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got your coffee so writing will commence?”
    “Yep.” He looked straight ahead.
    “What chapter are you on?” Libby tapped the steering wheel with her thumb while she drove.
    “Twenty.”
    “How many chapters do your books normally have?”
    “Thirty or so.” His answers were stiff and unfriendly.
    From his peripheral he watched Libby gnaw her bottom lip. “What’s the book about?”
    Max was in no mood to discuss the book or make small talk, and he was mentally thrashing himself for being a jerk. But it was necessary. Yeah right, August . Keep telling yourself that. The truth was that he shouldn’t have gotten friendly with her in the first place. Now that he had, he could tell Libby was interested. He noticed how her eyes sparkled when she looked at him and the soft quiver in her voice when she spoke. As much as it pained him to cut things off, he had to. He didn’t want to lead her on that something real could develop between them.
    Instead of answering her question, he clammed up.
    Silence took over.
    Heavy, awkward silence.
    Ten full minutes of mind-numbing silence.
    The cabin came into view.
    As soon as Libby put the vehicle in Park, Max was out of the Jeep. “Thanks for the ride.”

Chapter Five
    Libby hadn’t been out of the cabin much in the past week and a half because Mother Nature decided to be a beast and pounded Celina with rain. It had been a test to see if she would go nuts being cooped up. She almost did. When the sun finally peeked out she couldn’t grab her coat fast enough. Halfway through the campground the temperamental weather-minx returned, covering the sun with dark clouds, plummeting the temperature at least ten degrees and kicking up the wind. Libby pulled up the collar of her coat and shoved her hands in her pockets.
    It didn’t take long for the cold to chill her to the bone. Libby sighed with disappointment. She purposely stayed outside longer than she should have, hoping to bump into Max and Rory. She hadn’t seen Max since the day she hauled his butt home from town. She’d hoped he would ask her for a ride to pick up his car when it was finished, but it didn’t happen. The car was back in the driveway so the body shop must have dropped it off.
    Libby tried to rationalize Max’s elusiveness to working on his novel, but she couldn’t muffle the insecurity that she’d done something to turn him off. Maybe she sucked at kissing and he didn’t want to risk having to do it again.
    She touched her lips remembering his kiss. Unequivocally, it had been the best kiss ever, and she so wanted Max to make it happen a second time…or a hundred.
    Argh! It was maddening being strung out over someone who didn’t give a rat’s ass that she was around.
    Libby returned to the cabin and tried her best to get the creative cogs turning. Five minutes later she closed the lid on her laptop.
    After making a cup of peppermint tea, she stretched out on the loveseat. She took a few sips of tea and waited for the mouth-tingling flavor of peppermint to do more than wake up her taste buds. If she was lucky it would be strong enough to penetrate the cotton blocking her ingenuity.
    She drummed her fingers on the handle of the cup.
    Took a few more sips.
    Ran her fingers around the rim of the glass.
    Downed the remaining tea.
    And cursed.
    The only way to rev up her imagination was to go back to basics—a number two pencil, a pouch of colored pencils, and the feel of paper under her fingertips. She had to put her nose to the grindstone and just start drawing.
    Libby opened the sketchpad. Visions of a halter-type dress in cornflower blue with pearlescent buttons surrounding a teardrop peek hole at the bust rushed in. She hurried to put it on paper before it rushed back out. In the middle of the pattern, she lost interest and dropped the pad and pencils beside the sofa.
    This restlessness was for the birds. She knew what it would take to fix it, but she wasn’t ready to make the first move. Max had