The Irresistible Protector: A Billionaire Bad Boy Best Friends to Lovers Mystery Romance

by Alexa McLean

  By the time I looked up, Rebecca was gone. Well, there goes my chance to probe her for additional clues. Sometimes I felt like I was so close to discovering my mysterious poet but then he always managed to slip away from me.

  I glanced around, half expecting someone to jump out of the shadows but to my pleasure, I was all alone. Slowly, I opened the first book. Nothing. Second book. Still nothing. I continued through the books to find they were all empty.

  “Hmm...” I frowned. This was the first time he hadn’t sent over a poem. Maybe he was having a stressful week at work. Or maybe there was something more serious going on. My mind swirled with possibilities. I thumbed through the last book one more time and accidentally took off the dust sleeve.

  A small piece of paper fluttered to the ground along with it. I picked it up and saw the familiar handwriting. A smile swept across my lips as I read the words.

  You have found me.

  As I hope you will one day find my heart.

  Covered by a mask made of darkness that only you can turn to light.

  I’ll wait for you. As I hope you waited for me.

  Because I cannot forget that spark in our past.

  That I pray still ignites for me.

  Tori.

  I ran my fingertips along the poem as a surge of energy traveled underneath my skin. It was starting to become obvious that these poems were meant for me but that didn’t make any sense. Who would spend their time writing me a love poem? I wasn’t seeing anyone and I hardly had any admirers. Matt didn’t count. He was a pretty smart kid but I didn’t think he was capable of writing something so beautiful. He just didn’t strike me as the poetic type.

  “Who is it...?” I asked aloud as if I expected the silence to answer me.

  Swoosh!

  One of the regulars waved from the door. I waved back before placing the slip of paper inside my journal. It was starting to bulge with the collection of anonymous poems. There was no doubt in my mind that they were all written by the same person. The handwriting was consistent and the tone unfaltering.

  Had I met this person before? Why did they insist on communicating this way? Why couldn’t they just come into the library and say hello?

  These questions haunted me for the rest of my shift. By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was no closer to finding the answer. I packed up my bags and nodded at the security guard tasked with manning the library throughout the night.

  Outside, the sun was already starting to set. The city was painted in the darkening hues of dusk. I tightened my grip on my bag as I headed home. Ominous clouds positioned themselves overhead and I prayed the weather would hold out – at least until I got home. I had forgotten my umbrella and I had no desire to look like a drowned cat.

  A few raindrops landed on my cheek as I passed a local tattoo parlor. I was only a few blocks from my house. If need be, I could make a run for it.

  The open sign flickered. I shook my head. Was Conrad never going to replace that old thing? Conrad and I had gone to the same high school together. He had been in the year below mine and for a while, I acted as his tutor, helping him pass both math and English with a solid B. But his real talent was with art. He knew how to draw better than anyone else I knew. I was glad he followed his passions and became a tattoo artist. It suited him.

  Suddenly, a red sign posted in the corner of the display window caught my eye. Under new management! I furrowed my brows together wondering what had happened to Mr. Fred, the owner. Curious, I stepped inside to find Conrad bent over a piece of paper, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth as he concentrated.

  The bell above the door chimed at my arrival. Conrad looked up and smiled. “Tori! What a pleasure.” He ran his fingers through his boy-band hair, smile deepening. “As beautiful as always.”

  I ignored his compliment and pointed toward the sign. “What happened to Mr. Fred?”

  “Retired. Moved down to Florida. Thought I was out of a job but then someone bought the place.” He explained. “Haven’t even met him yet. But, I’m getting paid so I don’t really care. As long as he keeps signing my checks, he can stay as invisible as he’d like.”

  “Well, what’s his name?” I asked.

  Conrad shrugged. “I don’t know. He has one of those messy signatures. Just a bunch of scribbles.”

  “I see,” I said.

  “So, what’s new with you? It’s been a while since we’ve sat down together. Do you want a coffee or something? The coffee machine is usually on the fritz but tonight could be your lucky night.” He chuckled, attempting to turn on the machine but it didn’t respond. “Oh, come on you stupid thing. Work. Just this once.” He banged the side but still, it refused to cooperate.

  “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have coffee this late anyway.” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Still Miss Goody Two-Shoes, huh?” He teased. “When are you going to loosen up a little and let me give you some ink?”

  “Not going to happen.” I shook my head while covering my arms. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Oh, come on. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as everyone says.” He picked up his ink gun and waved it invitingly. “A literary quote, maybe? A lot of people get those. Shakespeare is a popular one.”

  “Don’t think about it,” I warned.

  “Alright, alright. Don’t bite my head off.” He raised his hands in innocence. “I won’t push it – for now.” He grinned. “But one day...”

  I rolled my eyes. “I should probably head home.”

  “Don’t be a stranger.” He called out as I left. “The door is always open.” I sensed he was implying something more with that comment but I didn’t dwell on the thought for very long because just then, the rain picked up.

  I made a run for it, holding my bag over my head for protection. Somehow, I managed to make it to the front door without getting soaked. Sure, I was wet, but there were still a few dry spots left on my clothes.

  Ready for a hot bath, I was just about to turn the key and step inside when I heard the rumbling of a motorcycle. I turned around and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

  It was him.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Alexa McLean is romance author who enjoys reading, spending time with family and friends, eating pasta and writing romance stories that makes her readers beg for more and keep them well entertained.

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