Chapter 17 Penny
17
PENNY
“What do you mean you can’t make it?” I groaned, wedging my phone between my ear and shoulder as I dragged a lumpy, well-loved bean bag across the library’s carpet floor toward the youth section. The thing skipped with every tug, like it was just as overworked as I was.
It was barely ten in the morning—only an hour into our day—and I already felt like I’d run a marathon. My dress stuck to my back from the hustle, and my to-do list kept growing like it had a personal vendetta against me.
Boone was supposed to be my reader for a second-grade field trip, but currently, he was on the other end of the line, claiming he’d “fallen ill.” Total bullshit if you asked me. His cough sounded about as fake as a toddler apologizing after drawing on the books with a marker. Trust me, I knew exactly what that sounded like.
As if that weren’t enough, I had a group of elderly crafters arriving soon to set up for their weekend craft show in one of the rec rooms. I’d promised to help them with tables, chairs, and making sure the hot glue guns didn’t burn down the building.
Oh, and because I apparently hate myself, I also volunteered to man the circulation desk while Crystal—our new hire—took her daughter to the dentist.
One body. Three tasks. No clones in sight.
If someone asked me what superpower I wanted at the moment, I wouldn’t have hesitated—the power to be in multiple places at once. Or maybe to stop time. Either one would do.
I stopped halfway across the lobby, letting the bean bag fall from my hand with a dramatic thud. My chest rose and fell with an exaggerated sigh as I looked up to the ceiling, silently praying for strength, patience, or maybe divine intervention.
“I’m really sorry, Pen,” Boone said through the speaker, followed by another pitiful excuse for a cough.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes. “It’s okay,” I muttered, half to him, half to myself. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
We said our goodbyes—him adding one final, theatrical cough—and I slipped my phone into the side pocket of my floral dress.
I did always figure it out. When life threw impossible decisions and chaotic days my way, I somehow managed to walk out of them victorious. Flustered, sure. Maybe a little sweaty. But victorious nonetheless.
Still, this morning? This was pushing it.
My mind was spinning, a dizzying carousel of logistics and timelines. There was no room for panic, so I shoved it down and turned on my inner machine.
No more dragging. I heaved the bean bag into my arms and power-walked toward the story circle like I was competing in the library Olympics.
I dropped it in place with another dull whump and glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes until the kids started pouring in.
Plenty of time for a breakdown. But instead, I grabbed the hair tie from around my wrist and whipped my mop of chestnut-brown hair into a bun. A few rebellious strands framed my face, but I let them stay. They softened the exhausted edge in my reflection when I caught it in the window.
With a deep breath and a fresh—if totally fake—smile, I made a beeline for the circulation desk. This was the kind of smile you wear not because you feel it, but because people need to see it. That’s what being dependable looked like—showing up, smiling, and pretending everything was fine even when your brain was screaming otherwise.
I’d never been a girl with a lot of strong opinions—at least not about the everyday stuff. What to eat? Didn’t matter. What to do on a date? I was happy just being with someone I cared about.
But ask me whether aliens had been to Earth? Buckle up because I had thoughts.
I was easy, go with the flow, but right now, I felt like I was being pulled so tight I was going to snap.
I reached the circulation desk and pulled up the hold list. First task: check if any of the returned books matched holds, and if so, make the calls. Usually, this was quick… unless I got stuck on the line with one of our chatty locals.
In those cases? I’d pretend someone just walked in, toss in a polite excuse, and hang up before getting roped into a thirty-minute debate over who made the best peach cobbler in town.
I spun around, arms full of returned books freshly collected from the bin, barely managing to keep them balanced in my grasp. Just as I turned back toward the desk, a figure appeared out of nowhere.
“Geez,” I gasped, clutching the books tighter as my heart jumped in my chest. I let out a shaky breath. “You scared me.”
Mac was popping up out of nowhere way too often lately.
He stood with that infuriatingly perfect grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hair was tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, and those impossibly dreamy eyes locked onto mine like he had all the time in the world.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said smoothly. “I was going to say something, but you turned around too fast.”
I placed the stack of books on the counter a little harder than necessary and shifted my weight, cocking a hip with an exasperated sigh. My expression must have said it all—I didn’t have time for his games today.
“Look,” I said, my tone sharp. “Unless you’re here to help me set up for the craft show, run the circ desk, or read to a pack of hyper second graders, this is really not the time for you to be bothering me.”
