Chapter 11
Jade
I woke up feeling amazing; suspiciously amazing.
For a moment, I lay there, blinking up at the soft yellow ceiling of my room in the Sweet Dreams Guaranteed B there wasn’t even a twinge. Gwen hadn’t been kidding: the dreams here really were guaranteed.
I sat up, stretching, then reached for the new jeans and soft cream sweater I’d set aside.
As I dressed and washed up, I kept replaying how utterly divine that red wine had been.
I didn’t know much about alcohol, not really, but that bottle Luther shoved at me must have been expensive.
It tasted like velvet, berries, and forbidden fruit.
And sharing it with Gwen… God, that had been fun!
We might not have known each other long, but there was this amazing click.
That had been actual girlfriend talk—plotting what to do about the library first, laughing too loudly, swearing that no amount of mold would keep us from restoring the reading room.
Then Jackson had arrived, I recalled that moment with perfect clarity.
“Jade,” he’d greeted politely before scooping a very tipsy, giggling Gwen over his shoulder like she weighed nothing and carrying her out the door.
I’d waved after them, feeling warm and a little mushy about their dynamic.
It was sweet, and now I very badly wanted something like that for myself.
Attempting to call my old college roommate afterward had been a mistake.
I’d gotten her voicemail and mumbled something barely coherent before giving up.
Drunk Jade was not an eloquent Jade. Hey, at least I’d tried, I told myself.
That was a start. It would be nice to know how Maggie was doing these days.
My artistic friend had always dreamed big, and she would get a kick out of me kicking David, that was for sure.
This morning I felt sparkling, energetic—no hangover in sight.
This B I was now fully convinced.
It was a better delusion than talking bats, at least. I felt so light and good that I couldn’t even let my failure to reach Maggie get me down.
The only damper was the recollection of Luther, quite literally, shoving me out the door last night.
Downstairs, breakfast was a quiet affair.
Gwen, looking perfectly normal despite last night’s “Jackson, put me down, I am a dignified adult woman,” served scrambled eggs and fruit before informing me she had errands today.
I would never forget the image of her draped over the shoulder of her sheriff’s arm like she was his prize—eyes bright with laughter and cheeks pink from the alcohol. She’d looked so happy.
“I’ll join you again tomorrow,” she added with a soft smile that made me suspicious.
Gwen’s smiles were generally bright, but this one was rather secretive.
“Don’t get into too much trouble without me.
” The last was almost said with a hint of laughing reprimand, as if she fully expected me to get into trouble regardless.
I had not told her about the incident with my boss, at least, I didn’t recall doing so, but who knew what I’d said after half a bottle of red.
“What trouble?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Did she expect me to have an accident when dealing with the ancient library, or did she suspect that Luther and I would butt heads again?
The last thing I needed was to run into him again, but the Mayor had implied that he’d be working closely with me.
So far, “close” was about all I could call it, because he seemed very fond of invading my space, physically and mentally.
She only hummed, not giving me an actual reply.
I didn’t get an answer until I stepped out onto Main Street.
I froze on the steps of the B&B and stared.
“What?” I spluttered, surprised and possibly a little baffled.
The library, my sad, boarded-up, slightly tragic library, had transformed.
The plywood was gone, and every single broken window replaced by shining, spotless panes.
Sunlight poured through the glass, like the building had been holding its breath for a century.
It looked alive. Bright. Hopeful. My heart thudded in my chest, warmth filling my veins at such a beautiful, welcoming sight. Who? When? How? My mind whispered that this was all Luther’s doing. Gwen had to have seen it when she crossed the street to get to the B&B this morning to make my breakfast.
Wind stirred at my back, as if urging me forward, and I approached the library with slow, careful steps.
The door, previously locked and creaky, gave under my hand without resistance.
I knew this was a small town, and the chances that a thief was wandering about were probably very small.
I was still very certain nobody would leave a place like this unlocked. Which meant… I swallowed. Was he here?
