a few dry leaves from the fern on the coffee table. “I guess I’ll finally get to meet Sam.” Or was it Stan? Returning to the kitchen, she dumped the leaves into a trashcan.
“It’s Seth. Seth Reilly. I told you about him before.”
“That’s right–Seth. You keep raving about him.”
“He’s incredible, Ari.” Daphne sighed wistfully into the phone. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. I’ll bring him to Lauren’s party.”
“That’s great.”
At thirty-four, Daphne was six years older, but Arianna often felt like the more responsible sibling. Her sister loved instant gratification and tended to get bored unless she was talking about herself or her latest passion. The fad of the moment was Seth.
“I don’t mean to cut you off, Daph, but I have to go.”
“I know, I know.” She was probably rolling her eyes. “The library. You’ve always got your nose buried in some boring history book. We need to get together so I can tell you all about Seth. How about lunch?”
“Sounds good. I’ll call.”
Arianna breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone, thankful to have delayed Daphne’s frivolous gushing. She grabbed the stack of library books from the table and headed out the door. If nothing else, her sister’s phone call had taken her mind off Caleb.
* * * *
There was little activity at the Sagehill library when Arianna arrived. Saturday mornings were never busy, even slower during the summer. She parked in front, gathered her books, and walked up a short sidewalk flanked by shrubs. It was quiet inside, the silence making her feel at home. She’d always enjoyed excursions to the library, a habit she retained despite the availability of online resources.
As a teacher, she was well versed in several periods of history, but had a special fondness for the Civil War. Perhaps it was an attempt to make sense of a senseless event. For nearly four years the nation had plummeted into a period of madness and desperation, brothers, friends and neighbors fighting each other in a time of chaos. Regiment and brigade commanders were often appallingly young–colonels and generals who were forced to make life and death decisions on a daily basis. It was hard to imagine the kind of man who could fight such a catastrophic war and emerge emotionally, if not physically, unscathed.
Arianna paused to chat with the librarian when she returned her books, then wandered off to look for something new. As she headed for the history section, she passed a handful of stations with computers, a teenaged girl typing away at one, a balding senior at another. She was almost to the back when she spied a blond-haired man alone at a table. He sat hunched over several open books, his head bent, forehead supported by his palm. She didn’t need to see his face, the white-gold gleam of his longish hair more than enough to identify him as Caleb.
Arianna came to an abrupt halt, surprised to encounter him so soon after their snappish parting. During the second it took to register his presence, he lifted his head and stared directly at her. The potent mixture of uncertainty and attraction she’d felt before crashed over her in a wave.
“Arianna.” He spoke in a hush befitting the library.
She pretended not to hear, moving into one of the aisles and pulling down a book at random.
“Annie.” He trailed her into the aisle. “Did you get your vehicle fixed?”
She spared an icy glance.
“Car. It’s a Chrysler. Why can’t you just say car?” Still angry about the tire, she made no effort to conceal her hostility. Venom was all she had to counter her impulsive, over-the-top attraction. As close as he stood, she could feel a high voltage crackle of electricity thrum between them, warning of consensual heat and desire.
She tightened her hands on the book. Hell, yes, he was good-looking, but it wasn’t as if she’d never been around a handsome man before. So why did her knees feel like putty, her heart perched to somersault through her chest?
She flipped a page, vaguely aware she’d selected a book about South Carolina’s secession and Beauregard’s siege on Fort Sumter. Ironic, given she felt under siege herself.
“I had my tire replaced, if that’s what you mean,” she said with a distinctive edge of frost.
Caleb leaned close, bracing one arm against the shelf. In the small confines of the aisle, she felt dwarfed by his height. Her natural instinct was to withdraw, but she held her ground, determined he wouldn’t intimidate her.
“Let me make it up to you,” he suggested.
She raised her chin. “How would you do that?”
“I’d like to invite you to dinner. At Weathering Rock.”
“You and Wyn?”
“Just me.”
That was worse. “Sorry, I’m busy.” Snapping the book shut, she returned it to the shelf. Before she could retreat, he caught her arm.
“I haven’t told you what night.”
“It wouldn’t matter.” His touch left her unbalanced, the familiarity too free for her liking. “I’m busy tonight and tomorrow.”
“Then you pick the night.”
“Excuse me?”
“What night are you free?”
“Caleb.” Annoyed by his persistence, she pulled away and glared up at him. “What makes you think I’d want to have dinner with you? I barely know you.”
“All the more reason to accept. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to correct that. Are you afraid to spend time with me?”
She knew he was manipulating her, but couldn’t resist rising to the challenge. “Thursday. I’m free Thursday.”
“I–” He faltered, caught off guard by her quick turnaround. Apparently she’d picked a night that didn’t suit. Too bad.
“If that doesn’t work, we can skip it altogether.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “Thursday is fine. Seven o’clock?”
“Seven.” She’d have dinner, let him try to repair the damage he’d done, and then put their association behind her. It might be enjoyable watching him squirm. “Hopefully this time I won’t need a spare tire.”
Before he could say anything further, she shoved past. As she walked by the table where he’d been sitting, curiosity made her glance at the title of the nearest book: Beyond Blue and Gray: Strange Phenomenon of the American Civil War.
It seemed she wasn’t the only one interested in history.
Chapter 6
“So you’re actually going to have dinner with this guy?”
Arianna could tell by Lauren Talbot’s voice that she wasn’t sold on the idea.
“It’s just dinner,” she said with a glance across their small cafe table. She used her fork to weed through a salad of mixed greens topped by plump grilled shrimp. The cafe had long been a favorite hangout for her and Lauren, especially now that the mild June weather invited al fresco dining on a broad outdoor deck. After 1:30 on a Saturday afternoon, the surrounding area hummed with traffic and pedestrians, the deck pleasantly noisy with the din of conversation.
“Ari, this jerk slashed your tire,” Lauren reminded her.
“Not really.” She sipped her lemonade, listening to the faint clink of ice cubes against the glass. She’d spent the last twenty minutes talking about Caleb and Weathering Rock, telling her friend everything that happened since she’d left Lauren’s home the previous night. “I think Wyn slashed my tire.”
“Because