Page 13 of Stalked By the Recruiter

“What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he repeated. There wasn’t an ounce of pity in his stare. I didn’t know what to expect.Liar, you were expecting him to hightail it from your high-maintenance, way too broken, complicated mess!

“No,” I answered and ignored how disappointed I felt. “I should get going. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Montoya.” I extended my hand, and he looked at it. I could tell he didn’t like to be turned down, and I fully expected him to try again.

If he did, I’d know he was just like my ex. Pushy and demanding. Asking too much from me and always needing to have his way.

But Andres didn’t.

Instead, he took my hand. It was warm and rough. My eyes dropped from his to look at our hands together. There was something beautiful about his. Tanned and big. So much bigger than any other man’s I’d ever noticed. I could feel the calloused skin on his palm, and something inside me tingled. Wondered what it would feel all over my body. The thought heated the very core of me.

Something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

“It was nice to meet you, too. Thanks for help with the book.” He lifted it between us, and I found myself relaxing. And instantly regretting having turned him down.

“Right.” My smile wobbled, and I shook the emotion away. “Hope you, umm… enjoy it. It’s a good one. It’s a great series,” I rambled. “I should probably get going.”

“Right,” he said, but we didn’t move. Neither of us. We just stood there looking at one another as something built between us. A heady energy that made everything in my body throb. Andres’ square jaw clenched, and I wanted nothing more than to move up on the tips of my toes and lick that line. To taste him.

Mine,a little voice whispered. The possessive thought had me stepping back and letting go of his hand.

“Well.” I shut my mouth and waved before I turned and walked to my front door. It took me a moment to find the keys in my tote bag, and after I opened the door and stepped inside, I looked out before I shut the door.

Andres Montoya stood right where I had left him.

Like a sentry. Watching over me with an intense expression I was not going to overanalyze. I closed the door and exhaled roughly.

“What the hell was that all about?” I whispered but didn’t have time to think when Stitch’s footsteps echoed against the tiled floor. He rushed over and barked, letting me know it was time for me to take him out and get him fed.

CHAPTER 4

CARMEN

Sitting outside,I kept tossing the ball to Stitch while music played through the outdoor speaker system I had splurged on. The misters around the perimeter or the covered deck were on, giving me a bit of relief from the summer heat. Heat I knew was only going to get worse as the summer dragged on.

But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable.

I couldn’t get my brain to settle and just let me be. And I knew exactly whose fault it was. My eyes moved to the back of my fence as I wondered what the other side looked like. It’d been two days since Andres had asked me to dinner.

Two days since I’d embarrassed myself by flinching away from his touch. A touch I realized I wished I’d get.

“Now you won’t have the chance,” I mumbled under my breath, then took a healthy sip of my white wine.

A part of me had expected the guy not to show up at the library anymore. He knew. He might not have known the gory details, but he would have got the picture. But he hadn’t stopped showing up at the end of my workday.

Turning in one blue alien romance and asking for the next. For two days.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, like clockwork, he walked home with me.

Stitch licked my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. I smiled at my boy and picked up the ball he’d dropped at my feet and tossed it again. My thoughts drifted to the man who lived behind me once again. I didn’t like to admit how much I was starting to look forward to our little chats as we walked home. I did miss the way he hadn’t tried to touch me. Not a brush of his arm against mine, nothing. And he also hadn’t asked me to dinner again.

His backyard lights were on.

I hated how my attention kept drifting over to the fence line that separated our properties. I even lowered the volume of my music, my ears strained to hear him in his yard. To make out a sound, anything that would give me a hint he was back there. And if he was, what was he doing? Was he just sitting and enjoying the night, too? Or was he sitting around watching his side of the fence, wondering about me?

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. I was the one with a crush now. And regret.

I was too far away to actually hear anything. Stitch scratched at the French doors, letting me know he was done playing catch and wanted to head back inside. I didn’t blame him. It was later, but it was still warm. I stood and opened the door.

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