Read Me (Forget the Past, #2)

by Lauren Connolly

A set of Icelandic blue eyes trace over my eager form. I’m not sure if Icelandic is technically a shade of blue, but the country name brings to mind sharp icebergs floating in blood-freezing oceans. And that’s his blue. Sharp and cold.

Every number he lists off is correct, and I decide that no man as hot as an inferno should be allowed to talk about library organizational methods. It’s too much. I need a fan. Or a respirator. “Are you a secret librarian?” The corner of his mouth curls. “No.”

I don’t want her to leave me alone. I fight off a frustrated sigh. The cute librarian’s continuous attempts to help me are one of the highlights of my week. This is what happens when I try to impress her. I just fuck it all up.

I’m not the type of guy to badger a woman. When I ask Summer out, if she tells me no, then I’ll accept it. It’ll be hard to give up on the idea of us together. The future where every one of her smiles is for me. But I take a woman’s no seriously. So my goal is to make the word yes so much more appealing. Doesn’t help that I suck at flirting. Pissing people off comes more naturally.

Summer is always wandering around the library, checking in with patrons, offering her assistance when it comes to locating items or answering questions. And she’s always smiling one of those happy-mouth, happy-eyes smiles when she does. I’m the only one that gets angry eyes.

She comes into view, bright red purse over her shoulder, wide smile on her orange-painted lips. The colors should clash, but Summer could wear a technicolor outfit and still look adorable.

As we turn toward the exit, side by side, the greedy part of my brain shouts at me again, demanding I stop waiting. Begging me to make some kind of play. Any type at all. But I don’t. Because a yes is not guaranteed. Instead, I speak low enough so only she can hear. “Chase me whenever you want to.”

Joy makes me light.

He knows my name.

Maybe if I talk about the change of seasons we’ll eventually get around to the one I share my name with, and then I can pretend he’s talking about me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe the lithe way he walks, all casual and smooth. Cat-like. He’s a giant cat, and I want to reach up and scratch behind his ears. Stop it! Not appropriate. But I can’t seem to force my mind to appropriate topics around Cole Allemand.

“Hmm.” Cole keeps his response short, not even a real word. But the way he looks at me seems like a different form of communication. His face holds an entire dialog. Only, I haven’t learned the language yet.

“Anything else you want to know?” Cole’s question brings me back to the present. “Everything. I want to know everything.” Oh no. I just said that out loud. And I’m staring at him. Stop staring at him.

“Cole Allemand!” Why did I shout? Oh yeah. Because I have no chill.

“You know my name?” Cole asks, seeming more surprised by the content of my outburst rather than the volume of it. A deep breath helps me regain some sense of normalcy. “It’s on your library card.” “But you know it.” “I do. And now I’ve used it. And I plan on saying hi to you in the future and using your name. And you should say hi to me. And say my name.”

“Summer.” Four. My body shivers and jerks around, a puppet to the strings of his voice. “Yes?”

“You said you were going to use it.” “Use what?” “My name.” Oh. “Cole Allemand!” I shout again, embarrassment fading, erased by my laughter and his willingness to look past my overeager introduction. “I’ll see you around, Cole Allemand.”

“You’re romance-hero tall, you know?”

And pillows. I love throw pillows.

“Yes.” No. Don’t say yes to me like that.

“Please, Summer.” The sound of my name in his smoky drawl has my eyes fluttering. “Please what?” “Say something horrible to me.” “I can’t,” I whisper. “Yes, you can. You can be bad if you want to.” Oh damn.

I want a man to love, and I know the kind of man who will make me feel safe. A nice guy. Not a bad boy. Not a Cole Allemand.

“You’re not going to check me out?” Cole’s smile disappears, a confused twist to his mouth taking its place. I’ve been checking you out all night, I’m tempted to retort. Classic library humor. Still, it’s true.