Wild (2 page)

“Sure about that?”

“Of course. I’m not an idiot. It’s a furnace filter.” I glared and rummaged through some paint chips. The entire house needed a new coat of paint if I was going to spend any time there.

“That what Barton told you?” He was referring to my landlord, and the fact that he had this information at all made me a little uncomfortable.

“No, but furnace filters are pretty standard, I’ve never met one that required anything other than a sixteen by twenty.”

“Furnaces are standard nowadays, but the place you’re staying, Sugar, was built in the forties and I know for a fact that old man hasn’t replaced the old Lennox furnace in the past twenty years, which means you need a sixteen by twenty-five.”

I shot daggers at him as he peered back at me, an amused grin tilting his lips. A slim-cut plaid shirt caressed the lean lines of his biceps and waist. His long legs spread in a wide stance, arms crossed as he took me in, his bright blue eyes shining as he watched me. “Fine.” I swiped the filter he’d picked up from his hands. “And don’t call me Sugar.”

“You seemed to like it the other night.” His lips dusted along my earlobe and sent shivers straight to the apex of my thighs. My breath came out in ragged pants and my eyes fluttered closed as I tried to control my reaction to him.

“Well, that was then; this is now. Don’t call me Sugar,” I replied without looking at him. A hearty chuckle escaped his throat as he snatched the old filter from my hands and returned it to its proper bin.

“You should think about replacing it more often; the salt really wreaks havoc around here on the ducts.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled as I turned to head to the counter.

“Anytime, Sug—”

I shot him a glare that stopped him in his tracks.

“What did you say your name was again?” He tilted his head to the side, dark hair falling over his forehead deliciously. It pissed me off how boyish and devilishly sexy he could look all at the same time.

“I didn’t.” I continued down the aisle and toward the old man at the counter.

“Right. Well, if you need anything, just ask this guy; he knows where to find me. I’m—”

“I’m good, but thanks for the help.” I cut him off before he could say anymore. I didn’t want connections, wasn’t interested in a relationship, and wanted to avoid any reference to the few hours we’d spent in a drunken haze a few nights ago. It was becoming clear I’d made an epic mistake. I hadn’t been looking for a hookup but after keeping to myself for so long, and the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at me, that sexy grin tipping his features, I’d thrown caution to the wind and landed beneath him with my legs spread.

Delicious as it had been, six foot three and sexy was now biting me in the ass.

He arched an eyebrow before shaking his head, a heart-stopping grin lifting one side of his mouth, before he turned and walked out of the hardware store.

“Find everything all right?” The weathered gentleman behind the counter smiled sweetly at me.

“Yes, thanks.”

“What’d you say your name was?”

“I didn’t, but it’s Kat.” I busied myself with digging through my wallet and hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Well, welcome to Rock Island, Kat. I’m Murphy. If there’s anything I can ever help you with, just let me know.” He smiled and then rang up my items.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I passed him the money I owed and then headed out the door, the little bell ringing as I left.

The following afternoon, I made my way down Main Street after stocking up on groceries at the tiny store in the middle of town. I drove slowly, taking in the small, sea-battered town with graying shingles and bowed roofs. There was a small library in town that I’d already frequented a few times since I’d been here. The kind old lady at the counter always had a welcoming smile and loved to talk books. I was currently devouring Maine authors: Edna St. Vincent Millay, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and a little Stephen King thrown in for good measure.

I passed the bustling marina where lobster boats were docked and rusted pickup trucks were parked. I slowed to a stop and parked in the small oceanside park, taking in the view. Every morning I had the advantage of seeing the lobstermen head out to check their traps. One man buzzed just offshore from my house. I always stopped to watch and gave a wave when he looked up from hauling the traps.

Watching him daily, regardless of the weather or temperature, served as a reminder that I needed to find a job. I had limited funds and needed to find something to bring in some money and help pass the time.

A car door slammed a few spots down from me, interrupting my thoughts. I watched an old guy step up to someone hidden on the other side of the truck. The old man looked battered and worn, probably a fisherman. They shook hands and the man who’d stepped out of the truck moved around the bumper.

Son of a bitch—it was him. Why couldn’t I escape him? I had to get out of there before he saw me. How mortifying. What if he thought I was following him?

I turned the key in my old car and it made a poor attempt at turning over. I threw my head against the steering wheel as my heart thudded in my chest.

Was this a joke? Was karma out to get me?

Please, dear God, don’t let him see me.

I tried turning the car over again. It rolled and revved and then died.

“Fuck!” I punched the wheel, slipping and hitting the horn. “Oh my God,” I moaned and tried to duck my head in case he looked over. I took a few deep breaths and considered what to do. If I just left my car—ran—maybe I could escape him and come back later for the car. It was a piece of shit anyway, and my cottage was only a mile out of town. I could use a walk in the open air, collect my thoughts, and consider ways to avoid the sexy-as-sin stranger I’d had a one-night stand with.

I licked my lips and hoped it was safe to try starting the car again. I lifted my head and fumbled with the key before shooting a glance out of the corner of my eye to find the aforementioned sexy-as-sin Greek god that I’d let take me up against the wall, on his way toward me, a cocky grin lighting his lips.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself and prayed desperately for the engine to turn over.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me, Sugar.”

I glared at him in response.

“You’re an angry little thing, not sure what I did to deserve that. I thought we had a pretty good time the other night.” Amusement danced in his light blue eyes.

Jesus, those eyes.

