Hot Talker – by Rhian Cahill #2
“You’ll find a good selection of romance over there, two rows back on the left, but we have a shelf of latest releases over here.” I point in two different directions. “If you’re looking for a specific author or title, let me know. I can look it up to see if we have them and if they’re available.”
“Thank you. I don’t have anything in mind. I’ll browse and see what grabs me.”
“Okay.” My voice is high, higher than it normally is, but I can’t seem to control the excitement bubbling in my veins. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll definitely let you know when I need you.”
His words and the sexy smirk and wink he gives me before he saunters away makes me rethink what I said.
As the words replay in my head, I realize the double entendre I unwittingly offered him.
I’m no stranger to the opposite sex, or sex, although admittedly my experience is limited. And altogether forgettable. But I know he just flirted with me.
As I watch his tight butt disappear behind the stacks, I’m left with a feeling of disappointment that tamps down the fizz of attraction tightening my lower belly and tickling my nerve endings.
“That sure is a fine-looking man. If I were a few decades younger, I’d be following wherever he wanted to lead.”
I turn to find Mrs. Crenshaw grinning in the direction Kallan went. “Mrs. C!”
“What?” Her gaze moves to me. “I’m old, not dead. And that is one fine, fine young man.”
I stifle a giggle.
One of the best things about working in the library is Mrs. C. When Mom skipped town over a year ago with her latest flavor of the month, Mrs. C didn’t just give me a job. She helped me navigate changing the lease on our apartment into my name so I could stay in my home.
Well, keep a roof over my head anyway. The tiny one-bedroom basement apartment of a house that borders one of the older areas of the city isn’t really a home.
It’s where I keep my clothes and the mattress I sleep on. There’s nothing but a small fridge barely big enough to keep milk and butter in. and with the small amount of money I have left after rent, I can barely afford either of those anyway.
Peanut Butter sandwiches are my go-to most days. Morning, noon and night.
“You should go ask him out.” Mrs. C nudges me with her elbow.
“What? No!” I shake my head, my gaze moving back to where I last saw Kallan.
“Why not? I thought women were independent nowadays and could do the asking.”
“Well, yes, but I don’t even know him.”
“That’s what going out is for. To get to know him.”
She’s right, dating is for getting to know each other, but I’d never have the nerve to ask a man out. I watched Mom chase men most of my life. I don’t want to be anything like her.
“Haven?”
“Hmm…”
“Go see if he needs any help. I’ll take care of the desk.”
“Oh, no. I already asked and he?—”
“Go.” She gives me a little push. “Take the returns cart and pretend to be putting books back on the shelves.”
Looking at her, I can tell there’s no point arguing more. And it’s not like I have to talk to Kallan. I can just put books on the shelf while sneaking side-looks in his direction.
Mrs. C has the return carts lined up, and it only takes a second to see which one I need to put me in the romance stacks. With a grin, I flick off the wheel locks with my foot and pull the cart away from the wall.
I love this part of my job. The quiet of the rows, the browsing of shelves looking for where each book goes. I’ve found so many interesting reads while putting returns away. I have a whole list of titles in my bag I can look at to find my next perfect read.
“Hey.”
“Argh!” Spinning around, I find Kallan standing right behind me.
How he could sneak up on me without making a sound is anyone’s guess. This might be a library where silence is generally expected but the creaky timber floors don’t allow for quiet movements.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” Which is a dumb thing to say because I kind of came looking for him, didn’t I?
The grin he gives me makes my tummy flutter. “I have a question.”
“Oh, okay. Hit me with it.”
“Lunch.”
I wait. But he doesn’t offer anything more, just keeps his eyes on mine and that sexy grin on his face. “Lunch?”
“Yes. The meal in the middle of the day.”
“What about it?”
“I’m hungry.”
“O-kay.” I’m sure there’s a question—wait. Is he asking me out?
“It’s been hours since I ate anything, and my gut is rumbling. Too loud for the library and I wondered if there was anywhere close by I can get a burger.”
“Oh. Right.” Not asking me out. “Yes. Frankie’s is only a few blocks away. They have the best burgers in Baton Rouge.”
“Great!”
When he turns and walks away, my own empty stomach drops to my toes. Definitely not asking me out.
Then again, I should have known that.
Successful guys like Kallan Larsson don’t go for down on their luck girls like me.
