Chapter 28

After the ride, I decided I wasn't going to quit. Mary Ellen was too good to walk away from. I was going to fight for her.

At a stoplight, I happened to notice an old lady on the corner selling single roses. I waved at her to get her attention. She hobbled over and I gave her a twenty and took a single rose. I figured it might be a good first step to get back into Mary Ellen's good graces.

When I pulled up to the library, I noticed the businesspeople had moved to the other side of the building. The place looked relatively empty. There was a single car in the lot, which I assumed belonged to one of the developers. It was a luxury car and didn't really fit with the neighborhood.

I cut the engine and pulled off my helmet. Before I could get off the bike, I was approached by a tall man I didn't recognize. He had a serious chip on his shoulder, and his piercing blue eyes bored into me as he spoke. The guy had an air of authority and clearly had money judging by the Rolex on his wrist. From the way he was looking at me, I could see we were going to have a problem. My tats, my bike, and my look in general landed me in this very similar situation more than once.

I quickly hopped off my bike, hanging my helmet from the handlebars and braced myself. With his type, I assumed he was just going to talk shit. He was more like the guys I grew up around. He looked like he would be someone that hung out with my parents.

"Are you Archer?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

My spine straightened as I braced myself for a confrontation. "Who's asking?" I replied cautiously.

"What are you doing around here?"

I couldn't help but smirk. "I'm pretty sure this is a public library, and unless I took a hard left into Russia, I can go anywhere I'd like."

He gave me a hard look. "Leave Mary Ellen alone. She's too good for you."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Who the hell was this guy? Did Mary Ellen have another rich asshole on speed dial? Troubled billionaires her type now?

Here I was thinking she was this sweet virginal woman that hadn't been around men much. She had acted so surprised to see my house and even more surprised to see my parents' house, like she'd never been around wealth.

I shook my head, dismissing the absurd thought.

"You know what, you're probably right," I said.

"I know I'm right."

I shoved the rose at him.

He put his hands up with a look of horror on his face. "What the hell are you doing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Calm down. You're not my type."

He shoved the rose back at me. "I don't want your rose."

"I'm not giving you a rose," I said with disgust. "It was for Mary Ellen."

"She doesn't want it either."

"Funny, I didn't hear her say that."

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"It's really none of your business," I told him, deciding I wasn't going to stick around.

It was suddenly very warm. I shrugged out of my jacket and was about to stuff it in my saddlebags when my book fell out of the jacket pocket and landed on the pavement with a thud. My eyes widened in horror as I stared down at it, realizing what had just happened. The half-naked man on the cover that was intended to entice the ladies was staring up at me, mocking me.

The man bent down to pick up the book. I debated hopping on my bike and speeding away before I had to face his judgment. I could already hear the insults coming my way. I braced myself for his inevitable mocking. I'd heard it all before. Reading romance novels in prison didn't exactly win me a lot of macho points. He was about to find out that judging a book by its cover—in this case, me—was a mistake. Just because I liked the sappy stuff didn't mean I was soft.

My chest puffed out, meeting his gaze as he held the book up. "The Casanova Club?" he muttered, his gaze flicking up to meet mine. "Did you steal this? Is this some weird fetish?"

I sputtered in disbelief. "What? No!"

Before I could protest any further, the man grabbed me by my arm. "You're going back in there and giving the book back. Who the hell steals from a library?"

"I didn't steal from the fucking library," I muttered and jerked my arm away. "Get the fuck off me."

"We're going inside to sort this out," he said and shoved me again.

"Push me one more time and I'll break your arm."

"Shut up," he growled. "Mary Ellen deserves better."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "I didn't steal a library book," I said again.

"You're a snake."

"Better a snake than a jackass," I retorted, unable to keep my anger in check any longer. Who was he to judge me like this? He knew nothing about me, just like I knew nothing about him. Who was he to say Mary Ellen deserved better?

"Maybe I am," he replied, his gaze hard and cold. "But at least I care about her. At least I want what's best for her."

I scoffed incredulously. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you're a dick for taking advantage of her and then acting like a vulture to come back around and pick at her. Stealing a book? That's weird."

"Whatever," I said. "Let's go. We'll go back in there. You're making an ass of yourself."

He threw open the door, nearly ripping it off the hinges. I would have laughed at his ridiculous overreaction if I wasn't so pissed. Mary Ellen might not like me, but she knew my reading tastes.

The guy marched toward Mary Ellen, who was sitting behind her desk. The asshole slammed the book down on her desk. She looked up and pushed away from the desk. The look of shock in her eyes was almost comical. She looked from me to the other guy.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. I really had no words. She had kicked me out an hour ago and now I was being dragged back in like I was a five-year-old that got busted stealing a candy bar.

