Page 27 of Wrecked for Love
I wracked my brain for a more distinct memory of the boy I’d seen at The Willow, but any description I gave her would probably narrow it down to, what, twenty?
I waved her off. “Never mind.”
She was about to press the question when her brow furrowed as if her super-hearing had picked up something outside the stockroom through the open back door. She tugged at my sleeve and pointed toward the entrance just as the glass doors slid open.
Shit…
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding Rancher from that rainy night.
The guy I’d tried to write into my revamped romance novel from years ago, but instead, he kept sneaking into my dreams.
I forced a nonchalant expression despite the way my pulse quickened. “Who’s that?” I feigned ignorance.
“Elia Lucas,” Annette replied, her voice dropping a bit.
“How’d you know it was him?” I asked, playing along.
“I recognized the sound of his truck.”
I gave her a teasing look. “Seriously? You got a thing for him or something?”
Annette’s face scrunched up like she’d swallowed a lemon. “Hell no. He’s old enough to be my father.” Then she paused, reconsidering. “Well, I guess if he had me when he was twelve, maybe…”
I chuckled. “He’s a good-looking guy though.”
Annette shot me a sly grin. “Youhave a thing!”
I rolled my eyes, hoping to brush it off. “Nope. Not my type, sorry.” The more I pretended, the more a fluttery unease settledlow in my belly, like the kind of feeling you get when you know you’re telling yourself a lie.
Elia was browsing the aisles. Damn it. He hadn’t changed a bit. If anything, he was even more put-together. He wore a gray shirt, the kind that looked soft with wear. The sleeves were rolled up casually, showing off his strong, sun-kissed forearms.
“Not your type, huh?” Annette wasn’t buying it. She nudged me with her elbow. “Then why are you studying him so hard?”
“Maybe because good-looking men are rare around here,” I said, keeping it casual, using the moment to take him in a little longer.
Especially that scruff on his jaw, a few days past clean-shaven, like he didn’t have time for the little things, but you could tell he still took care of himself. His leather belt, beaten up but reliable, held everything together, and it was like it had been through as much as he had but was still holding strong. Everything about him screamed capable and steady, like he could fix anything and look damn good doing it.
“He comes in pretty often,” Annette said, her gaze still on Elia. “His farm’s on the edge of town. He could’ve gone to the next town for supplies—it’s closer—but he’s loyal to Buffaloberry.”
“That right?”
“Though I haven’t seen him on your shifts. Maybe he’s been avoiding you.”
I tried to laugh, but my gaze lingered on him a bit too long. Seizing the moment, I turned to fire a jab at my cheeky coworker. “If you don’t have a thing for him, why’d you drag me over here like a teenager in love? And now look at us, hiding behind the shelves like we’re in the world’s most awkward meet-cute.”
Annette giggled, ducking behind a stack of paint cans. “He’s just…I don’t know. People say he keeps to himself. There are rumors, you know?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Rumors?”
“Yeah, some people say his family just up and left one day. Others say…well, there could’ve been foul play. He might not be the man you think he is.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “Oh, so what’s the theory now? He’s a werewolf?”
Annette burst out laughing, her voice carrying through the store, almost catching Elia’s attention. We ducked behind the shelf just in time, both of us stifling our giggles as we scrambled back to work.
“Well,” Annette said, still trying to catch her breath, “he’s never caused any trouble, that’s for sure. I think he just buries himself in work.”
As Annette and I went back to restocking the shelves, my mind drifted back to Elia. Sooner or later, I’d bump into him again. It was inevitable in a place this small. The question was, what the hell was I going to say when I did?
