Page 2 of Rock and a Hard Place

“Yeah,” she answered softly. “It’s really dumb, though,” she added, trying to sound normal and not like the insecure girl she’d become. She pulled back and forth at the pendant around her neck.

“Why’s it dumb?” His deep blue eyes gazed at her.

She shrugged. “It just is. It doesn’t mean anything—it’s just something to do.” She pressed the pencil hard against the pad and broke the lead.

“Can I see it?” Peter reached for the pad.

Libby’s face heated. “I don’t know. It’s really nothing to look at.” She pulled the bound papers close; her fist gripped the pencil tight.

When she didn’t offer him the drawing, he moved next to her. He leaned close and took the pad, and his fingers brushed against hers. He sat so near, their legs bumped.

She wanted to reach out and touch him. His blond hair was still streaked by summer sun and hung past his eyebrows and over his eyes. He smelled good. Like guy soap and dryer sheets.

Peter studied the drawing, then wrinkled his brow as if it wasn’t what he expected. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and looked sideways at her. She noticed a touch of razor stubble on his jaw.

“It’s not of me,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“Why would it be?”

“Well, you’ve been sitting here watching me and my brothers, so I figured you must be drawing one of us.” He handed back the drawing, a bit sheepish.

“Wow. Kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?” she teased, feeling brave for a moment. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just a bunch of wildflowers.”

Libby couldn’t get over this cute guy sitting so close. He moved right into her space as if it was no big deal, but to her it was. She struggled to sit still and not stare at him as her pulse raced.

He studied her, then shook his head.

“Well, it’s not very good,” he declared, but the corner of his mouth turned up as he fought back a grin. His eyes sparkled.

“Now you’re just being mean,” she teased again, surprising herself, and feeling a glimpse of her old self.

Still, she scooted a few inches away to recover from theawkwardness of being so close. Plus, this way she could sit and look straight at him. He had great eyes.

“Sorry, that’s the best I could come up with. You’re right. I was mean,” he said. “Not a good start here. Let’s begin again.” He laughed, then leaned forward and held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

She looked from his outstretched hand to his friendly face. Happiness wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, and this guy, Peter, with his careless good looks and confident attitude, made her stomach flip.

“Hi, Peter. I’m Libby.”

They shook hands and smiled. His hand felt warm and strong.

“So, Libby, do you come here often?”

She rolled her eyes at the lame question. “Yeah, pretty often. Mostly on the weekends.” Every chance she got was more like it. Anything to get away from the confines of the house.

“So you must live around here.” He looked around for nearby homes.

Libby didn’t want him to notice the run-down farmhouse in the distance, so she just nodded. She didn’t associate herself with the house, its owner, or even the town. “What’s with the über bus? You on vacation?” She twisted her pendant on its thin leather cord.

“Not really. We live in it when we’re on tour.” He raised an eyebrow, aware of her not-so-smooth change of topic.

“What do you mean ‘tour’? Like a vacation tour of the country?”

He laughed. “No, actually, we’re on tour promoting our album, Triple Threat,” he said with pride in his voice.

“Your family is in a band?”

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