Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas #2) - Alison Bliss Page 0,4
Austin on his back, but froze mid-pat. “Seriously, Cowboy?” She gave him a stern, motherly glare. “You don’t even know if Anna’s someone you’ve had sex with?”
I cringed. Obviously, he thought sex with someone like me would be unmemorable. But did Bobbie Jo have to actually verbalize it?
When he just shrugged, Bobbie Jo shook her head in disgust, then placed the yawning turtle back into his green stroller shell. “After dealing with Jeremy earlier today, I don’t even have the energy to smack you in the back of the head.”
“You’re still dealing with that shit stain?” Cowboy snarled. “Guess I’m gonna have to kick his ass.”
She peered up at him in confusion. “For what?”
“For being a dick.”
“Yes, he is. But he’s also Austin’s father…even if only in the biological sense.” Bobbie Jo finished buckling her son into the stroller and straightened. “Look, I know he’s your long-time rival, but is there ever going to be a time I mention Jeremy’s name that one of Austin’s four godfathers don’t threaten to beat him up?”
Cowboy grinned. “Nope.”
“Fine. But I don’t want you or the other guys to do anything to him. I can handle Jeremy myself.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realized it was almost closing time and noted that the people milling about had greatly dwindled in numbers. I still hadn’t even taken out the sack of garbage I’d left by the back door.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said quietly. “I need to take the trash out back before I close up.” That would allow me time to settle my nerves.
After vacating the room I grabbed the bag of garbage, stepped out the back door, and tossed it into the big blue dumpster on the side of the library. I took a few deep breaths while fanning my hot face, then returned inside and rejoined Bobbie Jo and Cowboy just as she was about to leave.
“You know, darlin’, you really do look familiar,” Cowboy said to me as Bobbie Jo stored the baby’s teething ring. “I just can’t place how we met.”
Of course, he couldn’t. I sighed. “I could just tell you.”
“Aw, now where’s the fun in that?” Cowboy gave me a quick wink.
“Oh, Lord,” Bobbie Jo said, rolling her eyes. She looked up at me. “Sorry I can’t visit with you longer, but I need to get Austin home and ready for his bath. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can go to dinner or something this week.”
“Sure,” I replied.
Bobbie Jo pushed the stroller toward the door.
“Let me know if you want me to stomp Jeremy’s ass into the ground,” Cowboy called out after her.
She turned back long enough to give us a half-hearted wave, so I planted a smile firmly on my lips. But it was a ruse. The last few patrons had used the self-checkout scanner and had already vacated the library right before Bobbie Jo. That knowledge combined with the nervous energy zinging under my skin left me flustered. Deep inside, I was angst-ridden by the thought of being left alone in the same room as Cowboy.
To busy my trembling hands, I stood at the desk with my back to him, fiddling with a stack of flyers for a chili cook-off to be held over the weekend. I straightened the lime green papers until they were all neatly aligned with the edge of the counter.
Cowboy reached past me, brushing my body lightly with his, as he placed the book he held on the counter. “Mind holding onto this for me until tomorrow?”
The scent of his cologne lingered in the air. I turned toward him, carefully measuring him with my eyes. “You can check the book out.”
“No library card.”
“Oh. Okay, I can issue you one. I’ll just need your driver’s license and—”
“Won’t work.”
I paused, not entirely sure what he meant by his rude interruption. “All right. If you don’t have identification, then a utility bill with your name and address will suffice.”
“Sorry. No can do.” He smiled at the puzzled look I gave him. “I have identification, but very few people in this town know my real name, and I’d like to keep it that way. If I told you what it was, then I’m afraid it might be all over town by morning.”
“Excuse me?” When he grinned at my surprised tone, I lifted my chin to portray my exasperation. “If you’re suggesting I’d speak to anyone about the library’s confidential records,” I said, my tone bordering on contempt, “then you’re—”