"He stole this," the man declared, glaring at me. "I'm making him return it. This is the guy, isn't it?"

"What?" Mary Ellen gasped.

"The guy. The guy from the other night. The reason I had to come and rescue you."

"You didn't rescue me," she murmured with her cheeks turning red.

"You know what I mean," the man said. "I caught him outside."

"I was coming to the library," I muttered. "You wouldn't have caught me if I didn't want you to."

Mary Ellen blinked incredulously up at the guy that was staring at me like he just caught me with a severed head on my bike. "Jameson, what are you doing?!" she exclaimed.

"I'm making sure this guy doesn't bother you again," Jameson replied. "He stole a book. He was probably going to…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Read it?" I asked dryly. "Busted. I'm a horrible man. I dared to read a book. The horror."

"Jameson, he didn't steal anything. He scanned it before he left."

As Jameson realized his misstep, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement amidst the embarrassment.

"Uh oh, someone was wrong," I said in a sing-song voice.

Jameson looked at me, his gaze a mix of surprise and embarrassment with just a hint of irritation. He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut again when Mary Ellen rose from her desk.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if nursing a headache. "Stop it," she snapped at me. She turned her gaze to Jameson. "And you! You dragged him back here? Over a book he checked out?"

Jameson seemed sheepish now, scratching the back of his head. "I, uh, I thought he stole the book."

"Why would he steal a book?" she snapped. "Do you know who he is? Where he lives? He doesn't need to steal a book."

I gave him a smug look. "Exactly."

"Don't laugh," Mary Ellen snapped at me. "You're just as guilty for letting him drag you back here and disrupt the peace when you knew you hadn't stolen anything."

I fell silent instantly, chastised. Mary Ellen's flustered irritation only added to the hilarity of the situation. "He came at me," I said.

"So, then you walk away," she said. "Jameson, honestly. I don't need you to fight my battles."

"I didn't know," Jameson said weakly.

"Minding your own business sounds like a good idea," I told him.

"Stop it," Mary Ellen scolded. She picked up the book and gave a half-smile. "At least you have really good taste in books. This is my favorite from the Casanova Club series. Wyatt. Every girl needs a good cowboy. Where's a good cowboy when you need one? Instead, I'm stuck with you two bozos."

"What does that mean?" Jameson asked.

Mary Ellen practically threw the book at me. "Take your book and leave. Both of you. I don't feel like playing referee. I have enough to deal with. I don't want to deal with your crap, too. Go."

I felt a pang of regret. All I had wanted was to make things right with her.

Jameson put the rose on the desk. "This is for you."

Mary Ellen picked it up and offered a small smile. I was about to tell her I was the one who bought the rose when she snapped it in half and shoved it back at Jameson. "Thank you, but I don't need your pity rose. Leave, now."

"I'm sorry," Jameson said.

"Me too," I added.

She glared at both of us, making it clear she wasn't interested in our drama.

Jameson and I both made a mad dash for the door. "Sorry," Jameson muttered under his breath.

"The book. Chicks like it," I tried to explain it.

Jameson and I walked out and stood awkwardly for a moment, the tension thick in the air.

Suddenly, Jameson let out a hearty laugh. "That was a shitshow."

"Yeah." I grinned back. "Probably not our finest moment."

"It wasn't my worst moment." He shrugged.

"I'm not sure about that," I said.

I walked to my bike only to have the guy stop me again. "I was serious about what I said."

"What?"

"Mary Ellen is a good woman. She doesn't need a bunch of bullshit in her life. She doesn't deserve to be treated like crap. Whatever you've got going on in your life, she doesn't deserve to be dragged into it."

"I didn't drag her into anything," I retorted. "You don't know me, and you don't know what you're talking about."

"I know enough," he growled. "Leave her alone."

He walked back to his car. I grabbed my helmet and jerked it on. Now, I really needed some speed. As I revved my bike, I wondered who Jameson was to Mary Ellen. He seemed pretty fond of her. It made me jealous to think she had another man in her life she could count on. I felt replaceable.

Jameson's words echoed in my mind as I made my way home.

Mary Ellen deserved better than the mess I was. That much was clear. But why couldn't I prove myself? I didn't like the idea of anyone telling me what I could and couldn't do. Jameson, whoever he was, didn't know me. Yes, I wasn't honest with her, but that didn't mean I couldn't be good for her.

I had to show it. I needed to prove to her I was worthy of her time. The one way I could do that was to save her library.