I haul a spool of wire up the pole, it scrapes against my gloves as I secure it in place. The wind bites at my face, tugging at the brim of my hat. Hands steady, boots dug into the crossbeam, I hook myself in and start the run along the lines.
Electricity hums beneath my fingers, a constant reminder that one slip could be bad news. I check the connections, tighten bolts, and shift the transformer into place.
By the time I climb down, sweat and grime coats my arms. The sun starts to fall, sinking fast behind the rooftops. I hate this time of the year—the way the dark comes creeping in so early. The time change always throws me off, and the shift from work to night hits twice as hard.
And of course, my mind drifts. I can’t stop thinking about her. It shocks me. I rarely notice women anymore, not like this. Not since my ex. The one who taught me to guard my heart like it’s a fragile piece of glass.
And yet here I am, thinking about the gorgeous woman at the bookstore. I want to see her again… have to. I glance at my phone. 6:30. Damn. They close in 30 minutes. Better hurry.
“Hey, you wanna grab a beer?” Paul, one of my buddies shouts across the truck lot.
“Can’t,” I cut him off, already tossing my phone in my pocket.
The engine roars to life as I hop in my truck. I push it into gear and head toward Nook & Fable. The streets blur past under my tires.
I park the truck in front of Nook & Fable and hop out, feeling the chill of the evening air on my skin. The bell over the door jingles as I step inside. I head to my favorite section—the fantasy romance aisle—and start browsing the shelves, though my eyes keep sneaking glances at her.
God. She’s stunning. Black hair pulled into a bun, large framed glasses resting on her cheeks. That low cut top under the overall dress exposing her beautiful soft cleavage. I can’t stopnoticing the big heavy tits hovering over the countertop—the way they move with her behind the counter.
My attention snags on the man approaching the counter, his voice is low and rough. I strain to hear, the words are mumbled.
“No thank you,” her sweet, clear voice answers, and my chest tightens.
The man mutters something else. And she answers with her voice louder this time, “I’m not interested. I…I—” Her worlds falter.
Without thinking, I step closer, boots quiet against the floor. The man leans over the counter, trying to assert himself.
Something in me snaps.
“She said she’s not interested,” I boom, my voice reverberating across the aisle.
The man spins around, eyes widening as he takes in my height, my stance, the weight behind my words. He freezes and I see himweighing his options. I stay planted, letting the space between us do the work.
Her sweet eyes snap up at me, wide and startled, her hands gripping the edge of the counter start to relax. My ego swells at her relief, knowing she’s safe under my watch.
The guy finally swallows, a smirk creeping across his face. “Mind your own business, man,” he mutters.
“I don’t think so,” my gaze flicks to her. “Are you okay? Do you want him to leave?”
She nods quickly.
The guy mutters something under his breath and stalks toward the door, glancing at her once more, almost calculating. But he leaves without another word.
She exhales, letting her shoulders drop. She manages a shaky smile. My chest tightens at the sight. She glances up at me with those soft green eyes, her dark lashes fluttering. “Ready to check out?”
I lift the book, giving a small, distracted smile. “Ah… yes. Definitely.”
She rings it up, the register beeping softly beneath her fingers. I avert my eyes, not realizing I was staring at her cleavage once more.
I think about asking her out, but my mind flashes back to the man that just left. I can’t. Not after that. I want her to feel safe. Instead, I settle for a nod.
I lift the bag with the book, feeling the weight of the tension between us, and step toward the door, knowing I will be back. I have to. Because I can’t stay away from her.
I sit in my truck, the engine roaring to life. An uneasy feeling settles deep in my chest. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, as I replay the man’s sneer—the way he looked at her, thinking he could intimidate her.
Uncontrollable anger brews in me. I force myself to take a breath. The bookstore dooropens, and there she is. She pauses, turns, and locks the door behind her. I’ll just wait for her to get to her car. Safely.
She starts walking down the sidewalk. Wait. She’s walking…home? It’s dark, and she’s alone. My stomach twists.