My gaze took him in, drank him up, scanned his messy chocolate brown hair and full lips. Sculpted, full lips that had trailed across my skin, along my rib cage, down the dip of my back and over the curve of my ass. He’d worshiped me with those full lips and just thinking about the memory had me squirming.

“All right, Sugar?”

“I told you, don’t call me that.” I bit my bottom lip between my teeth, just to the point of pain to get my mind off our illicit night spent together.

“Right. So you followin’ me? Because if you’re looking for a repeat performance, that could be arranged.” One eyebrow arched in the most delicious way.

God, why did he have to be so arrogant and sexy? I hated arrogant and sexy. It was fucking irresistible.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t even see you here when I pulled in.”

“Sorry to hear that. I have to say, though, the way you were callin’ out to God the other night sounded like you were enjoyin’ yourself.”

My face flamed and I felt the blush prickle up my chest to my cheeks. “You’re an ass.” I turned the key and my old battered Camry flared to life. I threw the car in reverse and heard him laugh as he watched me back out.

“Until next time, Sugar.”

I headed out of the parking lot and caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, that beautiful grin still lighting his lips as he watched me go.

A week went by and I didn’t run into the sexy stranger.

Probably because I didn’t leave the house.

Well, that wasn’t true. I left to go to the library. But that was it. I’d stocked up on food and given myself no reason to leave the cabin, but running out of books was unacceptable. I couldn’t stand not having something to read.

I’d considered getting an e-reader, but I was old-fashioned. I loved the smell of books, the paper beneath my fingers, the evidence in the back of the library book that it had been enjoyed for many years by many people. It filled me up inside.

One afternoon, I wandered through aisles at the library and the old librarian, Mrs. Barton, who I’d quickly come to realize was the wife of my landlord, offered me a job. She’d offered to pay me under the table, which was more than I ever could have hoped for.

I sighed with relief and agreed without hesitation.

The position was only a few days a week; I’d need more at some point. But I had enough savings to live on for a while, and the rent was so cheap I wasn’t blowing through the money I had. Plus, it would give me a purpose. Something to do with my time instead of staring out the window at that rocky coast, watching the boats troll by.

I felt right at home on my first day at the library. After walking me through the Dewey Decimal System and general operation of the library, Claire, as she insisted I call her, left to run some errands. The library didn’t see many patrons. Small town libraries don’t get much traffic, add to that the popularity of e-readers, and they have even less of a place in the fabric of small town life. Claire explained as she was getting older she wanted to spend more time at home with her grandkids, which is why she’d been looking for someone part-time.

I was glad I could be there to help. It felt good to have a purpose. I’d never had the chance at a career; I’d jumped into my life back home feet first and hadn’t looked back. In hindsight, I regretted not going to school—I think I would have gone for creative writing or teaching if I had—but there was no going back. I could only move forward, and the job at the library in this small New England town was enough for me at the moment.

It was early September, and I was tasked with hanging fall decorations per Claire’s orders, when the bell on the door chimed. “Afternoon.” I stepped out from an aisle and ran into a solid slab of chest. My hands went out, steadying myself against hard stomach. My breath caught as my eyes trailed up a lean throat and stubbled jaw to familiar blue eyes that flashed with amusement. His sculpted lips turned up into an amused smile.

I crossed my arms. “Seriously? This is becoming a little stalker-ish.”

His hearty laugh barreled out of his chest as I stood waiting for him to say something, but he remained quiet, his eyes dancing.

“So let me guess, you just popped into the library for a book? So what’s your pleasure? Crafts? Romance? Science fiction?”

“Hmm . . .” A soft groan escaped his throat that had my nerves tingling. “None of those are my pleasure, Sugar, although I think you are well-versed in my preferences.” His hand lifted as if in slow motion. I sensed it coming, but my eyes were locked with his and I couldn’t do anything to thwart his intentions. His thumb dragged across the seam of my lip. My eyes fluttered closed as he swiped across the flesh. My body lit up with lust and a dull throb settled between my thighs.

My heart stuttered a beat before I whipped my eyes open and pulled away. “Hands to yourself, Casanova.” I backed away and beelined for the front desk. The guilt was already nagging at me for involving him in my life anymore than I should have. “Can I help you with something or did you just come in to torment me?” I slipped behind the counter, thankful for the space that now separated us.

“Saw your car out front. Had to see those sweet lips again.” His eyes bounced down to the lips he’d just touched.

“Really? That’s your line?” I cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to steel myself against his rugged good looks. His dark hair lay carelessly across his forehead, his thick sculpted eyebrows arched, and his lips pulled into a devilish grin that emphasized his high cheekbones and stunning light blues eyes, which flashed with dangerous amusement.

He broke out into another laugh, his arms crossing his chest. “You’re sexy when you’re sassy, Sugar.”

“I am not. And cut it with the ‘sugar.’ I’m no one’s sugar, especially not yours.”

“Hmm, is that so?” His eyes scanned my body, landing for a moment on my chest.

“Eyes up, Casanova.”

His eyes flashed to mine, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Can I take you out?” His large body felt imposing in the small space. His energy was engulfing everything around him, sucking the air out of the room and causing oxygen to rush from my lungs.

“Not a chance.”

“Okay, let’s say we skip the date. I just want you back in my bed.”

My mouth dropped open. “Another original line.” I cocked my head to one side.

“Is it working?” He stepped closer and leaned across the counter, invading my space and sweeping the breath from my lungs.

“Nope.”

“Shame. Those lips wrapped around my co—”

“Don’t even go there. I don’t even—that night was a mistake. I hardly remember it and it’s not happening again.” My irritation flared. I’d never met someone so blatantly vulgar.