Obsessed (Whiskey Run Book 3) Hope Ford (find a book to read .TXT) 📖

behind me, his front to my back, and reaches around to punch in the code.

I mumble “thanks,” slide under his arm, and go to my desk. My resolve to stay away from Evan McCarthy is weakening, and I know I need to put some space between us. I gather some books to start putting them away, ignoring him. Eventually, he goes to the back without another word. He works in the back, and I get lost in straightening the library. I love the mornings at the library. It’s the least busy time, and usually when I get everything set up for the day, I’m able to peruse the aisles to find the next books I want to read.

Evan comes from the back, and I do my best to look busy, but that doesn’t stop him. “Hey, Sierra. I’m done with the back door.”

I paste a smile to my face. “Great. Thanks for doing it.”

He nods and walks toward me. “I just need you to sign here that the work is complete.”

I take the pen from him, making sure I don’t touch his fingers, and then sign my name.

I can feel his gaze boring into me, but I don’t look up, I can’t.

“Do you want me to show you how it works?”

Instantly, I shake my head side to side. “No, that’s okay. It’s the same as the front, right?”

“Yes, the very same, it just required a bigger panel and more wires.”

I walk away while telling him, “All right, well you take care. It’s good to see you home again.”

I don’t expect him to follow me, but he does. “Go out with me,” he tells me. And then, as if realizing how bossy and demanding he sounds, his voice softens. “I mean, will you go out with me?”

I shake my head, eyes clenched before I finally peel them open and stare at him with sadness. “Please quit asking me. It’s not a good idea, you and me.”

He takes a step toward me. “Yes, it is.”

I take a step back, holding a hand up to stop him from advancing. “No, it’s not. Please quit asking me.”

Evan

I wait for a hint that she’s weakening, but her face is guarded, telling me nothing. Could I have had it wrong? Maybe she sent the care packages for the reason she said. Maybe she would do it for just anyone. Maybe I’m not special to her at all.

I clasp my mouth shut and with one last glance, I walk away. I don’t plan to give up, but obviously what I have going on is not working. I get almost to the door when she calls out my name, and I spin on foot so fast I almost lose my balance. The vertigo strikes, but luckily there’s a tall sturdy bookshelf next to me, and I reach out to grab on to it. My eyes close, and the room starts to spin. I don’t open my eyes, but I can hear her feet pounding on the hardwood floor as she runs to me. Her hands go to my waist. “Evan. Evan. Are you all right?”

I leave one hand on the shelf, but the other goes to her shoulder. I want to look at her, but I’m afraid to open my eyes. Sometimes it makes it worse, and sometimes it helps. All I know is when it’s worse, nausea rolls in my stomach, and I definitely don’t want to throw up here in her library.

She holds me tighter. “Evan, talk to me. What do I need to do? Do you have your pills?”

I nod and reach for the front of my jean pockets, but my hand is shaking so bad finally she moves my hand and digs into my pocket, pulling the small bottle out. “How many?”

“One,” I moan.

“Let me get you some water.” She’s about to let go, but my other hand goes to her shoulder to hold her still. I chance a peek at her and open my eyes into small little slits. “I can take it without.”

She puts the tiny pill into my hand, and I take it quickly.

We stand there just like that, and I’m kicking myself for letting her see me like this. “I gotta go.”

She grabs on to my shirt and pulls me over to a table, pulls the chair out by hooking her foot around the leg and then helps me sit down. “You aren’t going anywhere. Not until I know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, tension thick in my voice. And then it hits me. She knew. She knew I was on a pill. She knew what was wrong with me.

“How did you know I have vertigo?”

Her face is stricken, as if she just got caught telling something she wasn’t supposed to. But instead of apologizing, she tells me plainly, “Your brother told Violet, and I promise you that I’m the only person Violet has told.”

“Fuck.” I grunt, rubbing my hands across my face. I can’t look at her. “So that’s it, huh?”

Her hand goes to my knee, and I stare at her fingers with the pink on her tips. “What is it?”

I shrug. “That’s why you didn’t want to go out with me. You know I’m having issues and you know what, I don’t blame you. It’s fucked up.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and finally I raise my eyes to hers. What I see is a surprise, though. I never dreamed she’d be mad. “Really, Evan McCarthy? Do I seem like a shallow, arrogant woman that wouldn’t go out with a man because he has vertigo?” She shakes her head, and she doesn’t even try to hide her disgust. “You don’t know me at all.”

“Sierra, I’m—”

But she don’t even let me finish. “No, come on, I’m going to help you across the street and then I have to get to work.”

I bristle