“Look, man, I just need your help this one time.”

“No, you should have put that bitch’s shit out months ago,” I remind him. I hated his ex; she was one of those women who tried to lead you around by your dick.

“Don’t make it seem like I haven’t wanted to. She swore she was coming this weekend to get all her stuff, but until then, I don’t have room for this chick who’s coming.”

“Who is she?” I ask curiously.

“You know my friend Link who works as a bouncer in Vegas?”

“Yeah. He works at a strip club, right?”

“Yeah. Well, I guess this stripper saw some shit go down. He called and asked me to keep an eye out for her until it’s safe for her to go home.”

“Wow, your own personal stripper living with you.”

“She could live with you first.”

“I’m seeing someone, so you’re gonna have to find something else to do with this chick or toss your ex’s shit outside. Or burn it behind your house for all I care.”

“You’re seeing someone?” I can hear the disbelief in his voice. I’m not surprised—I don’t date; I hook up and go home.

“I just got home. I don’t have time for this right now. Call your ex and tell her she needs to come get her stuff tomorrow or you’re burning it. And honestly, if she doesn’t show up, I say we have a bonfire with that shit.”

“Look, you and I both know she isn’t gonna come get her crap. She thinks, if it’s here, she has a reason to come back.”

“So put it in your car, take it to her house, and put it on her lawn.”

“I would have done that, but I need a truck and haven’t had time.”

“She’s been out for almost a year. How the hell haven’t you had time?”

“Okay, I’ve had time. I just haven’t wanted to deal with all the crying that comes along with seeing her.”

“Aw, you cry when you see her?”

“Tears of joy that she’s out of my life, fucker.”

I laugh along with him as I set Daisy on the ground and grab a beer out of the fridge, popping the top and taking a swig. “If she doesn’t come by this weekend to get her stuff, let me know and I’ll go with you to take it to her. I’m sure we can borrow Cash’s truck.”

“Sounds good. So who’s this chick you’re seeing? Is it the redhead you were talking to at the bar the other night?”

“No, and you don’t know her.” Shit, I don’t even know her.

All I know about her is that she smells like apples and cinnamon and she has the softest brown hair I’ve ever seen or felt, brown eyes that darken to almost black when she’s kissed, and skin the color of milk that turns pink when she’s nervous or embarrassed.

“Did you hear me?”

“What?” I growl, annoyed that he interrupted my daydream of beautiful Sophie.

“I asked if you were up for another job this week?”

“I’m not sure right now.”

“All right. Just let me know.”

“Yeah, sure. Later, cous’.”

“Later.”

I clicked off the phone before tossing it onto the counter. I glance down at Daisy, who is sitting at my feet looking up at me. I open up her treat jar, and her eyes follow my every move. I hold the treat a few inches above her head as she stands up on her hind legs to dance around before I drop it to her. I wander from the kitchen into my room, pull off my shirt, and toss it onto the floor, followed by my jeans and boxers.

After going into the bathroom, I start up the shower and let the glass stall steam up before stepping inside. I let the hot water run over me. My head tilts back as I think about Sophie and her big brown eyes looking up at me with nervousness and hunger but without even a hint of real fear—something I have never seen on a woman’s face before but will forever be etched into my brain. I knew the minute I saw her that she was it. How I knew? I don’t know, but it was like my soul lit up—cheesy as fuck, but also true. I don’t really have time for her right now, and she is not a woman who looks like she would ever be interested in someone like me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.

She has a look of innocence about her; I guess it could be a front, but something tells me it’s not. I feel myself getting hard thinking about those f**king heels she had on; they should be illegal. She looked like every man’s naughty secretary fantasy, or maybe a dirty librarian. I palm myself, moving in long, steady strokes. I wouldn’t mind seeing her on her knees in front of me, her skirt up around her waist, her legs spread out to show off her pussy, her top open with her br**sts hanging over the top of her bra, and her ni**les hard and dark pink from being sucked, licked, and bitten. I would stand in front of her, feeding her my cock. My hands would fist her hair, dictating her pace. I feel my balls draw up, my strokes moving faster. One of her hands would cup them gently while her other hand would grip the base of my c**k as I f**ked into her mouth.

“Shit,” I groan, echoing into the empty shower as long jets of cum hit the wall in front of me. I haven’t jacked off to the thought of a woman I know since I was thirteen, when Margret Jenkins showed me her tits in the boys’ bathroom on a dare. I catch my breath before I wash up and head to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.

When I walk into the middle school, I’m not surprised when the security guard asks who I am and what I’m doing here. I explain to him that I’m looking for a librarian by the name of Sophie. He doesn’t know who she is, so he sends me to the principal’s office so someone there can help me out. I’m used to being judged by my appearance. I’m covered in tattoos, and I have a fauxhawk and gauges in my ears. Basically, I look like a person you should run from.

“Can I help you?”

I look down at an older woman with light-purple hair and a large smile. “I’m looking for Sophie.”

“The Sophie who works in the library?” she questions, her smile becoming wider.

“Yes. Can you point me in her direction?”

“Oh! She’s not here today.”

“Why are you looking for Sophie?” a male voice asks, and I turn my head to look over my shoulder.

“She’s a friend,” I tell him, turning back around.

“Sophie doesn’t have friends,” he says in a way that makes it sound like he has tried to be her frien, but she wasn’t interested.

I turn to face him, looking him over. He’s dressed like he works here—most likely a teacher—his khaki pants and button-down shirt giving him away.

“She has me,” I tell him.

