Page 4 of Snowed Under

I don’t know how I became so damned philosophical, but maybe Ainsley brings it out in me. However, I don’t think a few words of encouragement and positivity could harm her after her news.

One thing is for sure though, having Ains moving in next door is a welcome surprise. And for some reason, it has me grinning from ear to ear.

CHAPTER 2

AINSLEY

It’sclear I’ve had my head buried in the sand.

I should’ve known this was Cole’s neighborhood. I’ve known him for a few years now, but I guess I’ve never had any reason to question where he lives.

I watch as he heads back to his house, and is it just at this very moment I’ve only noticed his swagger? I lift my eyes from his ass.I should not be looking.

Then again, why shouldn’t I look? I wanted to break up with Drake. I initiated it. Moving in with him was a disaster, and even if I know it’s a good thing that I left, it’s still difficult when someone you thought you could trust breaks it.

I’ve never been the popular girl. I’m not tall, overtly pretty, nor do I have rich parents or the right last name. But I have wit and intelligence, and my skin can be clear and prettyish if my hair isn’t giving me grief. Not that any of that matters. There’s too much pressure on women, in my opinion, to look a certain way. And I’m okay with not looking perfect. I try to be a good person and I always give my all — like with Drake. And where did that get me?

I’m too hard on myself, and being the product of an affair — and a father who’s never really acknowledged me, except for that unsigned birthday card every year — I guess you could say I have issues. I don’t blame my mom; she had no idea my sperm donor was married. He told a lot of lies and my mom raised me on her own. The only intelligible thing I’ll say about him is he paid child support without a fuss. The only person he cares about is himself. I’ve met my half-sisters twice. One loathes me, the other was only nine at the time, and didn’t really know who I was. Sperm donor’s wife can’t bear to look at me, which I get, it couldn’t have been easy on her. But hey, it wasn’t my fault my parents tangoed and the man I don’t-call-Dad couldn’t keep it in his pants. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been a bit of a people pleaser. My therapist years ago told me not to fall into the trap of being good only for needy men. Apparently wanting your father’s attention and acknowledgement affects you later in life, too. Double bonus. Way to go Dad.

Still, I don’t think I have ‘daddy’ issues, and I definitely don’t want a bad boy. Maybe that’s exactly why I seem to attract the wrong kind of men. Not that there’s been that many. Drake was my first real boyfriend.

I get ready for bed early, shower and watch some YouTube home decorating channels on my phone because my life really is that depressing and I don’t have my TV hooked up yet.

I try not to think about Cole and how sweet he was. I’m not dumb enough to think he’s into me. I’ve heard the stories; all seven inches of them. If those rumors are true, then good god. Not that I want to be thinking about Cole’s member. As sweet as he is, he also has a reputation. Not that he isn’t a nice guy. In fact, you’d be hard to find a woman who has a bad thing to say about Cole Garrison. If he wasn’t such a ladie’s man, he’d be quite the catch. He has a good job in construction, his own place, a nice personality, smart,cute ass…I cuss under my breath. It’s the break-up blues, that’s what it is. Cole’s been around for as long as I can remember, and while I’ve got eyes and can admire him from afar, he always seemed a little out of reach.

Aside from the obvious — nobody seems to be gung-ho for librarians like me in real life or take them seriously. Or maybe that’s just my ex? There’s the fanciful idea that Cole could be boyfriend material. That one makes me laugh. He can’t be serious for five minutes, much less be in a long-term relationship with a woman who knows what she wants.

Then again, I’m not judging. To each their own and all of that.

I’m only twenty-five, but I’ve always loved living in a small town. Starting out at a small community college for my associate’s degree, I then transferred to college to complete my four-year bachelor’s degree through scholarships and grants. I worked two jobs, paid for housing my first year, and became a resident assistant for the rest of it. I’m proud of what I achieved with little debt, and when I landed the job back in Silver Pines, I jumped at the opportunity to come home. I’d been working for a year or so in Denver, and really enjoyed it. My missing home was a big thing, and never really thought a position would ever come up. Margaret Townsend is the longest serving librarian in Silver Pines and kept things orderly ever since I was a girl, and nobody saw her retirement coming; mainly because she literally transformed this place over thethirty years she worked here. I admire her a lot and we still message each other. She pops in all the time and keeps me on the straight and narrow, plus she’s still heavily involved on the Silver Pines committee, so it’s not like we’re strangers. There’s more to running a library than most people think. If it were just Dewey decimal systems and putting books on a shelf, I wouldn’t have put myself through years of college, but honestly, it’s the best job in the world.

When I arrive at work the next morning, I see the usual suspects waiting at the door.

Hank Langdon and his two kids. I watch them between seven forty-five and eight fifteen most weekdays until the school bus arrives, so Hank can get to work on time. Debbie meets the kids at the other end. She’s a teacher’s assistant and has the patience of a saint. Hank works between here and Alpine Falls; the neighboring town, which is an hour’s drive away, so we all do what we can to help out. Being a single dad and doing the right thing for his kids, it’s the least I can do while I’m setting up for the day. They’re good kids, too, and never any bother.

“Morning!” I holler, waving my keys at them.

Hank turns and smiles. “Hello, Ainsley.”

Molly runs up to me and gives me a hug. She’s seven and adorable, and Oscar — who’s a little more reserved being he’s eight — waves his Batman figurine at me. “Hello.”

“Guess what we did on the weekend?” Molly squeaks.

I don’t even take a breath. “Skydiving?”

She laughs. “No!”

“Uh, you entered the Silver Pines Bake Off competition and won?”

She giggles. “No!”

“Unless you went fly-fishing and caught a smelly old Wellington boot and a bunch of tin cans, I have no clue.”

She jumps up and down, clearly excited about the story. “Daddy took us camping!”

I cock a brow at Hank and he shrugs. “Is this true, Mr. Langdon? Did you subject your kids to the great outdoors again this weekend?” I put on my most stern voice and the kids fall about laughing.

“We pitched a tent and got eaten alive by mosquitoes,” Oscar finishes before Hank can say anything.

---