Chapter 20
“Turn green,” I plead as I stare at the red light taunting me.
I’ve been sitting here half of forever waiting for the light to change.
My car is the only vehicle on the road, but I know as soon as I give up on waiting and press the gas to go anyway, Sheriff Jacobs will come out from behind his hiding place around the corner with his lights flashing.
This is his favorite spot to meet his traffic violation quota each month. I swear this one traffic light has single-handedly funded the city’s improvements for the last few years, including the commission of the chainsaw sculpture Dalton’s working on now.
The red on the light dims, and the green brightens.
“Finally.” Even though I drive an automatic, I find myself pressing an imaginary clutch with my left foot and reaching for a gearshift that isn’t there. As the speedometer needle moves on my dashboard, I mentally shift gears like I had in Tai’s car.
Brett had tried to teach me how to drive a stick shift once.
To say the experience hadn’t gone over well would be an understatement.
He wasn’t nearly as patient or encouraging as Tai was.
And I get it. Repairs to transmissions are beyond pricey.
When the gear had slipped out of second and a terrible thud sounded from under Brett’s hood, I’d thought the transmission had fallen out onto the road and I’d ruined his car for good.
Or at least did a couple thousand dollars’ worth of damage.
To Brett’s credit, he hadn’t yelled or cursed at me. He’d merely pursed his thin lips together and clenched his jaw so hard he’d been in danger of chipping a tooth. Then, in a voice that would raise the hair on even Alfred Hitchcock’s arms, he’d said the lesson was over.
I figured I was a lost cause. Turns out, I just needed a different teacher.
Who would’ve thought Tai fit that bill so well?
There’s not much of his hard-edged exterior that gives a person a hint to the patient, even-keeled man under the surface.
I’d been waiting with bated breath the entire lesson for his lid to pop, especially after the sickening sound of the gears grinding for the third time.
But he’d appeared unbothered and just encouraged me to try again.
The whole evening left me confused, but nothing more so than that confounded driving lesson that had come out of the blue.
Like an actor tired of playing pigeonholed roles, he’d stepped out of the part he normally played—the charmer promising a good time—and into a part that fit him surprisingly and convincingly well.
Admitting I’m physically attracted to Tai comes with little risk. To paraphrase Forrest Gump, “Pretty is as pretty does.” Like Tai’s tattoos, I’d tried to convince myself that his particular brand of pretty only went skin deep.
But if that’s the case, then he wouldn’t have treated me with such kindness and long-suffering.
He wouldn’t have gone the extra mile to make me feel at ease and boost my confidence to attempt something I was more than reluctant to try.
Not when there was absolutely nothing in it for him but the possibility of an astronomical mechanic bill.
But none of that really matters, does it? My attraction to him. Whether he’s hiding a deep soul worth getting to know beneath his wolfish facade. The fact that I enjoyed myself an alarming amount.
None of it matters because I know exactly how things will play out if I allow myself to walk down that road at this time in my life.
I can’t do it. Not yet. I’m not strong enough to watch the desire dim from a man’s eyes again when he looks at me after he realizes I’ve been stripped of basic physical features we take for granted.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be strong enough to risk that again.
I pull into the library’s back lot and park in the space farthest from the building, leaving the closer spaces for our patrons.
There’s a cloth tote full of books in the back seat that I need to return, so I grab those and make my way to the rear entrance, key in hand.
Both Hayley and Martha’s cars are sitting in the upper lot.
Looks like my little detour to Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe has made me a bit later than I expected. And all for nothing.
I sigh and slip the key into the deadbolt, unlock the door, then step into the dimly lit building. I lock the door behind me. There’s still five minutes until we officially open.
“What have you been up to this morning?” Hayley’s voice comes out of nowhere.
I give an unladylike squeal, pressing a palm against my knocking pulse. “Sheesh. You about gave me a heart attack.”
Her smile is unrepentant. “Sorry.”
“Sure you are. I swear you’re the master of jump scares. You should hire yourself out to haunted houses around Halloween. You’d make a pretty penny.”
She falls into step next to me, her grin wide. “I never beat you to work. Hot date keep you out late last night?”
A jumble of sounds clog my throat. Like Scrabble tiles being shaken in a Yahtzee cup then spilled onto a table, the letters are there to form a response, but they aren’t in any intelligible order to form coherent words.
I hadn’t thought about this aspect of my arrangement with Tai. Of course people are going to see us spending time together and form their own conclusions. Unless our not-a-real-date outings are beyond the city limits. Is that a stipulation I should make?
Or maybe I should let people, and Hayley especially, think we’re dating.
Maybe that will get her to stop dropping hints about my lack of a love life.
She’s been subtle so far, but I know my stance on staying single is driving her curiosity to crazy-monkey heights.
Pretty soon she’ll no longer be appeased by my vague answers and throw down the friendship card to try to get me to spill.
I plan to tell her about my alopecia. One day. It’s not like I think she’ll see me any differently, it’s just . . . well . . . yeah, she might see me differently. I’m not ready to give up my anonymity and normalcy yet.
Saying I’m dating her cousin will throw her off my scent, if only for a little bit.
We’ll have to concoct some plan about our mutually ending the relationship once I’ve successfully made a few love connections and gotten to know my fellow townspeople enough not to need Tai’s help anymore.
I’m sure I can think of something convincing that won’t paint either of us in a bad light.
“Actually—”
“What am I saying?” Hayley shakes her head.
“Evangeline Kelly doesn’t date.” She peeks in my tote and retrieves the top book.
