Chapter 7

Archer headed out of the library, and I watched his tall, lean frame disappear behind the heavy wooden doors. His words were threaded with a na?ve hope that made my heart ache. I wished I could share in his optimism. I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread at losing this place.

But there was one bright spot in my day. Archer. I knew his name now.

It sounded royal. Something English. I supposed I was expecting something like Killer or Thor, given his rugged appearance. But Archer? It suited him in a way that surprised me.

I looked down at the flyers and wondered if it was just a complete waste of time. I could save the money it cost to print the stupid things. They were just going to be ignored or used to start someone's campfire.

His words of hope were sweet and not at all what I expected from a leather-wearing biker. Although he'd left the leather at home. Instead, I got to see a little more of him. My suspicions were confirmed about the intimidating man. There were several tattoos on his left arm, and as he was walking out, I caught a glimpse of another tattoo down the back of his right arm. Of course, I also had to check him out from the new angle.

He was tall and toned. His ass had been cupped nicely in his worn jeans. The short sleeves showed off his toned arms. He had a nice tan as well, which told me he spent some time outdoors, unlike my own pale complexion. I tended to spend my time inside unless I could escape to the park with a book, and then I was hiding out under a tree so the sun didn't bounce off the pages.

I was about to return to marking the flyers when I remembered the book. I had to know if he left another note. I snatched it up and took it back to my desk.

My eyes darted around the mostly empty library, as if someone might bust me exchanging notes. No one was watching me. This was my own little private thrill.

I opened the book and found the note right away. The note was left between two pages where the two characters were falling in love. It couldn't be a coincidence. I quickly read the note and couldn't help but smile.

"History has already happened. I like surprises."

The words sent a shiver down my spine. Who was this man who left such cryptic messages for me? What secrets lay hidden beneath his scary exterior?

The man did not look the type to be leaving little notes in books like something out of a Jane Austen novel, but maybe a romantic heart beat inside his massive, chiseled chest. I wondered if he had ever read Jane Austen. She happened to be one of my favorite authors. That would be too much to ask for.

I couldn't seem to get him out of my head. He was a contradiction of qualities—tough yet tender, mysterious yet alluring. I wondered who he was. Why did he have time to hang out at the library in the middle of the day? Did he have a job? He looked young, no more than thirty, but there was a depth to him, a world-weariness beyond his years.

And those tattoos? How many more did he have that I couldn't see? Did they mean something? I couldn't help but wonder what tales his tattoos told about him. I had no doubt the man had some stories.

I reread the note again, feeling a very odd sensation wash over me. A startling realization hit me—I'm turned on. It had been a while apparently, so long I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Well, hello there, body. Look who's waking up.

I found myself furiously blushing. How did this man get me so hot and bothered when I didn't even know him?

He might be a total asshole. Sometimes a book was exactly like its cover, after all. Lord knew I had encountered my fair share of jerks on the few dates I had been on. Sometimes, they weren't even dates at all, and I ended up looking like a huge fool.

That had been the mix-up with Jameson, when I thought he was taking me out on a date but he wasn't, and I got my feelings hurt. I could still feel the sting of embarrassment from that whole episode. The silver lining to that story was that Lauren, one of my best friends in the world, had met the love of her life, so I couldn't be too bitter about it.

I was twenty-four and had yet to find my Prince Charming. Maybe my expectations were too high, given the number of books I had read. I blamed Jane Austen. If Mr. Darcy did exist, I doubted he rode a motorcycle.

It had been so long since I'd felt this way. As I watched one friend after another fall in love, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever find my own happily ever after. The men who caught my eye never seem interested in me. They wanted someone with confidence and sex appeal, someone who could be the trophy wife and perfect mother to their children all at once. Someone not like me.

And this guy? He was a whole different breed of man.

I should steer clear. My instincts on that were clear. But there was something about him, something that drew me in despite my better judgment.

Do we have more in common than I think? Or am I just setting myself up for heartbreak once again?He'd probably expect me to ride a motorcycle, something I had never done and truly had no desire to ever do. He'd probably take me out to a biker bar with women that could kick my ass with a look. I wouldn't know the first thing about the world he lived in.

But we did seem to have at least one thing in common—books. He liked to read. I loved to read. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was something to build on.

Yeah, right.

He wasn't the kind of man to fall for. Free spirits like that weren't looking to settle down. He could rock my body six ways till Sunday, but he wasn't sticking around for a lazy brunch the next day.

Sometimes I wished I was the type of girl who didn't catch feelings for a guy if things got physical. Then Archer could give me the night of my life before riding off at dawn, and I would feel sexy and empowered, instead of sad I would never see him again.

Stop dreaming.I quickly stuffed the note in my pocket and tucked the book in the desk. I wasn't sure what I would write back. I just needed to think about it. Whatever I was getting into with this guy, I wanted to be careful.

