“How?” Meg asks.
“I’m going to start at the library,” Taylor tells her. “I hope that someone there might be able to tell me what kind of books people in Angel Mountain like to read. And then I can make sure to get a lot of those kinds of books.”
I have to admit, that’s a pretty good plan.
“Smart,” Meg says admiringly.
“It might help,” Taylor says. “On the other hand, the real answer I’ll be getting is what kind of books people in Angel Mountain like toborrow, not what they like to buy.Do you have any ideas?”
“You could ask people,” Meg suggests.
“Like just go up to them?” Taylor asks. “In New York, they would roll their eyes at me and keep walking.”
That makes Meg giggle.
“But you might be onto something. If there’s actually a good way to ask,” Taylor wonders out loud.
“You could put it in the newspaper,” Meg suggests.
“That’s an interesting idea,” Taylor tells her. “Hey, can you help me move these books from the shelf to the floor?”
The two of them get to work in earnest, and I apply myself to my own task, trying my best to focus on the radio instead of their voices.
But it’s not easy. Their light patter is irritatinglyseductive, especially the way Taylor acknowledges everything Meg says, like she’s an adult.
I feel like a guard dog being offered a steak to lure it away from its post.
But that won’t happen, my heart is under lock and key. I know what my future holds. And it’s not a too-young city girl with stars in her eyes.
I won’t let it be.
4
TAYLOR
The next morning, I’m dressed and ready to go before the sun is up, excited to explore the local library.
I know I should be exhausted after yesterday, and physically I am. Between moving everything around and ripping up half the carpet, I was pretty worn outbeforethe tree exploded through the window.
And then that incredible picnic and surprisingly good company gave me a second wind, and I got a few of the books moved a second time.
Well, Meg was good company at least.
Her dad is a different story. He blows hot and cold. Which is pretty typical for guys, in my opinion. It’s just that normally they blow hot until you start to really like them andthenthey suddenly aren’t sure they want anything serious.
Roan Connelly’s gaze might be heated, but hisattitude is cold as ice. How he raised such an open-hearted and laid-back daughter, I’ll never know, but I’m glad he did.
Meg is a treasure, and it will be nice to have her around.
I’ll just have to keep Roan at arm’s length.
The only trouble with that is I kind of like him, and not just his rugged good looks. I like the way he is with Meg, even if he’s weird and gruff with me. And I like the way he stormed in and took charge of making things right with the window too.
And of course we wouldn’t have had a picnic on the floor last night without his good idea—even if he didn’t say much and mostly just left Meg and me to chat aboutA Wrinkle in Time.
I head downstairs and enjoy the sight of half my wood floor in the sunlight. Pulling on my coat, I wonder if I can finish up at the library quickly enough to put in another hour or two on the store before lunch.
Speaking of which, I have to get to the grocery store today. If it hadn’t been for Roan’s Christmas tree incident, I probably wouldn’t have eaten anything but mac and cheese for the last twenty-four hours.
