Forever Love on Fireweed Island (Island County Book 4) (7 page)

Yet, here I stood, unwilling to move and completely turned on by nothing more than his touch. His hands slowly fell from my hips, and I shoved away the disappointment, knowing full well we couldn’t stand here all day.

I turned around to see him smiling as he took my popcorn from me and nodded.

“Is that a yes to coffee?”

“It’s a yes to coffee,” I told him, ignoring the warring emotions inside.

On one hand, I wanted to have coffee like a normal human being and chitchat with the man who saved me from myself. But on the other hand, I wasn’t sure I was ready to put myself out there in any way whatsoever that didn’t involve handing someone their reserved book and sending them out the library doors.

I had a hard time trusting men at this point, and I certainly couldn’t allow myself to believe one this good-looking could stay monogamous in a long-term relationship.

And that right there was precisely the problem. The man innocently asked me out for coffee, and I’d already placed us in a monogamous relationship set in an imaginary future and still managed to fill it with pitfalls before I even took the first sip of coffee.

“I’d love to find out a bit more about the mysterious librarian who only recently moved back to Fireweed and seems not to be paying attention to a word I said.”

My gaze shot to his, and I bit my lip in embarrassment. I wondered how long he’d been talking.

“Sorry. I get all wrapped up in myself sometimes, but if you think you’re about to go out for coffee with a mysterious librarian, you might be in for a letdown.” I laughed. “I should warn you. My adventures tend to happen within the pages of books.”

“Impossible. You already had one earlier this week.” His eyes were bright with warmth, and it made me feel a little less ridiculous about dangling from a tree.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard the two words
mysterious
and
librarian
paired before.”

“The article didn’t give me much to go on, so you’re definitely mysterious to me, and that’s all that counts.”

I studied him, trying to figure out what it was about him that made him so appealing. Earlier in the week, I’d blamed the attraction on his uniform, but now that he was standing in front of me without one, I realized it had nothing to do with the goggles and boots. It was pure maleness. Every rugged inch of him exuded something I hadn’t experienced in ages.

“I can’t get much out of people about you either,” I said.

A surprised look flashed across his features at my admission, and I grinned.

“Well, then, we should have a lot to talk about over coffee.” Jake gave me a long look, and a flutter of excitement ran through me.

“So you grew up on Fireweed?” Jake asked, as we walked down the sidewalk lined with overflowing planters filled with red poppies and white anemones. The warm sea breeze circled around us, the softness caressing my bare skin with each step forward. There was nothing better than spending a summer day on Fireweed, wandering the town with no particular place to go.

“I did, and I loved every second of it, so I’m not sure why I ever left.” I glanced toward the glittering water at the edge of town. I’d gone home and dropped everything off while Jake helped his mom shut down her booth at the farmer’s market. We’d met at a new tea shop that had opened up on Main Street, which also managed to serve drip coffee.

“Sometimes, it’s good to get out there in the world and realize what you’ve been missing.”

 “I suppose.”

“Not buying it?” he asked, turning to look at me as he drank some coffee.

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure what good actually came from leaving.”

“Were you born a librarian?”

“Well, no.” I couldn’t help but smile at his quick assessment. “So you found one good thing about my leaving the island.”

“Do you love your job?” His eyes teased all kinds of pitter-patters out of me, and I promised myself I’d get a grip. I’d keep to safe topics and avoid looking in his eyes much, but my strength was waning.

We’d wound our way to a small park next to the marina, where two bronze abstract sculptures sprang to life.

“I do,” I said as he took a seat on one of the benches and tapped a spot next to him on the seat. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Well, don’t underestimate how much that’s worth. It’s not an easy thing to find something you love to do, so that in itself is enough of a reason for you to have left the island for a bit of time.”

I took a sip of iced tea and nodded in agreement.

“And I’d imagine getting experience was a lot easier on the mainland so you could come back here and find a job at the one and only library on the island.”

I turned on the bench and propped my elbow on the back. “Very true. Timing was everything. Evelyn retired two months before I arrived back on Fireweed.”

“Then it all worked out.”

“What about you? Have you found what you love to do?”

“You mean besides saving women hanging from trees on my off-hours?” His eyes sparkled with amusement, and the crazy assortment of flutters dashed around my stomach.

“Yes, besides that.”

“I haven’t really found just one thing I like to do. I tend to dabble and enjoy it all.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, my mouth felt obliged to fill the silence with yet another snippet of wisdom I wished didn’t roll out.

“I’ve heard you tend to keep to yourself. Kind of a loner and all that.”

“Is that so?” His brow raised, and he turned to face me.

“It is.”

A couple of seagulls soared above, and I instinctively moved my hand over my head to shield me from any messy bombs.

“Had a bad experience or two?” He laughed as I hunched over and glared at the two white birds.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it, especially with you,” I teased.

I had no intention of telling one of the hottest men alive that not only had I been touched by a seagull once, but I’d been touched twice.

By the same bird.

“You know, they say having a bird poop on you is good luck,” he offered.

“Who in the world says that?”

The squawking from above intensified, and I cowered deeper into myself, praying I wouldn’t become a victim.

“Probably no one who’s had it happen.” He smiled and glanced toward the sky. “It looks like they’re pissed about something.”

“How can you tell?” I switched from covering my head to covering my drink.

“Because they’re about to start dive-bombing us in a second. See them swooping?” He pointed toward the sky before his eyes landed on a giant flowerpot behind us. “I think we’re close to their nest.”