I forced myself back to work. The flyers were waiting for me, but my mind was still occupied by thoughts of him.

I piled the flyers into a neat stack. I was going to hang them everywhere I was allowed to. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope I could get someone to notice. Maybe I could get a few people to speak up and demand the city council reject the offer from Hunt Properties.

I still had a couple of hours of work but I was ready to leave. I wanted to hang up my flyers, go home, and pout.

I pushed away the thoughts of Archer and tried to distract myself by throwing myself into work. I organized books, straightened shelves, dusted, and cleaned my desk until everything was just right. Order from chaos.

But no matter how busy I tried to be, I kept pulling his note out of my pocket, smiling at it as if it were a love note. In reality, it was nothing of the sort, but it felt like an invitation to a scorching experience.

Maybe his bark is bigger than his bite. Maybe he's really a softie inside, just waiting to be discovered. He just needs someone to love him and bring out his inner gentleman. Is that so hard to imagine?

The library's closing time came around. I locked the doors and turned off the lights. As I walked home, I hung up my flyers on bulletin boards and even managed to get a couple of the shops to hang them in their windows. I didn't know if it would help, but I was desperate.

Archer's note burned a hole in my pocket. At home, I made myself a cup of hot tea and sat down at my desk, note in hand. I stared at it for several minutes and tried to think of something witty to reply back with. I wasn't even sure if he would want to keep up the note exchange now that we had actually had a conversation. I wondered if he would ever come back to the library. Did I miss the chance to explore my adventurous side?

I shook my head, chastising myself for such foolish thoughts. I was looking at a man, seeing the hotness and ignoring all the red flags waving frantically at me.

He probably had some serious flaws and I was already thinking about how I could change him. I was thinking about finding his sweet side. That was literally how every bad relationship started. Not that he would want a relationship. There was no corralling a mustang that wild.

I had to keep my head on straight. Trying to change a man to suit me was wrong. I was only going to get hurt again by trying. It would be another failed relationship.

"Mary Ellen!" Karen called out my name. "Are you home?"

I got up from my desk, already smelling something delicious. "I am if that's Chinese food," I replied.

She laughed. "I knew I could tempt you out of your reading nook with egg rolls and kung pao. I hope you're hungry."

"Always." I smiled. "Thank you for this. My day has just gotten a million times better. Is Rylee working tonight?"

She nodded. "It's just the two of us."

"How weird is that?" I asked as I grabbed plates to split the meal. "How did we go from fighting over bathroom time to just us?"

She sighed. "True love happened. Our roommates got swept off their feet by super hot guys."

"Are you jealous?" I asked her.

"Uh, duh," she said, laughing. "Obviously, I'm happy for them, but I'm starting to feel left out."

I laughed with her. "I'm sure they didn't get the last good men in this city."

"No," Karen said. "And I'm not worried. If there's a man out there for me, I'm sure I'll find him when the time is right. I'm not about to go on a manhunt."

I nodded. "I agree."

"What about your hot mystery man?" she asked.

"He's not my man."

"Have you seen him again?"

"Yes," I admitted, the image of Archer surfacing in my mind. "He came in today."

Karen's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Did you talk to him or just slip him another note?" she asked, her tone teasing.

"We actually talked," I confessed, stirring my food around on my plate. "Not for long, but it was a conversation."

Karen clapped her hands together. "I knew it! You like him!"

"I do not!" I protested, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," she said in a poor attempt at a British accent.

I rolled my eyes. "He's interesting and good-looking, sure. But that's all. He would never be interested in me. And he's trouble."

"That's not true," she said. "What did you talk about?"

"I know his name," I said with a smile.

"What is it?"

"Archer."

She scrunched up her nose. "That's not a very badass name."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I don't know. I like it. He saw the flyers I was working on. He asked about the library closing. And then he told me there's always hope."

"He sounds nice," she said.

"Nice is a very generic term," I said. "People describe me as nice. Archer is electric. Not nice. He's intense, brooding, a little intimidating. He's like a storm. I'm a gentle breeze."

"A storm? Really, Mary Ellen?" Karen laughed as she picked up her chopsticks.

"Yes, a storm," I defended. "He feels like he would be unpredictable and powerful. A force of nature that leaves me feeling off balance."

"And you like that?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," I confessed, leaning back in my seat and gazing down at my half-eaten dinner. "I don't know what to make of him. But it doesn't matter. He's not interested. He was probably just making conversation. I doubt I'll see him again. "

"You can hope," she said. "And I don't just mean about the library. It's okay to hope for an attractive man to sweep you off your feet."

"With the way I'm going in the men department, I'm going to be living in this house all alone. You guys are all going to find your dream husbands and I'll have to adopt twenty cats."

"You better hope those cats pay rent," she quipped. "This place isn't cheap."