn’t like it. I came to make sure you weren’t here alone every night.”
My mouth drops open in shock that he would do something like that for someone he barely knows. And I realize what Mrs. Potter said to me the other night is true. He really is coming in here for me.
“That’s so sweet,” I whisper.
He groans, shaking his head at me.
“I’m not sweet. I just don’t like the idea of a young woman being alone at night. I also don’t like it that you never leave this place before I have to get to work. Grab your shit. I’m driving you home tonight.”
I really want to be offended that he’s ordering me around, but there’s something so knight in shining armor-ish about this whole situation, I’m swooning like the women in my favorite romance novels.
And then I remember that he can’t take me home. Because I don’t have a home. My home is right here, and I’m currently standing on my bed.
