Chapter 11 #2
I do! Belfry announced proudly, and it sounded utterly adorable in his high squeak.
Just not when exciting things are happening.
Luther groaned under his breath, hand going up to rub through his shoulder length, glossy black hair.
It made his bicep bulge against the tightly folded fabric of his shirtsleeve and I had to gulp in a deep breath of air when it suddenly felt ten degrees warmer in here.
I pointed between them, feeling both unhinged and vindicated.
“Okay, hold on. This is real? I’m hearing him, and you’re hearing him too?
Why? How?” Animals did not talk, and I’d never even heard of a talking bat.
Belfry sure looked cute in his red silk vest, perched on a box filled with books, but he also had a mouth full of fangs and a reputation for having rabies.
Well, not him personally—Belfry, that is—but bats in general definitely did.
Luther didn’t even look at me. “It just is.” He clearly did not want to answer and turned away, his hands going back to his hips as he resumed “appraising” the stacked boxes.
He was very obviously ignoring me, and that just wouldn’t do.
A master at ignoring people, he made me forget my earlier surge of attraction with his cold demeanor.
“That is not an answer!” I snapped at him, moving closer and stepping in front of him so there was absolutely no way he could avoid looking at me.
Then I gave Belfry a very pointed look, my eyebrow raised.
The small bat was licking at the sharp thumb claw on his left wing, seemingly oblivious to our bickering.
If not for his absurd outfit, he would have seemed just like any other animal.
“That is the answer you’re getting,” Luther responded, his voice drawing goosebumps along my arms, his eyes glacial.
It was at moments like this, it really felt like he hated me.
No, not hate, that was too strong an emotion, more like…
intense dislike. Well, puh, like I cared anyway.
I was here to do a job, not make friends, and Gwen liked me, that was good enough.
I threw my hands up, giving up and moving around him so I could park my bag on the table across from Belfry.
The tiny bat was staring at me with intensely curious eyes now, but he wasn’t talking.
I was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, at least the bat had seemed excited about meeting me.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, my notebook slamming to the table with more force than necessary. UNEDITED
He finally glanced my way, his expression almost bored.
“If you must have answers so badly, Jade, perhaps you’ll find them in one of these books.
” He gestured around at the chaos with an elegant, long-fingered hand, the vein on his forearm enticing my eyes to track his movements far more than his hand did.
I really was a sucker for a sexy forearm; those rolled-up sleeves were catnip.
I hoped he didn’t realize that, it would be beyond embarrassing.
I huffed, but honestly, I was too buoyed by the morning sunlight streaming into the library to let his grumpiness burrow under my skin.
Light flooded the reading room, catching dust motes in the air like tiny drifting stars.
The space continued to look hopeful, alive.
I wanted to do this place, these books, justice.
For them, for the town, not just for the advancement of my career, and definitely not to prove to one arrogant shopkeeper that I was good at what I did. Even mold couldn’t ruin this moment.
That’s when Belfry chose to flutter up into the darker rafters of the building with a chirped, Fine, time to nap. I stared as he settled himself upside down in the very dusty chandelier and promptly shut his eyes.
“So,” I said, forcing myself back to business.
“The windows. They’re…beautiful. Who fixed them?
” I pointed at the nearest one. They were tall and arched, a row of them on either side of the front door, and more on the back wall facing the garden.
On the second-floor walkway, there were two smaller windows with reading nooks that would be utterly delightful to curl up in once they had been fixed up.
He cleared his throat, unusually stiff. “I arranged for it.” I glanced his way, that was surprisingly forthright of him.
It had not seemed he was very onboard with helping to restore the library.
Then again, I had seen right away that he did care about the books.
Even now, his hand was on one of the boxes, gently opening up the cardboard to peer inside.
“And the supplies?” I asked. There was a crate of mold killer, paint, fresh wood, and much more stacked underneath one of the windows.
That hadn’t been there yesterday, and I was pretty certain it would match Gwen’s list in its entirety.
There was no way she could have arranged for that already, though; she had to have slept as deeply as I had after all that wine.
“Those too,” Luther admitted succinctly, but there was something in his tone that sounded a bit like amusement now.
Perhaps there was even a hint of pride. I took in the shiny, brand-new windows that certainly helped to give this place a new lease on life, and then the neat pile of construction supplies that would further aid in restoring the physical parts of this place.
I blinked, grappling with how much work that was.
“All in one night?” You didn’t just redo ten grand windows, with frames that were probably rotten to the core, in a couple of hours; in the dark.
How deeply had I been asleep? Surely they would have been using all kinds of power tools to accomplish this, but I hadn’t heard a thing.
He shrugged casually, his expression guarded.
“Deputy Drew and Gregory helped. They’re good with tools.
” Three men working through the night had done this?