I stepped inside, dread replacing the warmth and hope from moments ago.
That was a feeling I wanted to brush off, stuff into a corner in my mind, and ignore.
The library was transformed, and I wanted to fully enjoy it.
The interior, though still moldy and chaotic, was brighter by a mile.
The daylight streaming in revealed details I’d completely missed yesterday.
Then I heard him, just a “Hmm,” as if he were talking to himself, thinking out loud. It was that same deep, velvety rumble from last night, when he’d so rudely shoved wine into my arms and then thrown me out of his shop.
Luther stood near the central reading table, hands on his hips, as he surveyed the stacks of boxes piled there.
He was much like a general preparing for war.
His black hair was loose again today, like when we’d first met, and he wore no jacket, just a shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His forearms looked like someone had carved them out of marble and then decided marble wasn’t nearly devastating enough.
Muscles flexed under tawny skin as he shifted his stance, and a dark vein traced along one wrist, like some kind of sinful detail added for effect.
The bat from last night. Yes, that bat, tiny vest and all, clung comfortably to his shoulder.
I stared. I absolutely stared. First at the bat, because I still could not get over the fact that he was real.
I had not even dared ask Gwen about it, just in case I was still making this up.
Mostly, though, I stared at him. The universe had no right to make a man like that. No right at all.
“You’re early,” Luther said without turning, his voice sending a little electric shock straight down my spine.
I jumped like I’d been caught stealing. At least he didn’t sound angry or grumpy this time, and his words were the polar opposite of his greeting yesterday.
Early? It was the same time as yesterday, and now he thought I was early instead of late? This guy made my head spin.
“I… Sure, good morning,” I sputtered, heat flooding my cheeks.
“What do you mean, ‘on time’?” I soldiered on.
“Wasn’t this late to you yesterday?” There, polite but firm, asking for clarification in this weird, confusing relationship that was forming between me and the far-too-handsome shop owner, who apparently had a bat as a pet.
“Hmm,” he said again, hands on his hips, head turning slowly as he looked at the pile of boxes again.
“I adjusted my schedule to yours this time, so now you are indeed right on time.” Okay, well…
I guess that worked. It certainly beat being snarked at right after breakfast for something I hadn’t done, at least not on purpose.
Turning slowly, he finally faced me. His icy gray eyes flicked over me, my sweater, my jeans, my absolutely mortified expression, and something unreadable crossed his face.
His gaze lingered just a second too long, and my stomach performed a full somersault.
Then, mayhem ensued when the bat hanging off his shoulder whispered loudly into Luther’s ear, She was staring.
“I HEARD THAT,” I blurted. Good God, I had heard that—and I wanted someone to finally admit I wasn’t going crazy. Luther pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his throat, sounding beyond weary.
The moment I blurted that I’d heard the bat’s whisper, Luther went very, very still—not dramatically, just with the quiet, weary stillness of a man who’d long expected the universe to personally antagonize him, and felt vindicated every time it did.
“Of course you heard him,” he muttered, exhaling sharply.
“Why wouldn’t this become more complicated? ”
The fluffy little creature perked up, delighted. His gold chain gleamed proudly around his tiny neck in the bright spring sunshine pouring in through the brand-new, beautiful windows. She heard me again! Luther, this is excellent news…
His words were clear as a bell, but they were not directed at me.
I looked from the bat on Luther’s shoulder to Luther’s face with an absurd amount of hope.
“Belfry.” Luther’s tone carried the finality of a loaded trapdoor.
“Jade. Belfry. Belfry, Jade. Introductions complete.” I raised my hand automatically, as if I intended to shake someone’s hand, then quickly hid my palm behind my back.
He flicked the bat off his shoulder with two fingers, like brushing away a crumb.
“Now, be on your best behavior. Which, if I recall correctly, involves sleeping. Don’t bats sleep during the day?
” He said that like he’d said it a million times already, and he had stopped expecting his bat to actually do as expected.