Chapter 2 #2
“Feeling ready to get back on your feet?” he enquires, with all the chivalrous country charm that leaves my thighs subtly squeezing together.
“Yeah. I think so.” My hesitant smile hides all sorts of wickedly tempting thoughts running through my mind.
Are you even real?
What cowboy planet were you beamed in from?
Where do you find shirts to fit a chest your size, and can I climb inside it with you?
“Let’s get you up off the floor, huh?”
One of those giant hands extends my way, gripping my elbow to help steady me as I awkwardly get to my feet.
“I suppose the heroes in my books never spend more time obsessed with their share portfolio than their girlfriend. These monsters never let me down.” Giving my skirt a quick tug to make sure I’m not continually flashing him, the exhale comes out of me, followed by a new flush of heat flaming my cheeks to five-alarm fire levels.
Monsters. Plural.
Of course, I’m out here waving around my rather kinky interest in being double-teamed by fancy penises to a stranger.
Now that we’re both standing, the size difference between us is truly something to steal my breath and my sanity.
He’s gotta be well over six foot, and the way I barely see eye to eye with his impossibly broad chest leaves heat rapidly pooling between my legs.
In order to look at those oh, so gorgeous eyes and jawline of his, I have to tilt my head back.
A motion that leaves me swaying off balance a little.
“Better?” He gives me a long look, then for the briefest flicker of a moment—as if he’s been battling with himself and finally gives in—those amber eyes drop down my figure, before snapping back up to my own.
The tiniest hint of pink hits his cheekbones, and oh my god, the fact that he just checked me out, then seems to be flustered about it, is surely not possible.
Not. Possible.
I’m the quintessential curvy, soft, librarian girl.
No matter how much I exercise, my jiggle still jiggles, my tummy still has a rolling curve to it, and I’ve never once known a thigh gap.
Yet, he makes me feel delicate next to him.
I’m eating up every second of just how damn strong and secure it feels to stand beside this man.
Something I didn’t quite know I had such a visceral response to, or appetite for… until now.
“Yeah… much better. Thank you.” My mouth is so dry, it takes a whole lot of effort to mumble my gratitude for his kindness and attentiveness, when he could have easily carried on with his life and ignored the sight of me slumped on the floor.
“So, three days at Mistwood Ranch, huh?” He says it slowly, as if there’s some detail in there he’s poring over. Swirling it around like two fingers of aged bourbon inside a glass.
“Yup.” I give a slightly forced smile. “Well, that was the original plan. Then my friend broke her ankle, abandoning me to this whole vacation as a flying solo sort of thing. More fool me for thinking it would be a fun escape. Mountains. Snow. Nowhere to go and no place to be.” I wave my hand around, well aware I’m kind of babbling to fill the silence.
“Now I know I really should have spent the holidays wearing three pairs of socks and double sweats while curled up at home with my books, even without central heating… but here I am.” I babble.
“Without central heating?” He repeats it slowly, concern coloring his tone.
“Just for the holidays. My landlord needed to fix it. The damn furnace thing keeps breaking.” Yeah, I’m officially talking fast and awkwardly because this man is simply too hot for his own good, and I feel like I should probably run outside and roll around in the snow to cool off.
Cowboy opens his mouth and closes it again, while hovering in front of me.
For a brief, pulse-fluttering moment, it seems as if he’s about to ask me something.
My eyes bounce between his, silently willing him to say whatever it is he’s thinking…
except my powers of persuasion are non-existent.
This handsome as all hell stranger clears his throat, scrubs over the back of his neck once more, and steps back.
My ovaries howl in protest.
“Nice to meet you. I gotta go,” he mutters. “Stella is waiting for me.”
Oh god. Of course, this man isn’t single. His girlfriend, or presumably wife, is waiting for him. Did he have a ring on? I didn’t see it, but that wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made that mistake. My report card isn’t particularly stellar on that front.
He disappears from the row of shelves so fast I’m left blinking at the space where he stood only a moment before. Only the drifting scent of cedar and citrus lingers in the air to give me any tangible evidence of him having been there.
Did I imagine all of that?
Damn.
Looks like my bad luck and constant companions of loneliness and singledom are gonna keep slapping me on the back. Twin bogeymen following me around, laughing at my dejected state.
Happy hellish holidays.
At least I’m surrounded by a cornucopia of book boyfriends.
So while I shake off the disappointment of our little meet-cute being all in my head, I keep on browsing the shelf in front of me a little longer.
Maybe I’m sad and desperate enough that I stay, hoping he might come rushing back immediately.
Unfortunately, not. A travesty.
After finding another few monster-fucking masterpieces to add to my stack, I pay at the counter and chat briefly with the lovely woman who owns the store.
She tells me all about her upcoming double hip replacement in the New Year, before showing me photos of her three chihuahuas.
