Heavy Issues (3 page)

He cranked his neck, first left, then right.

Okay, showtime.

He was fucking unable to talk himself out of this insanity. Fine, so he may as well go through with it. Jump headfirst into the fire; it would make for a shorter agony if nothing else.

Christy was sitting at the far end, talking to a woman. He headed toward her, debating with himself whether it would be best to wait for Christy to be alone, but then she raised her eyes and saw him, and the color drained from her face. Fantastic. Very encouraging.

Well, too late to bolt now, and besides, that stupid ring was burning a hole in his pocket and his resolution. He needed to get some things cleared up before she put herself on the market, hooked up with some stupid asshole, and Cole found himself upstate doing time for murder.

Determined, he marched to her table and placed the engagement ring on it.

“We need to talk,” he all but barked.

She recoiled. Christy might have been whitish before, but now she was definitely turning green.
Very smooth, asshole. Great way to start
. He was coming on too strong. Scaring her. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, forcing his jaw to unlock and his shoulders to relax. He attempted a smile, but he’d been scowling at her for so long, it probably came out as a grimace.

Christy’s companion looked at her, then at him, made up some shitty excuse he didn’t even listen to, and literally ran away. So far so good. Ignoring Christy’s silence, he went ahead and sat down. “I believe this is yours.”

“Huh?” She floundered, and he lost track for a second.

Man, she was so fucking beautiful. Huge chocolate-brown eyes, mahogany hair, sweet, delicate features. Gorgeous mouth. As if whoever had made her had him in mind. Except for her highly questionable taste in music—if what she listened while working was anything to go by—and that inscription on the inside of her right wrist, that is.
Numquam Satis
. Never Enough, if his Latin wasn’t too rusty. He wasn’t terribly fond of tattoos, especially not on women, but at this stage he was so far gone for the chick he was more than ready to overlook it.

“The ring,” he said, pointing at the table. “I don’t know if you remember, but you told me to give it to charity. It looks like an expensive ring to me, and you were drunk. I thought after the haze of the alcohol had gone, you’d reconsider and want it back.”

She looked downright mortified. “Damn, there goes a big chunk of my dignity,” she mumbled into her lap, fidgeting with her hands. “Why doesn’t alcohol-induced amnesia work on me? It’d be easier to pretend I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about.”

He waited for her to lift her gaze, and the second she did, he felt sucker punched. Jeez, that happened every damn time. She had the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. Big and warm and expressive, bottomless pits able to pull a man in so deep one could easily lose himself in them and never find his way out. Mesmerizing witch eyes.

“I don’t drink often. I get all sorts of stupid. Sorry you had to see that.”

“No biggie. You were…entertaining.”

“I bet,” she said, her voice thick with embarrassment, and then she pouted. God protect him, what the sight of those sultry lips did to him should be illegal. Hell, it probably was in several states. He could catalog—numerically, alphabetically, and by theme—the gazillion fantasies he had about what he wanted to do to those sexy, soft lips, and what he wanted them to do to him.

“But that was a good call,” she explained, totally oblivious to his lecherous thoughts. “I don’t want it back. The ring, I mean. Yes, I was…plastered last Friday, but my head was very clear on the subject.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you sure?” He didn’t have the time or the patience for convoluted arrangements. No, thank you, too old for that shit.

“Absolutely. This is twice you’ve brought it back. I warn you, mister, the third time I might get offended and get violent with you,” she joked, offering him a tentative smile.

He held his hands up. “Just making sure. If Mrs. Patty down at the Salvation Army gets this rock, it’s going to be impossible to get it back. She’ll hold on to it for dear life.”

The girl smiled sadly. “As far as I’m concerned, she can hold on to it until hell freezes over. I won’t ask for it back.”

He didn’t care, so he wasn’t going to ask. No way. Not his business.

“Is it over, then?” he heard himself asking. “Your engagement, I mean.”

Mo-ron.

She visibly stiffened, her lips pursed in reproach. “How did you know about my engagement?”

