Rustler's Moon

When she finally looked down to his face, his blue eyes were staring up at her, waiting to see what she’d do next.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” She leaped back. “I wasn’t sure how to wake you.”

“Saying wake up would have worked,” he said, unfolding from the chair. “But I didn’t mind you brushing my hair back. My mother used to wake me like that when I was a kid.”

“I, um, just needed to let you know that it’s long past closing time.” She picked up a few of the books, trying not to look at him, then remembered the wagon. “Oh, wait, I wanted to show you something.”

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