“I’m Rachel,” she says, staring at me without blinking, ahuge, slightly-creepy smile on her face. “I’ve been watching you… On the calendar.”
I swallow hard. “Oh yeah?”
I’m praying for the fire alarm to go off so I have an excuse to jump on the truck and speed out of here.
This damn calendar. When is this nightmare of a year going to be over?
I did it to raise money for the library after it burned down. I didn’t expect the thing to goviral. And I certainly didn’t expect it to give me an army of stalkers. I never would have agreed tothat.
I like to keep to myself and stay quiet. I’ve always been uncomfortable with that kind of attention. I’d rather blend in rather than being looked at and this stupid calendar has left me feeling exposed in a way I’ve never felt before.
I don’t like it.
I like beingneededby the community, but I don’t care for beingdesiredby random women. The other guys may like it, but it’s not my thing.
“I brought you something,” she says, lifting the basket and putting it on the counter. “I could tell from your picture that you like gardening.”
Doug, watching from the doorway, lets out a low appreciative whistle. “Classy move.”
I take the basket because not taking it feels rude, even though I immediately regret it. She’s going to take it as a positive sign and that’s not a good thing. “That’s… thoughtful.”
All of this… It feels… exposing. Like something private got dragged into the open without my permission.
I was gardening on the roof of the firehouse when James’ girl, Victoria, snapped the photo of me. It’s a closeup taken from below. I’m shirtless, wearing my suspenders and firefighter pants, mid-laugh. My dirty hands are cupped together and there’s a small mound of soil in them with a tiny green sprout standing proudly.
Rachel takes a deep breath and puffs out her chest. “I waswondering if maybe you’d like to grab a drink sometime? Or coffee? Or?—”
I don’t let her finish. I keep my voice calm. Gentle. Respectful.
“I’m really flattered,” I say honestly. “But I’m not looking to date right now.”
Her smile flickers. Just a little. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nods quickly, too quickly. “No, that’s okay. I just thought I’d try.”
She yanks the basket out of my hands before I can say another word, turns, and practically runs out without looking back. The bell over the door jingles as the door closes, too cheerful for how awkward the moment feels.
I stand there for a second, staring at nothing.
Doug explodes, throwing his arms in the air.
“You turned her down?!” he shouts. “Are you serious?”
I sigh and head into the back. “Yeah.”
“Why?” Doug demands, following hot on my heels. “She washot. She brought gifts. What more do you want, man?”
“Gifts?” Mason asks, perking up. “Anything to eat?”
“No,” Doug says. “Gardening tools.”
“Oh,” Mason says, sinking back down, looking disappointed.
My head is spinning. What moredoI want? Whatiswrong with me?
She seemed perfectly nice. She looked like the kind of girl that I could bring home to my family. That my mom and sisters would like.