“Your tardiness must’ve been caused by—” She reads the title, then looks back at me with a smirk.
“Got a thing for elves and hobbits, huh? No wonder no mortal man can do it for you.”
“Yes, you’ve found me out,” I say dryly. “It’s the heroes of Middle Earth for me or none at all.”
She laughs as she hip-checks me. “My cousin never stood a chance.”
An image of Tai in battle armor fills my imagination. He may be on the shorter side, but the definition of his muscles and the broadness of his shoulders make me think he could fill out a suit of armor nicely.
Time to think of something else.
“Did you reread the series for the book club discussion today?” Hayley asks. “I can’t imagine this is the first time you’ve made it through Tolkien’s classic.”
“Third time, and yes.”
Hayley returns The Fellowship of the Ring to my tote. “Will I lose librarian street cred if I admit that I’ve never read the series?”
I stop and stare at her. How could she make it through her academic career without cracking the spines of Lord of the Rings? Even more baffling, how could she have never read the books for sheer pleasure?
“If I had the power to fire you, I’d do so here and now.” I start walking again. “I feel like I don’t know you.”
“I’ve never read a single Bronte novel either.”
She’s like the Luftwaffe, dropping bombs left and right.
I shake my head. “And you call yourself a librarian.”
She giggles and pulls on my arm. “What were the names of those children who got lost in a wardrobe?”
I dig in my heels, my lack of movement and her grip on my arm swinging her around to face me. “The Pevensies? You’ve never read The Chronicles of Narnia either? Have you ever read any book?”
She looks at me, then bursts out laughing. “Oh, Evangeline, you should see your face.” She hooks her arm more fully through mine. “I’m so glad you moved here. I knew the moment we met that we would be bosom friends.”
“At least you’ve read Anne of Green Gables,” I grumble. Honestly, I can’t tell if Hayley is pulling my leg or is serious about her lack of reading.
“Have I? Or have I just seen the movie adaptation with Megan Follows?”
“We’re open!” Martha hollers from the front of the library.
I step behind the front desk and return my books into the system, placing them on the return cart to reshelve later.
A man walks in through the glass doors and strides toward the desk as if he’s on a mission. His hair is cut in a military style, his bearing one of command. Who knows, maybe a mission is exactly what he’s on.
Hayley takes one look at him, squeaks like a mouse, then scurries away.
My painted-on brows jump to my artificial hairline as I watch her retreating back.
What in the world? I’ve never once seen Hayley run from anyone, impending general or not. If anything, I would have expected her to turn on the charm that must be a family trait and walk away with a date for the evening.
“Can I help you, sir?” I ask when he stops in front of me.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for a book.” His eyes dart around the shelves as if waiting for enemy combatants to jump out at any minute. “It’s, uh, blue, I think?”
I offer him my most polite smile. “Do you know any other information about the book? The title or author, perhaps?”
He seems as if he’s trying to recall some top-secret redacted files before shaking his head. “Sorry. I think it was military related somehow. Maybe written about or by a sergeant? My sister asked me to pick it up for my nephew, if that helps.”
“So, a children’s book, then?”
He nods once. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Our children’s section is over here.” I tap my chin as I walk around the desk to direct him toward the part of the library most likely to shelf the book he’s looking for.
“Let’s see, a children’s book about a sergeant.
Oh! Could you be looking for a book about Sergeant Stubby?
He was a stray who became a national icon and famous war dog of World War I. ”
The man shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound right. Do you have a book written by a sergeant? My sister mentioned a name, but I can’t recall it at the moment. A Sergeant Skivvies, maybe?”
I stop walking and think. I’ve never heard of an author named Sergeant Skivvies. What a funny name too. Skivvies. Isn’t that the military term for underwear?
Dawning comes on a wave of laughter that I manage to choke down. “Could Sergeant Skivvies be Captain Underpants?” Wouldn’t Dav Pilkey, the author, get a kick out of this one.
I lead him to a book with a blue background, just as he’d said, with a comic-style grown man wearing nothing but a pair of tighty-whities and a red cape around his neck.
The nearly naked cartoon on the cover is the principal of two kids who accidentally hypnotize him into becoming Captain Underpants. I pick the book up and hand it to him.
A myriad of emotions march in formation across his face as he examines the book in his hands, shock leading the charge. He glances back at me, a hint of red to his cheeks that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome.” I turn before the chuckle I’ve been suppressing makes it past my defenses. Sergeant Skivvies. Martha is going to lose it with this one when I tell her.
“Is he gone?” Hayley whisper-shouts from her hiding place behind a shelf of books about communicable diseases. I should give her a feather duster while she’s back there. No one ever checks out those books. Not that I can blame them.
I peek over my shoulder. The man finishes at the self-check kiosk, then heads to the door. “He’s leaving now.”
Hayley visibly relaxes. “Good.”
My attention snags on two spines with Dewey decimal numbers out of order. I reach for the books to reshelve them correctly. “Care to explain what that was about?”
“Not without a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, no.”
I chuff out a laugh. “Fair enough.” It would take more than ice cream for me to want to discuss Brett, so I get it.
She adjusts the hem of her shirt. “This month’s book club attendees have started to arrive, by the way.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Already? But it’s not supposed to start for another twenty minutes. I haven’t even set the room up yet.”
Hayley shrugs and walks past me. “I’m pretty sure he won’t mind helping.”
The nonchalance in her voice sounds false, and my suspicion-detecting-antennae instantly rises. “He?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Tai loves Tolkien too.”