Jake’s hand swiftly clutched mine, and he hauled me off the bench and away from the hot zone.

“They could’ve pecked our eyes out.” I laughed, jogging with him to the safety of the covered walkway.

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You’ve saved me for the second time in one week.”

He let go of my hand, and his laughter treated the air with happiness. I glanced over to where we’d just left, and sure enough, one of the seagulls was resting on the edge of the humungous flowerpot.

“They’ve actually got some pretty interesting abilities.”

“Besides stealing lunches and eating other baby birds?”

“Survival of the fittest.” He looked over at the birds. “Seagulls can actually drink seawater. They have a gland or something that removes the salt.”

“Really? I’ve never heard that.”

“I think a day in the life of a seagull would surprise a lot of people.”

I chuckled. “Eat or be eaten I get, but if we tried to drink saltwater, I think we’d shorten our lifespan.”

“Minus that, but they’re monogamous and fiercely protective of their mate and their young. They’re cunning and highly adaptable to surroundings.”

“How in the world do you know so much about seagulls?” I asked, bringing my gaze back to his. “You don’t strike me as a bird-watcher.”

He tossed his coffee cup in the trashcan and folded his arms. “What does a bird-watcher look like?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I imagine someone a little more studious, maybe a little more . . . no, a little less . . .” I twisted my lips together as I tried to come up with a solid explanation that didn’t involve muscles or good looks. “A little less stoic.”

“Stoic?”

I nodded, realizing that really wouldn’t make sense unless he was in my head, but I didn’t want to tell him I’d already painted him to be tough and resilient.

“So you’ve never met a stoic bird-watcher.” He leaned against the railing and stretched his arms behind him. His eyes quickly wandered down my body as the wind shifted my dress to the side, and I couldn’t help but feel a little victorious that I’d caught his attention.

“Well, I guess I’ve never met a bird-watcher who needed to be.” I asked him as his gaze returned to mine, “So, are you into birds?”

“Actually, I’m into a lot of things.”

“A lot of solo things, or do your hobbies include people?”

“Ah, we’re back to that.” He chuckled. “The Fireweed recluse.”

“Well, you’ve seemed social to me, and I obviously bumped into you at a crowded event, so I’m less inclined to believe the rumors.”

“Rumors, huh?” He was definitely getting a kick out of things.

“Some say you don’t ever shop for groceries.”

“Ooh, no food either. I wonder how I survive?”

“Exactly what I wondered, and then I figured you must grow your own food.”

“Farming does run in the family, so that could add weight to your theory. What else have you heard?”

“That you have twenty acres and possibly live in a tent.”

“Again, more weight added to the farming theory, but a tent could get uncomfortable really fast, especially in the winter.”

“I would imagine it could.” I leaned against the opposite railing as Jake, careful to avoid any wood splinters. “I’ve also heard you never go into Seattle.”

“Maybe I have everything I could ever want here.” His grin intensified.

 “I was also told you never go out to eat, and never need the pharmacy, but personally, I think the people paying attention to your whereabouts need a hobby.”

“Maybe I’m an excellent chef who never gets sick.”

“Are you?” I narrowed my eyes. “An excellent chef?”

“I’ll let you be the judge, but I honestly had no idea there were so many rumors about me. Maybe I should wander into town a bit more.”

“If you don’t like people, why bother?” I shrugged, smiling.

“I actually don’t mind people.” He pushed himself off the railing and took a few steps toward me, lessening the gap. “How about dinner sometime, and then you can be the judge? Maybe even set some of the people in town straight.”

Jake stared down into my eyes, and I found myself nodding. He could have asked me to go mountain climbing, and I would’ve agreed. It had to be his good looks that altered my state of mind.

“You’ve got to be the sexiest librarian to have ever lived.” Jake’s voice lowered into a sultry tone, his eyes darkened, and his gaze fell to my lips while I secretly prayed for a kiss.

I felt an electric charge shoot between us and pull me toward him. To feel what an attraction should be told me why things had never worked out in my favor before.

This.

Was.

Incredible.

His lips parted slowly, and right before he leaned forward, my mouth betrayed me.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t get out much,” I whispered.

He grumbled a laugh and flashed a confident and utterly sexy grin in my direction before looking down at the dock.

Our missed kiss still reeled though me, and I blew out a sigh, wondering why my defense mechanism turned into mindless rattling around him.

“No, I don’t think that’s it.” He sucked his lip in, and his blue eyes locked on mine, sending a surge of desire through me.

I’d never experienced sensations this strong. I’d forgotten what the pinprick flashes of heat and pent-up nervousness felt like.

All from one look and one
almost
kiss, and then his words continued, sending me into a fantasy novel too good to be true.

“I know what I like.” His eyes sharpened on me. “And don’t like to waste time.”

The swirling spark of hope filling my veins was nothing short of lust, and I fully recognized that, but the way I was wired, my mind wandered to the what-ifs of life and it drove me nuts.

He took another step forward, and we were inches apart, his eyes focusing on mine. Was this how he picked up all his women? I needed to keep Jake at bay. My return to Fireweed had been simple and uncomplicated. The thought of getting involved—even for a night or two—sent my head spinning.

“I’m probably not all you’ve cracked me up to be. You’ve only seen me on a good week,” I assured him.

“Being stuck in a tree is a good week for you?” He asked, surprised. His fingers slid slowly along my cheek, moving back a few stray strands of my brown hair in the process, and I had to concentrate fully on staying upright. “I’d sure as hell hate to see what a bad week looks like.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but be a little mesmerized by this man.