Chapter 7
Hayley was in the office using the phone to call the Little Creek Library to let them know what had happened to their bookmobile. Levi assumed she’d also call any friends and family or a significant other who may worry about her when she didn’t come home for the night. Or the next day. Or the next.
He rubbed his index finger hard across the span of his forehead.
Hopefully the Department of Transportation would have an estimate on how long it would take them to clear the road.
Hayley had said she’d make that phone call as well.
He wasn’t sure which of them was more anxious to hear when a crew would be sent to the rockslide site.
The answer should be obvious—Hayley. She was the one not allowed to go home, stuck with a grumpy stranger in a town so small it wasn’t even a town at all, and forced to make do with a situation that too eerily mirrored being marooned on a deserted island.
Hopefully, if given the choice, she’d have chosen a van full of books to be stranded with because that was what she’d ended up with.
But there was a reason Levi had chosen Turkey Grove instead of someplace closer to his family when he’d moved out.
He loved his family, but he’d taken the first opportunity to escape their chaos.
He’d never really been all that good at living with people to begin with, even when he was a child.
He was years out of practice of putting up with the hassle of sharing space with another person.
To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t all that confident in his capability to coexist, let alone to do so harmoniously.
He unhooked the last of the chains from around the bookmobile’s chassis.
It was in position to be hoisted on the lift, if necessary.
First, he needed to pop the hood and have a look underneath.
The fact the engine wouldn’t turn over narrowed the problem to a faulty battery, alternator, or starter, if he had to wager a guess.
Of course, that could be only the beginning of any sort of mechanical issues, especially in a vehicle this age.
Thankfully, he had a number of parts on hand for an array of makes and models, so chances were he could likely get the bookmobile up and running again by the time the road was cleared.
His gaze snagged on the 1968 Plymouth Barracuda he had up on the lift in the neighboring bay.
His latest project car, and one he still couldn’t believe he’d found in a junkyard in Hendersonville.
The owner had no idea the treasure he’d had wedged between a T-boned Ford Focus and a rusted-out station wagon.
Levi had been more than happy to pay the man’s asking price of a couple hundred dollars to take the car off his hands.
Once Levi restored the muscle car, it would be worth over thirty grand.
Some people flipped houses for a living; Levi flipped classic cars.
He’d have to put the project aside to work on the bookmobile, but he didn’t have a buyer lined up yet, so time constraints weren’t an issue.
The door that led to the office opened, and Hayley stepped out.
She fiddled with the ends of her shoulder-length hair, rubbing the strands between her thumb and index finger.
He waited, watching her. He didn’t need to ask what she’d learned about the road clearing or if she’d been able to get through to someone in Little Creek.
If he waited long enough, he was certain she’d supply the answers unprompted.
After all, she hadn’t been reticent with conversation up until this point. Why should that pattern change now?
She chewed on her bottom lip, then let her hands fall by her side. “The Department of Transportation is estimating a week or two of around-the-clock work to get the road cleared and repaired.”
Hayley was just an itty-bitty thing, but she seemed to shrink in on herself as she stared at him through her lashes, uncertain.
Levi didn’t like that look on her. He didn’t like it one bit. Even when she’d shown signs of fear when he’d first stepped out of the tow truck, there had still been an iron rod of determination in her backbone. Like she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Where had that gone?
“Are you sure it’s okay that I stay with you?” Her voice wobbled.
He gritted his teeth. He hated that even more.
“I’m sure I can—”
“Yes,” he ground out. He couldn’t stand to hear her speak another word in such a small, deflated tone.
She nodded, as if trying to convince herself more than him. “Okay. Thank you. I promise you won’t even know I’m there.”
“You said that already.”
“Oh, right.” She shrugged and smiled, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “It was worth repeating.” She shifted her weight between her feet and looked around the space of the garage as if trying to find something else to focus on.
Levi should show her up to the house and let her get settled.
Maybe she’d want to hide herself away in the spare bedroom for a while to adjust to her new surroundings.
Then he could do the same. But now that he had a houseguest, he should probably also make something for dinner instead of heating up leftovers like he’d planned.
“This way,” he barked as he turned and strode out of the open bay.
Hayley followed, and when she was outside, he shut the door and locked it.
He pivoted wordlessly and stepped onto the worn trail that led up to his house.
The incline was a little steep, but the woodsy trail was faster than trekking up the long driveway, which was also fairly steep.
It wasn’t long before Hayley was panting behind him.
He slowed his pace. Should he offer her assistance?
She’d only begrudgingly accepted his help out of the cab of the truck and then appeared like she’d regretted her choice of taking his hand right after, if her pursed lips and flaring nostrils were any indication.
Besides, he still felt the ghost of her touch trapped under his skin.
Could he handle the intensity of her proximity again so soon? Probably not.
The back deck of his house came into view first, jutting out over the mountainside and held aloft by thick posts driven into the sloping ground beneath.
Camouflaged because of the cedar siding that blended so well with the surrounding woods, his house was a retreat in more ways than one.
He liked that it didn’t stand out, wasn’t flashy.
That it quietly existed. That if you weren’t looking for it, you might overlook it entirely.
In fact, he hoped people did exactly that.
Once they reached the front door, Hayley’s cheeks were infused with color, and a few strands of her bangs were stuck to her forehead with sweat.
For the love of all things, she looked even more beautiful in this state, flushed and slightly disheveled, breaths coming out in small bursts past parted lips.
He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.
He had no business entertaining such thoughts.
They were new and unfamiliar and entirely unwelcome.
Hayley wouldn’t thank him for them either.
She only needed him to get the bookmobile running again and to provide a place for food and shelter.
She didn’t need his unwanted appreciation nor, he’d wager, would she be receptive toward it even if he was so inclined in that direction.
Which he wasn’t.
After retrieving the key he’d given her earlier and unlocking the door, Hayley stepped around him to enter his home.
She paused a few paces past the entryway and turned in a slow arc, eyes wide as she took in where he lived.
He tried to look at his home from her perspective.
He’d picked out the furniture and set the place up with only himself in mind.
The couch had the deepest seats that he could find to cradle his long legs, with an ottoman instead of a coffee table for additional length so he could stretch out.
The dark gray sectional faced an open hearth of a river rock fireplace, a stack of split logs piled to the side, ready to become a roaring fire.
Along the back wall, his books were shelved in handmade bookcases made from the same white oak that could be found in the woods in which his house nestled.
Like a gravitational pull tugged her, Hayley headed straight toward the bookshelves.
She stopped in front of the middle bookcase, lifted her hand, and lightly traced the spine of one of the titles, laughing to herself quietly.
“He’s oversized and hairy and has his own personal in-home library.
You will not fall prey to a Stockholm syndrome trope, Hayley Holt.
” She said the command under her breath, to herself.
His sisters had always hated that he could hear even their faintest of whispers, never being able to keep a secret from him. It was a superpower he hadn’t asked for. “You aren’t being held captive, so no need to worry about that happening.”
Hayley whirled around, her cheeks pink now for an entirely different reason. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He turned his back on her apology, as it wasn’t in the least bit necessary.
He was big and bearded and had a bit of a beastly personality.
And yes, he did have his own personal library.
The collection of paperbacks and hardcovers were more than just books; they were his friends and companions.
They spent long winter evenings together, and they ensured that he never got lonely, always inviting him along to another world, another place, another time.
They didn’t grate on his nerves or make unrealistic demands of him, requiring him to try to contort himself into someone he wasn’t to better fit into their world.
Fictional people were more enjoyable than any real ones had ever been to be around.