walk out again. I don’t want to loiter and make anyone pay too much attention to me. I take note of the time they close and then leave, heading toward a library across the street. I’m counting on the Rockhead idiots not to come in here. Those two don’t seem like they do a whole lot of reading, so the library seems like a safe bet.
The inside of the library is quiet, and there are only a few people inside, so I prepare to wait here until they close and then sneak back over to the hardware shop. Boots stomping over worn carpet, I snag a few books from shelves as I pass by, and then sit at an empty table near the far corner where I’m obscured by bookshelves.
I spread the pile of books around me, opening a few of them to make it look like I’m busy. In truth, the moment my ass hits the chair, I’m beat. I haven’t been sleeping well outside, and this constant looking over my shoulder is taking a toll. Not to mention that I haven’t had a decent meal in three weeks. It’s starting to wear on me.
I’m just going to close my eyes for a second. Just a small rest, and then I’ll pass the time until the hardware store closes. It can’t be that difficult to break into a small place like that, and with any luck, I can find something to snap this fucking collar off. Then I’m out of here. I don’t care if I have to hitchhike with another trucker, I have to get out of Rockhead’s territory.
Settling in, I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in the chair, my eyes closing heavily.
Just for a bit. Just for a few minutes.
Just a small rest.
“Exciting reading?”
I jolt awake, my eyes snapping open and my body surging forward.
I realize two things in very rapid succession: The sun is setting, which means I didn’t have a small rest. I fell the fuck asleep like the sandman himself came over and socked me right in the face. Second, I realize that the person standing over me is a male, who’s currently grinning down at the books on my table, which I now see are not light reading.
He picks them all up, shuffling through the pages one by one before tossing them back down. “Very eclectic taste you have,” he says. My eyes flick down to the covers so that I can see what I have for the first time. “How to Scrape the Sky: An Architectural Summary of the Modern High Rises.”
I shrug. “I’m into buildings.”
“Right. And…” he glances down. “Knitting Made Easy.”
My eyes follow his, and I see the cover where a woman who’s at least eighty-years-old is sitting in a rocking chair with a huge ball of yarn in her lap.
I stare up at him boldly, noting that he’s...well, he’s fucking hot to be honest. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the kind of jawline that makes females go stupid in the head. “You can never have enough scarves.”
His eyes flick down to the ugly purple one still tied around my neck. “Of course,” he says. “And what about that third one?” he flicks his eyes down again. “The Art of Nudes: How Best to Capture the Act of Intercourse.”
My eyes fly down to the book, and I wish I could kick myself right in the ass. How did I not notice this one?
I’m embarrassed as hell, but it’s my cover story and I’m sticking to it. “You got a problem with nudity?” I ask defiantly.
“Not at all. I’m a big fan, actually. Seems you are too,” he says, lips twitching.
I bristle. Is this fool laughing at me? Fuck him. I don’t care how hot he is, I will kick his ass. “Is there a reason you’re over here?”
The amusement leaves his face, and he crosses his arms—very muscled arms, I notice. Not that I want to notice. So I file that tidbit of info away into my IDGAF folder instead.
“Yeah,” he says. “The girl who works here called me. Said there was a scary female here who wouldn’t wake up.”
Motherfuck. Did someone try to wake me up? I must be more exhausted than I realized.
I unfold myself from the chair and stand up, my cramped leg muscles stretching out. “Tell your girlfriend she doesn’t have to worry. I’m leaving.”
Snagging my plastic bag, I stalk away toward the doors, stopping before I open them so that I