Come on, he might never have bought an engagement ring for a woman, but he sure as hell knew what they looked like. And he’d pumped Aunt Maggie for information…repeatedly. She didn’t know much. Christy’s unbelievable fuckwad fiancé had pulled some kind of crazy stunt. She’d called the whole wedding off at the last second and come to stay with Annie. Luckily for him, or maybe not so luckily for him if his current stupid, juvenile behavior was anything to go by.

He opted to go with the shorter explanation though. “Small town,” he said, waving his hand around. “New face,” he finished, pointing at her.

“Yes, my engagement is over. What more did you hear?”

“Not much. Not as much as I’d like to. You’re a peculiar librarian. Not at all what we’re used to.” And damn hot. Mrs. Wilkinson had never looked so hot. Not a single day in all her forty years in the job.

She chuckled. “Probably because I’m no librarian. I don’t even like traditional books all that much,” she said, her gaze straying to the e-reader near her. “I landed the job by coincidence. I majored in software engineering. I’m basically a computer nerd with a knack for compartmentalization.”

He studied her. She didn’t look like a nerd to him. Far from it. Although that explained all the iGizmos she always carried around.

“Why did you volunteer for the position then?”

Surely a software engineer had better things to do than accept a temporary, part-time job with nominal pay at best.

“Honestly? I really don’t know,” she said pensively. “Boredom? My mornings were free.”

He felt the muscles of his jaw tightening. She’d been literally torturing him for a whole month with her presence, and there had been no reason for it besides boredom.

“You’re doing a hell of a job.” And never better said. If she could bend him into so many knots without trying and out of boredom, he didn’t want to know what she could do to him once she put her mind to it. Fucking scary. He should start running and not look back. Head for the hills. Take care of his hard-on the old-fashioned way: by himself, or spend a whole week nailing someone else to the wall until his dick gave up out of sheer exhaustion and he could go back to his tidy, detached existence.

“Thanks.” She shrugged. “Mrs. Wilkinson had everything under control, in a very traditional sort of way. I’m just moving things forward.”

Yeah, well, when Mrs. Wilkinson came back from her convalescence and found her library fully computerized, she was going to have a stroke. A second one.

“Here you go,” Penny, the diner’s owner, said, leaving a diet soda on the table. “Your lunch will be here in a minute. Hi there,” she added, looking toward Cole. “Anything for you?”

“Hi, Penny.” He greeted her with a smile and then turned to Christy. “I’m hungry too. Do you mind if I eat lunch with you?” He tried to relax his stiff muscles, offering Christy what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She didn’t seem too impressed, but clearly she was too polite to refuse. Good. He’d use whatever he got, polite awkwardness included. “Great. I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

“You got it,” Penny said and left after giving a second, very curious glance at the engagement ring on the table.

Maybe he hadn’t thought this through. This was going to get gossip going, but whatever. He already got too much airtime in this town. What difference would a little more make?

He turned his attention to Christy. Time to speed things up. “I’m not comfortable disposing of your ring. Too personal. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

“What…?” The woman sitting in front of him was having some trouble following his line of thought. Frankly it looked like she was totally at a loss.

“What do you think about going out to dinner with me? Today? Italian?”

She looked at him, downright horrified.

“Hi, Cole.”

He winced. Rose Stapleton was standing beside them with that sweeter-than-sweet smile of hers that never failed to give him stomach cramps.

“Hello.” He nodded at her.

As usual she didn’t acknowledge anyone else and didn’t take her eyes off him. If she’d seen the ring—and he’d bet his left nut she had—she masterfully feigned disinterest. “Such a coincidence to run into you, especially as I was going to call you today. Divine intervention.”

Christy let out a derisive snort.

He was right there with her. Coincidence and divine intervention, his ass.

“What do you want?” he asked as politely as he could. The faster he got this conversation done and dusted, the faster he could get back to the matter at hand. Although with Rose, who knew? Spoiled brat that she was, small things tended to take ages to solve, especially if they didn’t go the way she wanted.

“You know I was asked to be the head of the committee for the festivities, right? Huge responsibility. Especially since this year it’s turned into a whole month of celebrations. I’m swamped. There are so many things to do and so little time to get them done. I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to help a damsel in distress. Drop by our provisional headquarters this afternoon. I’d like to run some ideas by you. And we need someone strong to carry stuff,” she added, pawing his arm.

