Chapter 3
THREE
FLYNN
I hadn't intended to stop at the library. I'd been walking to the post office when the sound of children's laughter drifted through the open doors, followed by a familiar voice doing what could only be described as a dragon impression.
My feet had a mind of their own apparently.
The children's section was packed. Two dozen kids sat cross-legged on the carpet in a perfect semicircle, their faces turned up toward Clark.
He was perched on a tiny chair that looked like it might collapse under him at any moment, and holding up a picture book, making his voice rumble and growl as he read about the dragon who collected stories instead of gold.
My dragon. The one Clark had said reminded him of me.
"And the dragon thought to himself," Clark continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that had every child leaning forward, "Maybe... maybe sharing one story wouldn't hurt.”
A little girl with pigtails raised her hand. "Is the dragon scared?"
Clark considered the question. "You know what? I think he is a little scared. It's hard to share something you love with people you don't know very well. What if they don't like it? What if they laugh?"
Several small heads nodded, and I found myself nodding too before catching myself.
"But do you know what the dragon discovers?" Clark's encouraging smile had me waiting for his answer. "Sometimes the very best thing about loving something is getting to share it with people who might love it too."
The story continued, and I should have left. I had books to unpack and orders to process. I had a ton of legitimate reasons to be anywhere but lurking in the library doorway watching Clark work magic in a room full of children.
But I stayed.
He appeared to be in his element. When he read the part about the dragon's treasure hoard, he gestured to show how big it was.
When the village children first approached the dragon's cave, he made his voice small.
And when the dragon finally shared his first story, Clark's whole face lit up with joy that my heart did little flippy flops. Flippy flops? Where did that come from?
The kids hung on his every word. A boy who couldn't have been more than five was completely absorbed with an open mouth and wide eyes.
Two girls whispered to each other during an exciting part, their eyes never leaving Clark's face.
Even the parents scattered around the edges of the group seemed charmed.
Clark connected to his audience and an ability to bring stories to life and make them matter to people.
The reading ended with enthusiastic applause, and Clark fielded questions with the patience of someone who loved talking to children. Yes, he really wrote the book himself. No, he didn't have a pet dragon, but wouldn't that be cool? Yes, he was working on another dragon story.
"Will you come back and read it to us?" a boy asked.
"I'd love to," he replied. "Ms. Janine and I will figure out when would be a good time.”
As the crowd dispersed, I was still standing in the doorway like a creeper. I turned to leave before Clark noticed me, but Janine Rutherford, the head librarian, spotted me first.
"Flynn! How nice to see you here." Her voice carried just far enough that Clark looked up, his eyes finding mine across the room.
Heat crept over my cheeks. "I was just... passing by."
"Wasn't that wonderful?" Janine beamed. "Clark is such a natural with the children. We're so lucky to have him participating in our summer reading program."
I made a noncommittal sound as Clark made his way over to us through the lingering crowd of kids and parents.
"Flynn, right?" His warm smile did something to my insides. "Nice to see you again."
"Clark." I nodded, trying to ignore the way his hair was slightly mussed from his animated reading or how his cheeks were still flushed with enthusiasm. My wolf was wide awake and telling me how he liked Clark.
"You know," Janine looked between us with a calculating expression that made me nervous, "I was just telling Martin the other day that we need more local businesses involved in our literacy initiatives. A bookstore and children's author partnership would be perfect."
The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge. Clark's expression remained politely interested, but I caught the flicker of hope in his eyes.
Martin's words echoed in my head. "A little life wouldn't kill you."
"I..." I started. The rational part of my brain listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Children in my store meant noise, the possibility of damaged books and disrupted customers. I’d have to open my carefully controlled space to the kind of unpredictability I'd spent years avoiding.
But I kept thinking of Clark answering that little kid’s question about the dragon being scared. “Sometimes the very best thing about loving something is getting to share it with people who might love it too.”
"I might be interested in hosting a reading.” Who said that? Was it me? “A small one."
Clark's face lit up as if I'd offered him the moon. "Really? That would be amazing."
"Small," I repeated. "Maybe ten kids maximum."
"Ten is perfect.” Clark grinned. "We could do it on a Saturday afternoon? I promise I'll help set up and clean up afterward."
Janine was practically vibrating with excitement. "This is wonderful! I can coordinate with some of our regular families. Flynn, this is exactly what your store needs."
I wasn't sure about that, but it was too late to back out now. We made tentative plans for the following Saturday, and I escaped before Janine could volunteer me for anything else.
