Page 25 of The Moment He Saw Her

Her voice had him turning his head to the doorway. She stood behind the sofa dressed in leggings and a thick black sweater. Her hair was wet, and her face scrubbed clean. Libby looked about fifteen, except for those eyelashes.

“You hungry?”

She started to shake her head and then changed it to a nod.

Pride, he thought, she had bucketloads of it like he did.

“In the kitchen,” he said, waving his fork that way. “Have at it.”

“Thank you.” Her tone was polite and distant. Then she walked away.

Had she run from her wedding, or was that someone else’s wedding dress that Bob found in her trunk?

Five minutes later, she was back with one of his plates full of meat loaf.

Ryder was on to the apple pie.

She took the armchair next to the sofa he sat on. Even from that distance, he could smell the hint of something sweet coming off her body or hair.

“I will repay you for a night’s board and the food. I also understand if you don’t want me to work for you now.”

“Because?” Ryder shot her a look; her eyes were on the game.

“Because you’re annoyed,” she mumbled. “Because I slept in my car, and you got in a fight with those two biker men.”

“Biker men?”

“Bikers?”

“Way better, and they’re Bandits. That’s the name of their club. Don’t worry about them. They’re assholes, and my family is always getting into it with them.”

“Why?” She tilted her head slightly to the right like Ally’s dog did.

“It’s a long story, but we have history.”

“I heard a bit about you Dukes today,” she said.

“All good I hope?”

“Don’t mess with a Duke, Linda told me, because they fight as a pack, and there’s just no winning against them.”

“She’s not wrong,” he said, shooting the TV another look before returning to Libby. “I said I’d give you a job, so I will.”

“And I will find other lodgings in the morning.”

“Nice new coat, by the way,” he said because she was tense and that wasn’t helping his digestion.

“I went to the thrift store.”

“June’s a good salesperson. What else did she sell you?”

“This sweater.”

“Nice. Well, at least you’ll be warm now.”

Neat, Ryder thought. She sat with her legs pressed together, dinner on her lap, and now she was calmer, speaking in a cool, precise way. He wondered again what her story was, because he just bet his new stand mixer that this wasn’t the life she’d been born and raised in. Again, just a hunch, but he was sure it was an accurate one.

She forked in a small mouthful of food and chewed but never moved her eyes from the screen. His family was used to fighting over every piece of food on a table, so no one ate small mouthfuls or took too long doing it. He turned back to watch the game.

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