Eventually, I pluck up the courage to depart the safety and comfort of being surrounded by books.
Shoving my beanie on and hunching back into my coat’s collar against the freezing cold breeze, I glance up and down the snowy street.
Being this close to the holidays, this late in the day, it’s mostly a few people buzzing around with shopping bags.
Tourists wander around snapping photos with the spectacular mountains as a backdrop.
Cowboy has vanished. Much to my disappointment.
I start walking toward my car, and immediately falter.
Coming straight for me are the two people I really don’t want to see right now.
I’d love for a comet to plummet from the sky.
Kindly obliterate me from existence right here on the sidewalk, please and thank you.
My ex-boyfriend and his fiancée of five minutes ago appear in direct line of sight, arm in arm, and our paths are about to collide.
This time, I’m utterly exposed. There’s nowhere to run. No bookshelves to hide between. They see me straight away.
Strike me down where I stand… if no comet is going to do the job, it would be really helpful if some sort of snowmaggedon could take me out.
I’m preparing to force the world’s most phony smile onto my face when my prayers are apparently answered.
The world spins. A shriek leaves my lips.
I’m falling, with legs swiped out from beneath me.
A blurry projectile skittles me like a pin in a bowling alley right onto a pile of fluffy snow, freshly shoveled at the side of the sidewalk.
Two giant paws connect straight with my chest, knocking the air from my lungs, and a dog with black and white fur proceeds to lick the side of my face with great enthusiasm.
Is this how it ends? Does the Grim Reaper roll around in a lush coat, with black pointed ears, and a long white nose? Or am I about to be dragged off into the afterlife by a hellhound—wearing… is that a candy cane striped bandana?—determined to cover me in saliva first?
“Jesus Christ. Stella.” A gruff voice hollers, to no avail. Those words scolding the furball firmly pinning me beneath every ounce of its seventy-odd pounds, are a little fuzzy to my ringing ears.
The dog planted over my chest starts whining, and I blink up at the bruised-looking clouds in the sky. Okay, well, I’m still here. No portal to the River Styx for me today.
Snow is still set to arrive.
My ex is still walking toward me.
My life still sucks.
I’m still very much just needing to be able to draw some air back into my lungs.
As if the universe hears me, several things happen at once.
Cowboy from the bookstore reappears, unexpectedly so.
Oh god, he’s looming above me, concern etched in between his brows as he barks out a firm command at the border collie wearing a red striped bandana around her neck.
Stella. The culprit who promptly sits at my side wagging her tail enthusiastically, if entirely unhelpfully, considering the fact that she just body slammed me into a snowdrift like a pro wrestler.
His big hands are on me again, and this time, when he assists me to my feet, that size difference between us feels even more dramatic.
Out in the open, with his cowboy hat planted on his head, it doesn’t seem real at all, as his massive paws carefully help me to stand and then keep hold of my shoulders.
God. He’s so handsome.
Bookstore-cowboy carefully dusts the snow and ice off my coat, muttering something at the dog under his breath as he does so. She promptly nuzzles my hand, her wet nose and whiskers tickling my palm.
“Mia?”
I wince, knowing the source of the voice calling my name.
This is going to go down as the Christmas spent drowning my sorrows in an attempt to erase all memory of this clusterfuck. My newly engaged ex finding me bedraggled and collapsed in a heap on the ground, whereas his fiancée looks fresh off a green juice cleanse and cover shoot for Women’s Health.
“Oh my god, are you alright? That was quite some fall.” His fiancée looks at me a little pityingly, and my stomach drops when I see her lift a hand to pluck a twig out of my hair; that diamond ring screams for attention as it hovers in my periphery.
“You and Dale know each other?” The woman doesn’t wait for either of us to speak, simply clapping her hands and clearly wanting to make this all about her. “I’m Polly! What a coincidence, running into a friend.” She titters a laugh and waggles her diamond. “We just got engaged! I said, ‘Yes!’”
No fucking shit.
“Mia works in the local library. She helped with that literacy fundraiser the firm ran back in the summer.” My ex-boyfriend—Dipshit Dale—is a slimy jerk. Shrugging off the way we know each other with a lie that comes a little too easily.
Cowboy hasn’t let go of my shoulders, and when I glance up at him, I see his eyes flick to the couple.
I see the recognition hit him, that these are the very people I just showed him on my phone.
God, this is mortifying. Then, he sees the diamond ring she’s busy waving around like she’s directing incoming planes to land.
“Who’s this?” My ex looks between me and the man mountain holding me upright.
I’m opening my mouth to say something to the effect of he’s a stranger who’s just picked my sorry ass up off the floor twice in ten minutes when cowboy beats me to it.
His heavy arm drapes around my shoulder, tugging me against his side, and I must’ve hit my head much harder than I realized, because the words that come out of his mouth can’t possibly be real.
“I’m Reid Landon. Her boyfriend.”