Page 18 of I Need You

“Perfect. She’s a natural,” I tell her.

“Great. Do you think you’re ready to make deliveries today?” Bea asks Aubrey.

Aubrey’s eyes widen, but she nods yes in reply.

“Here,” Bea says, handing me a card, “free sandwich on me as a thank you.”

I take the card from her and shove it into my pocket, thanking her.

“I should get going. There’s some stuff I need to take care of on campus,” I say, backing up toward the door.

Bea gives me a wave and continues counting out the money.

“Bye Aubrey, see you around soon I’m sure,” I say, giving her another wide smile and a wink for good measure.

She rolls her eyes at me again in response. I laugh under my breath and walk out the door. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m enjoying pulling the feistiness out of Aubrey way too much.

Chapter eight

Aubrey

AfterBeaissufficientlyconvinced she’s gone over everything I might need to know about making deliveries, I leave the small shop with a basket full of orders. Apparently, Bea opened up delivery orders for the college campus a few weeks ago, not expecting to get much. She got quite a few and was having to close down the shop for an hour every day to deliver them all herself.

I pull Shelby onto the curb near the library on campus to drop off the first sandwiches. When I walk inside, I inhale the scent of the books. The comfy leather chairs and books are calling my name, but I’m here to do a job, and I want to make Bea proud. Plus, I seriously need the money. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get out of my house.

I walk to the large circular desk in the middle of the library, checking the name on the ticket of the delivery bag. Taylor. I stop dead in my tracks. He’s leaning over a book resting on the counter, chewing on a pen stuck in his mouth. His brows are pulled together in concentration, which is completely adorable. He’s wearing a plain black v-neck shirt that hugs his broad chest and his muscular arms. He must sense me gawking at him because his eyes raise, meeting mine. A wide grin crosses his face, never breaking eye contact. I, however, instantly look down at my feet. Nervous and embarrassed.

“Hi,” he says, his voice laced with something–I don’t know what.

I slowly look back up at him and manage a small smile. I don’t say anything, I simply keep staring at that beautiful smile.

“Is that um–,”

He points the pen he pulled from his mouth at me and I look down.

The bag. The freaking sandwich. Of course.

“Oh, yes. Um, Taylor?” I say, finally gathering my wits and walking closer to the desk.

“Oh, is that for me?” says a bright voice coming from my left.

I look over and see the cute blonde that works here, too. The one who helped me when I checked out the romance novel. I look between her and the guy behind the counter. Now completely confused and unsure of who is or is not Taylor.

“I—uh–Taylor?” I say again to both of them this time.

“Yup. That’s me,” the petite blonde says, holding out a five-dollar bill.

I hold the sandwich bag out to her and thank her for the tip.

When Bea explained I would get to keep any tips I got, I was shocked and ecstatic. My dream of being able to leave my parents’ house might actually be achievable between getting paid hourly for the deliveries and getting tipped. I’m at least five dollars closer to freedom. That reminds me, I really need to find some time to sneak down to the library and use a computer to research how much money it’s actually going to take to move out.

I sneak another glance at the boy behind the counter as I’m walking toward the exit, when suddenly I crash into something–or someone.

Emmett is standing in front of me, his hands holding onto my upper arms. His skin on mine is warm and soft. His hands are grasping my arms a hair below where my work t-shirt ends. The skin he’s touching tingles and my voice catches in my throat. We’re both simply standing there, still and silent. Emmett’s pinky finger moves, almost unnoticeable, brushing up and down against the delicate skin on the back of my arms. His lips part and he inhales.

The haze clouding my thoughts lifts, and I take a step back. His hands fall from my arms.

“You should really pay better attention to where you’re walking,” he says.

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