KALLAN
I push through the doors muttering, “Idiot, idiot, idiot,” as I step out onto the sidewalk.
Sucking in a breath of humid air, I glance back into the building behind me. I can’t see the girl. Not from where I’m standing. And no matter how hard I stare I’m not magically graced with x-ray vision.
“Dammit.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m an idiot.”
All I had to say was ‘want to have lunch with me’, except my stupid brain just kept thinking ‘God, she’s so beautiful’.
Fuck . I didn’t even get her name. Didn’t tell her mine.
Sure, she read it on my license, but that’s not the same as introducing myself.
She makes me nervous in a way I never have been. Not even when I left everything I knew behind and boarded a plane to America.
I can’t explain it. I’ve seen pretty girls—women—before. None of them left me tongue-tied though. Not like…
Shit . I need to know her name.
Spinning around, I shove through the doors with more force than necessary. Luckily, there isn’t anyone on the other side. With a smile of apology to the older woman behind the counter, I head in the direction I was before I turned into a bumbling idiot.
When I get to the right row all I see is shelves and shelves of books. No beautiful woman in sight.
Taking the center aisle, I look both ways like crossing the street as I head deeper into the building. With each step, my gut tightens a little more.
I’m almost at the point of running out of rows to search and giving up. What I assume is the back wall of the building looms in front of me and I brace for the final empty aisle between shelves when I spot who I’m looking for.
She’s halfway down on my right, running her fingers along the spines of the books in front of her, a sweet smile curling her lips. The relief of finding her—the gentle way she strokes those books—has my heart racing, gut clenching, and cock twitching.
But the last thing I need is a hard-on my running shorts have no hope of concealing, so I try to think of anything that might keep my dick in check as I move toward her.
“Hey.”
My voice is a little louder than I intended for the quiet, but it gets her attention.
Unfortunately, it isn’t a smile sent my way. It’s a squeak of surprise and a dropped book.
Rushing forward, I bend and pick up the book while saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
It seems the only thing I’m capable of being in her presence is an idiot. Between tongue tied stammering and frightening her, I’m not making the best first impression. And neither is going to help me convince her to have lunch with me.
“I’m Kallan.”
She nods, her lips barely twitching with a smile. “I know. I filled in your library card application.”
“Right. Yes. Okay.” I swallow and clear my throat, force myself to concentrate on why I’m standing in front of her. “What time is your lunch break?”
At her widened eyes and sucked in breath, I hurry to assure her I’m not a creep. Although at this point, I’m not sure she could think otherwise.
“I want to ask you to join me for that burger. At Frankie’s. The place you mentioned.”
“Oh. Um, I don’t have a lunch break today.”
“They don’t let you take a break!”
“Oh no, they do, but today I’m only working until twelve because I have an appointment this afternoon.”
“Can I take you to dinner then?”
“You want to take me to dinner?”
Her confusion has me rethinking the last few minutes. When I run through everything I’ve said, our earlier interaction, I realize I’m still fucking this up.
“Let me start again.” I hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Kallan, Kallan Larsson. I play hockey for the Baton Rouge Rogues. Or I will once the season starts.”
“You’re a Rogue?” Instead of taking my offered hand, she brings both of hers together in front of her prayer style and presses her thumbs against her chin.
I can’t tell if she thinks what I said is good or bad. I plaster on my best smile and power ahead anyway. “Yes. We start tomorrow. Training. Our first game isn’t until next month.”
“I know. My neighbor is a huge hockey fan. He’ll be so jealous I got to meet you.”
“Will he be more jealous if you have lunch or dinner with me?”
“You were serious?”
“Why would I ask if I wasn’t?”
“I guess you wouldn’t. It’s just…” Her gaze lowers but she doesn’t finish what she was going to say.
After several seconds, I can’t hold my tongue. “Just what?”
“Well, you’re a professional hockey player, and I’m just a library assistant. I don’t even have a high school diploma.”
“What does that have to do with sharing a meal with me? I’m assuming you know how to feed yourself, although I’ll be honest and tell you that’s not a deal breaker.” I grin. I’d happily spoon feed this woman.
“You want to take me out to eat? Like a date?”
I don’t know if her confusion is annoying or cute. Especially when she gets the little wrinkles above the bridge of her nose, making her freckles stand out and my lips twitch to kiss them.
But I want to be clear about my intentions. “Yes. A date. Lunch or dinner or both.”
“Today?”