His eyes look me over before he speaks again. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Is that so?” I raise a brow.

“Honey, she will be here tomorrow,” the lady says. I look at her and smile, and she beams back at me.

“Thanks,” I reply, tapping on the top of her desk before walking past the guy, out the door, down the hall, and out to my car. I have to wait another day, but I know it’ll be worth it when I see her again.

When I get to the school the next day, I go directly to the office.

“You came back,” the same lady as before greets me. “I’m Sue, by the way.” She leans forward then, like she is going to tell me a secret. “Mr. Rasmussen was not happy yesterday.” She wags her finger at me then smiles like the cat that got the canary before sitting back in her chair and clapping her hands together once. “So I guess you need directions to the library.”

“That would be helpful.” I smile.

“You sure are pretty.” She laughs. “If I was a few years younger, I’d be a jaguar for you.”

“A jaguar?” I ask on a chuckle.

“You know, an older lady with a younger man.”

“A cougar, you mean,” I correct her with a grin.

“Sure. Whatever you say, honey. All I know is I would have given Ms. Grates a run for her money.”

“Sue, if you want me, you’ve got me,” I tell her, leaning in the way she did before.

“Oh no, honey. I wouldn’t even know what to do with you.” She smiles, her eyes sparkling. I shrug and she laughs. “All right, mister. I gotta hang on to your ID while you’re on school property, but just sign in here and you can go to the library. Take a right out the door, walk until you get to the end of the hall, and take a left. It’s the last door on the left.”

“Thanks, doll,” I reply, smiling as I hand her my driver’s license, sign the visitor’s sheet, and walk out of the office. I have to say, that’s the first time I’ve ever been hit on by a woman my grandmother’s age.

When I get to the library’s doors, I look through the small window and spot Sophie right away as she stands on her tiptoes to put away books. Today, she is wearing navy-blue slacks with wide legs and a high waist that ends just under her breasts, which are covered in a bright red, short-sleeved, button-down top that matches her heels.

Jesus. Sophie is in heels and looking like she does is going to be the death of me. I push open the door and am bombarded by the smell of books. Sophie turns her head to look at who has come in, and when she sees that it’s me, her eyes go wide and her mouth opens and closes a couple of times.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asks before looking around like she is waiting for someone to jump out at her.

“I told you I would see you when I got back to town. I’m back in town,” I state the obvious.

“Um…okay, but what are you doing here?” she repeats, pointing to the floor.

“I don’t have your number, and I want to take you out to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, a meal you eat at the end of the day.”

“I know what dinner is. I just don’t do that,” she mumbles, looking adorable.

“You don’t eat dinner?” I ask, confused.

“No, I don’t do dinner with other people,” she replies.

“You don’t do dinner with other people?” I tilt my head to the side, watching her.

“Like…date—I don’t date,” she huffs out, crossing her arms over her chest, which only accentuates it. My eyes are drawn there, and she immediately lowers her arms to her sides.

“It’s not a date. It’s dinner.”

“I know…you said that.”

“So what would you like to eat on our non-date dinner?” I ask, taking a step towards her, the smell of apples and cinnamon growing stronger the closer I get.

“Nothing. We’re not having dinner together.”

“What time do you get off work?”

“Six—I mean, I don’t know.” She chews her lower lip, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

“All right, so no dinner then.” I shrug. “Can I get your number?”

She shakes her head no, her cheeks growing even darker. Fuck me, she’s cute. “Sorry,” she whispers, looking away.

For some reason, alarm bells start going off in my head. “It’s all good.” I beat back the urge to touch her, my mind warring with my body. I watch her for a second and then start to come up with a plan.

“I have to get back to work,” she says, looking at the floor.

“All right, sweet Sophie. I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Nico,” she says softly.

I turn after giving her a chin lift, my chest feeling tight at the sound of my name leaving her mouth. After getting my ID back from Sue and signing out, I leave the school knowing that this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Chapter 2

For the second day in a row, I’m waiting outside the school. It’s 6:02 when the door opens and Sophie comes walking out. Each time I see her, she looks even more beautiful than before. I watch her expression go from surprise to shy happiness as she spots me standing next to my car…just like yesterday.

Yesterday when I left her in the library, I went to the grocery store, bought a pint of Phish Food ice cream and a set of plastic spoons, and took it back to the school, where I waited for her to get off work. She said she didn’t do dinner; she never said anything about dessert. When she saw me standing there with the frozen treat, she said that she really shouldn’t, but I told her that it wasn’t a date and I was just meeting her after school for ice cream. Then I explained how my fragile ego couldn’t bear her denying me her company, making her laugh lightly and give in. We stood outside her car for an hour with a pint of ice cream between us. She was shy but also cute and funny.

Now, I watch as she gets closer and closer, her eyes looking me over then landing on my hand. Today, I stopped at the gas station and got two ice cream cookies. She told me yesterday these are her favorite. I hold one out to her, and she smiles as she shakes her head, making my heart beat a little faster. Yes, I know I’m a f**king pussy, but I couldn’t give a fuck.

“What are you doing here”—she pauses—“again?” she asks, taking the ice cream from my hand and unwrapping it.

“Someone told me you like these.”

“Someone has a big mouth,” she says, taking a bite out of the giant frozen cookie.

“She does,” I agree, looking at her mouth.

She laughs and smacks me on the chest. She covers her mouth with her hand, chewing while holding up one finger. “What are you really doing here?” she asks after she swallows.

“Just in the neighborhood.” I shrug and take a bite of my cookie before immediately spitting it on the ground.