She was real, and now he was in the same room as her. The more he looked at her, the more he felt like he had met her before. After living in Landstad for over four years, he knew quite a few of its residence, but not all by any means. Something about her just seemed familiar.
The woman turned away from him and pulled off her gloves and jacket, revealing a soft cream-colored, form-fitting sweater underneath. Curves that the sweater accentuated were further highlighted by the tight jeans she wore—jeans that did great things to her back end. She pulled her hair back from her face as she turned back towards the room with a smile. Because in a town this size, she was sure to know everyone there.
As she ran her fingers through her hair, Anderson’s breath caught in his throat. Ruth Kennedy. No, he decided, it couldn’t be. Ruth Kennedy wore her white-blonde hair in a bun on the top of her head every day. Ruth Kennedy was at least ten years older than this woman, this angel. Maybe she was a sister, a gorgeous sister that he’d never met.
Ruth Kennedy was his personal assistant, and he saw her nearly every day. Not that he knew much about the woman who kept his office running smoothly, but he should have known about a sister. A sister would have stopped by the office at least once in four years.
Her ice-blue eyes caught him staring, and she stared back at him. They were the same eyes he looked into last night. Her smile remained as she walked towards them as if she hadn’t run him down the night before, but then it suddenly vanished.
How had he not realized who she was the night before? She was so much a part of his life that he had stopped noticing her long ago. She was his personal assistant, nothing more. He couldn’t be suddenly attracted to his assistant. It had to be a sister.
“Hello, Anderson. Awful weather today,” she said, just like she did the morning before at the office when the snow had started to fall. His hopes of a sexy sister were dashed. It was just her. Still sexy, but in a works-for-him way.
Anderson found himself unable to breathe. What had happened to his prickly, quiet personal assistant? On the weekends, she was a gorgeous white-haired angel, and he had never known it. Going home every weekend had made him miss a lot around town. Ruth was a changed woman when he had been gone. Everything had changed about her, from her white hair down to the white winter boots on her feet, none of which he had ever seen on her before.
“Ruth,” he managed to reply, hoping she would say she was not Ruth. Ruth couldn’t possibly look this good on the weekends; she wore a blouse and skirt every day. It was like she had a uniform she had to wear. There was no way she could be so different in and out of the office.
Then there was the run-in. Had she completely forgotten, or had he imagined the entire thing? Maybe it had been a dream, one with someone he knew in a completely new way, a sexy way. He could almost convince himself it was a dream if it wasn’t for the eyes. He hadn’t noticed those eyes before, and now he couldn’t look away.
Those gorgeous eyes turned from him to his lunch companion. Her usual pale face went paler when she saw Rafferty there. Was it because Rafferty also sold insurance? They should be enemies, but they were actually good friends. Their jobs had never been an issue for them, nor did they ever talk about work or being competitors.
Rafferty looked up at Ruth and flashed her his usual cocky smile, the one that always got the ladies to smile back at him. “Angel.”
Instantly, Anderson turned away from the woman and stared at his friend. What had he just called her? Had he actually called her Angel? Had he made the connection?
Ruth’s reaction was to huff and storm off further into the restaurant beyond him. All he wanted to do was turn and look at her again, but he didn’t want it to seem obvious that he was watching her. So, when she was out of his view, all he could see was Rafferty, who was chuckling as he took another bite of eggs.
The purple-haired waitress walked up to the table and glared down at Rafferty. When he finally looked up, she scolded him. “Leave her alone, Brooks.”
Despite her odd hair color, she was the owner of the place and had been since he had first met her. Over the years, Mia’s hair had been every color of the rainbow. Well, every color except for the actual color hair comes in. It had taken some getting used to, but now he couldn’t see her in normal hair. She was known for her hair and her knowledge of everything and everyone in this town. All of it. On top of that, she knew every inch of the town’s history, all the way back to its founding.
“Who?” Rafferty acted all innocent with his question, his eyes looking the woman up and down as she stood there, not even trying to hide his interest in her.
“Don’t be all flirty with me. It does not work. Never has.” She walked away, tired of her conversation with them. Everyone in town knew that the two did not get along and never had. On more than one occasion, Rafferty had been banned from the cafe. It seemed he was starting down that road again.
“Oh, it has worked, Mia,” he called after her, not caring that people were listening.
Anderson watched him go back to eating again, chuckling to himself. Rafferty never had a problem finding women. Most loved him, but it seems there were two here today who did not, though it didn’t seem to bother the man one bit.
“I don’t think she likes you very much,” Anderson teased his friend.
“Which one? Mia, who wants me badly, or Angel, who needs her feathers ruffled sometimes before she ends up like her mom?” Rafferty questioned, his eyes shooting back towards the kitchen where Mia had disappeared into.
“Angel. Why did you call Ruth that?”
“Ruth?” Rafferty seemed confused for a moment, but then realization dawned with a smile. “We used to call her ‘Angel’ in school. We graduated together.”
“Why?” Anderson suddenly wanted to know everything about the woman he had worked with for years.
“Because we are the same age,” Rafferty stated. She seemed older than Rafferty, but Rafferty didn’t seem exactly grown up.
Anderson shook his head at the man. “No, why the nickname?”
Rafferty rolled his eyes at his friend. “Did you not see her at all? That hair has always been that color. White like an angel’s. She didn’t act like it back then, though. Quite the troublemaker, she was.”
Anderson couldn’t imagine Ruth as a kid; she always acted more mature and professional. But it seemed Ruth was younger than he was. Since he’d met her, he had thought she was at least forty but oddly looked the exact same as she had when he first came to town, not aging at all. It must have been her clothes that had made him think she was older because today, for the first time, she looked as young as she actually was.
“I don’t see her as a troublemaker.”