Oh shit, this was a never-ending nightmare. Why oh why did James have to get engaged? Cole loved Tate to pieces, but come on, this was fucking annoying already. This was open season, and he was a sitting duck. If it continued much longer, he was going to move to Florida with his dad. On second thought, no, forget that. It was worse down there, way worse. You came back a lovesick puppy. James was the living proof of that.

He moved his arm away from her. “I’ll try, Rose, but I’m busy today. I can ask one of my men to pass by to help.” She looked disappointed. Her puppy-dog eyes stared at him, pleading, hopeful. Fuck. “Five minutes, that’s all I can promise, Rose. Five minutes, not a second more.”

“Great!” she squeaked, and before he could stop her, she was hugging him and trying to squeeze herself onto the bench.

He stiffened. No fucking way. That was it for Mr. Nice Guy. He grabbed her by her wrists and forced her to break the embrace. “Rose…”

Then Penny came with Tate’s lunch. “Moving along, Rose. I need the aisle free and your ass is in my way. And this table is for two, so don’t even think about sitting here. I know you’re going for that Corpse Bride look, but not even you’re skinny enough to fit your bony ass there. Now move it.”

Rose looked mutinously at her, but Penny wouldn’t budge, so she left in a huff.

After running Rose away, Penny winked to Cole.
You’re welcome
, she mouthed.

God bless her soul; she was so getting a huge tip.

As Penny left, the loaded silence between him and Christy stretched to uncomfortable lengths. She now had a suspicious look on her face. Fuck, she was gorgeous.

Finally she broke the silence. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She sounded a bit irritated. “Why would you want to go out to dinner with me? You have your pick of women at every turn, as evidenced by this little intrusion.”

“You mean Rose?” he asked.

She snorted without a shred of humor. “Like you haven’t noticed the way she flirted and shoved her tits up in your face. And just so you know, at the counter there is a cute red-haired tigress eating you up with her eyes and waiting for her turn.”

He turned around. Yeah, that was Marie, in full hunting mode.

Cole lifted his shoulders. “Can’t do anything about the watching. It’s a free country.”

“Right. You’ve ignored me for as long as I’ve been here. Why the sudden interest?”

She was damn delusional if she thought any part of his interest was sudden. It had been brewing so long now it was going to explode at any second. His cock was permanently hard. Harder than ever before. And that was just from looking at her and imagining how it was going to feel to spread her legs open and plunge into her balls-deep. He didn’t want to think what was going to happen during the actual deeds; he might explode into a thousand pieces.

“I didn’t ignore you. I’ve been waiting.” For his mind to reboot, mainly. Before she could question him any further, he lunged forward. “So what do you say? Are you game for going out tonight?”

“No, thanks.”

Her words caught him by surprise, especially since her eyes said otherwise. “What do you mean ‘no, thanks’?”

“Just not interested,” she blatantly lied. Women were as much of a mystery to him as to the next poor fucker, but he’d learned some things in his years around females. She was many things; “not interested” was not one of them.

“Are you positive? Because the other day I got another impression.” He hadn’t caught their conversation, but she’d thrown the ring away and she sure as hell had seemed ready to get on with her life. With her sex life, at least.

Something clicked in her head, for her sweet brown eyes darkened almost to black, and her gaze turned hard. “Ah, I get it now. How stupid of me not to realize this before. This is about sex. Let’s cut to the chase here; what you’re really asking is if I’d be game to jump into bed with you, right?”

Her smile was so strained his neck prickled. He should tread with care. This was a trick question if there ever was one. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either. We’re both consenting adults. No reason why we shouldn’t enjoy…”

One second she was dangerously still. The next she was fuming.

She gripped extra hard on the knife and fork.

“Perfect,” she mumbled to herself while energetically stabbing the poor baked potato to death. “Just perfect.” She recklessly pointed the knife at him. “You didn’t lose any time jumping the gun, did you? Just out of curiosity, do you already have a tariff in mind? Do I get a certain discount for being so pathetically desperate? Or is it the other way around? The worse the case, the bigger the bucks? Or am I just a charity fuck?”