My voice came out tight, clipped. Harsher than I’d intended, but I was hanging by a thread. My nerves were shot, my to-do list was growing by the minute, and my brain had officially reached maximum capacity.
Lately, it felt like I lived at the edge of a breakdown. Since… well, since everything between Mac and me, I hadn’t felt quite right. Like I was a coil wound too tightly, holding in more than I could manage.
“You’re in luck,” he said, sliding his hands casually into his jeans pockets, every inch of him relaxed while I was anything but. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, stubborn and steady. “I’m here for option three.”
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. “What?”
He shifted his weight like this was no big deal. “I’m taking Boone’s spot.”
I stared at him, eyebrows shooting up so high they probably disappeared into my hairline. My jaw dropped—and then I laughed. It bubbled out before I could stop it, a mix of disbelief and the tiniest bit of unhinged amusement.
Mac Ridley? Reading to second graders?
I tried to picture it. Boone had flair—he used voices, exaggerated expressions, and dramatic pauses that had the kids hanging on every word. He turned story time into a whole performance. Mac… well, Mac had never struck me as the flair type.
He had big cowboy boots to fill, and I wasn’t entirely sure he knew what he’d signed up for.
Before I could say as much, he held up a hand like he knew exactly what was coming.
“Before you hit me with some smartass comment, let me remind you we’ve already established I can read. Remember when I checked out those books last week?”
I folded my arms, watching him with wary amusement.
He grinned wider. “And really, how hard could it be?”
Mac sat in the wooden-backed chair, the book propped open on his lap like it belonged there, like he belonged there.
I didn’t bother asking another question, didn’t hit him with a wise-ass comment or a reminder that this wasn’t some performance to wing—it didn’t matter. He showed up. That was enough. So I pointed him toward the reading corner and let him take over. If Mac Ridley believed he could handle a room full of second graders, who was I to tell a grown man no?
He got himself settled, long legs stretched out, cowboy boots on. His posture relaxed in a way only someone like him could pull off without looking lazy. As the kids arrived—backpacks bouncing, voices chirping—I guided them toward the man in the chair.
“Go sit with Mr. Ridley,” I said with a small smile. “He’s got a few books about dragons picked just for you.”
And then I left him to it. I didn’t have the time—or honestly, the energy—to babysit a bartender playing story time hero. There were tables to move, decorations to hang, and a group of silver-haired crafters bossing me around like drill sergeants. I didn’t mind; in fact, their take-no-prisoners attitude gave me something to focus on.
But now? Now I needed a breather. Five minutes of peace and a drink of water before I went back into the crafting trenches.
Maybe I wanted to check in on Mac, too.
I sipped from my bottle as I quietly stood in the back of the kids’ section, keeping to the edge of the room. What I saw made my breath hitch in a way I didn’t expect.
Mac was into it.
His voice shifted from soft and growly to squeaky and shrill as he brought the dragon characters to life. His expressions were animated, eyes wide, brows rising, mouth twisting into exaggerated shapes with every turn of the page. The kids? They were enraptured. Completely locked in on him, giggling and gasping at every twist in the story.
And me?
I was locked in, too.
Something warm cracked through my chest, just enough to make me suck in a slow breath. The wall I’d carefully built between Mac and my heart had a fracture now—a thin, glittering line of something…
We’d never gotten serious enough to talk about the future. Kids, family, that kind of thing—it was all just too far away then. But now, standing there watching him like this, the urge stirred in me. A tiny ache, sweet and slow, crept up my spine. A vision I hadn’t asked for slipped into my mind.
Little feet pounding through our house. Laughter echoing off the walls. Mac making those same ridiculous faces, telling bedtime stories to children with his eyes full of love and mischief. Our children.
My head tilted to the side, like some cliché out of a rom-com—the moment the female lead realizes, Oh no, I’m falling for him. Time didn’t quite stop, but it slowed just enough for my heart to thud a little harder.
Then Mac grinned.
Those dimples. That damn smile. All white teeth and charm and something magnetic that pulled me in without asking.
Nope.
I blinked, snapping myself out of it. I spun on my heels so fast I nearly lost my footing.
I needed to get back to work. Whatever that moment was, it was too much. Too dangerous. Too real. Too soon.
Taking one last sip of water, I headed back toward the rec room. I’d taken this little moment to cool down… and somehow ended up feeling anything but.