The walk back to my store felt surreal. Had I really just agreed to host a children's reading? My wolf was practically preening with satisfaction, which made no sense. Since when did he care about community outreach?
Since Clark Branigan walked into my life, apparently.
Saturday afternoon arrived faster than I would have liked.
I'd spent the morning rearranging the front section of my store, moving the most fragile displays to higher shelves and creating a small clearing near the children's section.
It still looked pathetic compared to the library's dedicated space, but it would have to do.
Clark arrived thirty minutes early, carrying a bag of supplies and wearing jeans and a sweater that brought out the green of his eyes. He looked around the store.
"This is perfect.” He made me believe it might be true.
We arranged the few folding chairs I'd borrowed from the coffee shop next door, and he chattered about which story he'd chosen and how he structured his readings. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself almost looking forward to what was coming.
That lasted until the children arrived.
Ten kids as promised, but they might as well have been fifty. They tumbled through the door with their bright clothes and excited voices, followed by harried-looking parents who began apologizing for everything their offspring might potentially do.
"Tommy, don't touch anything!" one father called as his son made a beeline for my rare books section.
"Inside voices, sweethearts," another parent reminded his boys who were already examining my science fiction display with sticky fingers.
I watched in horror as my quiet, orderly world transformed into something resembling a zoo.
Clark seemed to take it all in stride. "Okay, everyone, let's gather around for our story! If you find a spot on the floor, we can get started."
The children arranged themselves in a rough circle, and gradually the pandemonium settled into something loud instead of deafening. Clark held up the same dragon book he'd shown me that first day, and immediately had the kids’ attention.
"This is a story about a dragon who was a lot like Mr. Flynn here.” Clark nodded at me. "He loved books more than anything else in the world."
Every small face turned to look at me, and I fought the urge to hide behind my counter.
"Did you know that Mr. Flynn has read almost every book in this store?" Clark continued. "That's like having a superpower."
A little boy raised his hand. "Can you really read all these books?"
"Not all at once," I said and the kids giggled.
"Mr. Flynn is very smart.” Clark spoke with such genuine warmth that my heart did the same flip flopping as the day in the library. "Just like our dragon."
The reading began and I was drawn in despite my reservations.
Clark brought the same energy he'd had at the library, making voices for each character and encouraging the children to participate.
When the dragon roared, they roared too.
And when Clark read about the dragon sharing his stories with people who might love them, his eyes found mine across the room.
My insides were warm and gooey like a yummy brownie.
The kids asked questions afterward, just like at the library. But several of them had questions for me.
"Do you have any books about real dragons?" a boy with glasses wanted to know.
"What's your favorite book?" asked another.
"Are you friends with Mr. Clark now?" a third child asked Clark.
I glanced at Clark, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. "We're... getting to know each other."
The children accepted this diplomatic answer and moved on to more pressing concerns, like whether I had any books about dinosaurs. I did. And if they could come back next week. They couldn't, but maybe next month.
Parents corralled their offspring, offering thanks and promises that their children would be more careful next time. Several asked about my regular hours, and one father bought three books on his way out.
"See?" Clark said as the last family left. "That wasn't so bad."
I looked around my store. There were fingerprints on some of the lower shelves, and someone had left a juice box on my poetry section. One of my displays had been knocked slightly askew, and there were goldfish cracker crumbs near the children's books.
It should have bothered me. All of it should have sent my control freak tendencies into overdrive.
Instead, I felt oddly... satisfied.
"It was louder than I expected," I admitted.
He laughed. "Kids usually are. But did you see their faces when you talked about your favorite books? You made reading sound like the coolest thing in the world."
"It is," I said without thinking, as heat rose in my cheeks.
"Exactly." I glowed under his approving smile. "That's what I saw in you from the beginning. You don't just sell books, Flynn. You love them. And when you share that love, even a little bit, it matters."
He gathered up his supplies while I straightened the chairs, and for a few minutes we worked in silence. It felt natural and easy.
"Thank you.” He prepared to leave. "For giving this a try. I know it wasn't easy for you."
"It wasn't terrible.” That was as close to a glowing endorsement as I was capable of giving.
His grin suggested he understood exactly what I was trying to say. "High praise from Flynn Tolliver.”
After he left, I spent an hour putting my store back in order, but I kept thinking about the afternoon and the kids listening to me when I'd talked about books. Sharing something I loved hadn't been a mistake just like the dragon in the story.
My wolf was eager to see Clark again, and I was too.