How had they even gotten this specialty glass so quickly, in the right size, and hoisted it in there without some kind of crane?
Then again, the mayor did say she’d spare no expense to fix up this building and the book collection inside.
She’d even hinted, rather ominously, that the town would need these books now more than ever.
I crossed my arms, a smile tugging at my lips as I considered the locals banding together so eagerly to fix this place.
It was very nice, and all that sunlight streaming in promised a halt to the advancing mold that threatened the ancient books.
“Well, I’ll have to thank all of them personally for. ..”
“No.” The word sliced through the air, sharp and possessive enough to make me jolt.
He pierced me with a stare so glacial, goosebumps broke out all over my skin.
I nearly jerked back a step, too, but at the last moment, managed to halt the impulse.
My fingers tightened roughly on the edge of the old table, squeezing so hard the knuckles went completely white.
“No?” I echoed, raising one brow. He sounded like he was making a decree, and that was the one way to get my hackles up. See, this was how I ended up with impulsive, knee-jerk reactions. Taking a deep breath, I tried to subdue the flare of temper and succeeded by a hair’s breadth.
“That’s not necessary.” His voice dropped lower, and became far more territorial than I expected.
“They don’t need thanking. It’s handled.
” My annoyance flared anew, but embarrassingly, so did a flutter of something warm.
I pretended it was irritation; definitely irritation.
There was no way I was flattered by this strange territorial behavior.
Even though it sounded very much like he didn’t want me talking to other men.
Before I could argue, something on the far table caught my attention: a neat assortment of archival boxes and supplies.
I spotted cotton gloves, soft brushes, and buffered tissue; the holy grails of preservation work.
My heart leapt, and I actually squealed.
“Oh my God, oh my actual God, who did this?”
Of course, I already knew there was only one plausible explanation. Luther had his back turned, pretending to study a patch of mold like it had personally wronged him. I decided, for both our sakes, not to poke at it.
The moment I opened the first archival box, my purpose crystallized.
The world shrank to books, paper, and the thrill of saving them.
Luther surprised me by being…quietly helpful.
He never hovered, just lifted crates when asked, held a lamp steady, or swept aside debris with ease.
In between assisting me, he attacked mold like it had insulted his ancestors.
We worked in companionable silence, shockingly comfortable, until twilight crept in and small wings fluttered overhead. Belfry dropped onto the table beside my hands with a triumphant, Helloooo! I startled, then laughed; it felt good to laugh.
Luther shot the bat a warning look that made the little creature puff up.
I swear, it looked like he enjoyed needling Luther far too much.
“Behave,” he said, with a baring of his teeth that made me blink once, certain I was seeing things.
What if this was a delusion after all—and now it included changes in Luther?
Define “behave,” Belfry retorted. Relief poured through me, warm and undeniable.
No, I wasn’t crazy, this wasn’t me imagining things.
There really was a talking bat in a vest. Which meant…
maybe the other things I’d been seeing weren’t delusions either.
My eyes shot from the sharp but tiny teeth in Belfry’s mouth to Luther again, but he looked completely normal now.
“Um, he won’t bite me, right?” I asked. What I was really wondering was if Luther would be the one to bite me now.
Those fangs I’d glimpsed… It was a little too easy to imagine him embracing me in the shadows of those tall bookshelves and sinking them into my vulnerable neck.
From the tingling in my belly, it wasn’t clear whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing.
Belfry bristled, deeply offended. Bite? Absolutely not!
I only bite Luther when he deserves it. Also, I sometimes breathe fireballs.
Big ones! I tried to picture that, muffling a laugh, and simply couldn’t.
A bat breathing fire? I was pretty sure that would truly be crazy, but crazy had become relative these days.
Luther pinched the bridge of his nose again; I had a feeling he did that a lot in the presence of his pet bat. “He believes that,” Luther murmured, amused despite himself. “You don’t need to worry.”
Something eased between us then, a shared spark of humor, rare and unexpectedly intimate. It was only when I turned to smile that I realized he’d stepped closer; much closer. His presence brushed my skin before I saw him, heat rolling off him despite his cool demeanor.
I looked up and found that he was already looking down.
Gray eyes; sharp, knowing, hungry gray eyes.
“Jade,” he drawled, his voice sliding over my name like warm silk.
“Did you enjoy that wine last night?” My breath stalled, and my body went still, trapped in the predatory heat of his gaze.
Everything stilled, the library going quiet, growing hushed as if it were holding its breath. All I could do was nod.
His mouth curved, slow and sinfully satisfied.
“Good. At that price tag, it certainly deserves to be enjoyed thoroughly.” His gaze flicked from my eyes to my mouth, then tracked a path along my jaw, down my throat to the rise and fall of my chest beneath my shirt.
Thoroughly, huh? I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the wine any longer.