Wooing the Librarian (Forestville Silver Foxes #5)

Chapter 1

PASCAL

Wednesday afternoons were my favorite in the library.

I watched from my half-hidden spot behind some bookcases as Stanton Kohler read the wonderful The Pengrooms to a group of enraptured kindergartners. That in itself was a cause for celebration as much as admiration since that age group was notoriously hard to entertain.

But, oh man, that voice. The warm, rich baritone read so perfectly, making up unique voices for each character. Seriously, this man could read the phone book and I would listen.

And watch because he was darn easy on the eyes.

The way his blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled made my heart flip, and his silver-streaked dark beard was perfectly trimmed, begging to be touched.

He moved with an effortless grace that belied his tall frame, and the way his velvet jacket stretched across his broad shoulders should’ve been illegal.

Every Wednesday, when he came in to read to the kids, I had a hard time focusing on anything else. Instead, I stole glances at him, admiring how his hands moved expressively while he told stories or how his whole face lit up when a child responded to the story.

I adjusted my glasses and pretended to reorganize the nearby shelf while sneaking peeks at him through the rows of books. The kids sat cross-legged on their colorful cushions, utterly mesmerized. Same, kids. Same.

My heart did a little flutter when he looked up and caught my eye, those laugh lines crinkling as he gave me a quick wink before returning to the story. I nearly dropped the book I was holding. I hadn’t even realized he was aware of my presence.

So far, we hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if he was interested in men. The Pride flag flying from his farmhouse was cause for hope, as was the Love is Love sticker on his truck, but for all I knew, he could just be an ally.

I still had to ask him. No, not for a date. Heck no. As attractive as he was, I would never ask a man out if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was into men. And into men like me.

I didn’t want to label myself as an acquired taste, but I was too obviously gay for some guys. They liked my body type—I was small and slender—but not the rest of me. Not the flamboyance and definitely not the chronic illness that came with complications.

Their loss. I’d learned to love myself the way I was a long time ago, and one day, I would meet the man who could appreciate me in the way I deserved.

But that had nothing to do with Stanton Kohler, of course. Because it would be silly to even entertain the idea of anything with him when I didn’t even know if he was into men. Totally silly.

No, I had something else to ask him, and I took his rainbow-patterned socks as a good omen he would say yes.

His book choice was amazing too. I loved The Pengrooms, both the story and the wonderful drawings.

Hard to believe they were done by a man who was legally blind.

I was an avid fan of him and his husband and their hilarious and sometimes heartbreaking social media videos.

The story wrapped up, and the kids crowded around Stanton, chattering excitedly. He answered each one with genuine interest, that warm voice somehow both gentle and strong. The kids all came to him for high-fives and hugs before their parents collected them.

Some of the moms hung back, batting their eyes at Stanton, who responded with friendliness but nothing more.

Points for him. It took a strong man to resist Melanie Lyons, who was five-foot-five, cute, blond, and perky with a pair of boobs even I could appreciate.

She was also recently divorced and, if the rumors were correct, hunting for a new man.

Mr. Dowdell, my eighty-one-year-old landlord, was always well-informed thanks to the ladies he played Bingo with every week, so I trusted his intel on Melanie. But while friendly, Stanton clearly kept his distance from her, despite some rather blatant flirting. Didn’t the woman have any pride?

Finally, they all left, including Melanie and her daughter.

One could only hope the kid would grow up to have more sense than her mom.

Stanton breathed an audible sigh of what I interpreted as relief, then headed my way.

My stomach did a little flip as he approached the desk where I was pretending to be very busy with the return cart.

“Great turnout today,” he said, that rich voice even more appealing up close.

I nodded, probably a bit too enthusiastically. “They love you. I’ve never seen Jimmy sit still for that long, and he’s our resident wiggle worm.”

Stanton chuckled, the sound warming me from the inside out. “The secret is doing all the voices. Gets them every time.”

“You’re a great reader.”

“You’re pretty good yourself.”

Taken aback, I almost tripped over my own feet. “You’ve heard me read?”

He nodded. “The first week I volunteered, I stayed after my part and watched you read to the first and second graders, hoping to pick up some tips. You were amazing.”

My cheeks grew so hot I feared spontaneous combustion. “Thank you. I love reading to kids. It’s how my mom made me fall in love with books. She taught third grade and always read to me and my sister. Both of us are still big readers. Well, I guess that’s obvious for me since I became a librarian.”

Oh my word, I needed to stop talking before I word-vomited all over him. I tended to prattle when I was nervous.

But Stanton’s smile held no frustration or judgment. “Both my parents are big readers too, but I’m the only one who inherited their love for books. Both my brothers are more doers and prefer to learn things hands-on than from a book.”

I chuckled. “I’m the type that reads the whole manual front to back before even turning any new appliance or device on, even a car.”

He seemed to consider that. “It depends. If it’s something complicated and new, then yeah, I will make sure I know what I’m doing. But I don’t need a manual for, say, a hard disk or an iron. I’m pretty confident I know how those work.”

I pushed my glasses back up my nose. “I’ve learned a lot from working my way through all the manuals for my MacBook. I’ve discovered shortcuts I had no idea existed.”

“Let me guess, you’re the kind of person who reads instruction manuals for fun?” His eyes twinkled with amusement rather than mockery.

“Guilty as charged. I even read the terms and conditions before clicking Agree.” I leaned against the desk, feeling surprisingly at ease. “My sister says I’m the only person in the world who does that.”

“Your sister sounds like she keeps you grounded.”

“Chantelle? Oh yeah. She’s a nurse in Montana, and she has absolutely no filter. Calls things exactly as she sees them.” The thought of my outspoken sister made me smile. We were polar opposites, but we loved each other for it. “What about you? You said you had two brothers?”

“Yup, two younger brothers. One’s a firefighter in San Francisco, the other’s a cop in Seattle.” Pride colored Stanton’s voice. “They’re both way more athletic than I ever was. I was always the bookworm.”

“Nothing wrong with being a bookworm.” I gestured around the library. “Look where it got me.”

His warm laugh sent pleasant shivers down my spine. “True. Though I ended up being a reporter before…” He hesitated. “…before making some life changes.”

The way he trailed off made me curious, but I didn’t want to pry. Instead, I said, “A reporter? That must’ve been exciting.”

“It had its moments. Mostly, it involved a lot of coffee and tight deadlines.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of which, I have to go. I have an appointment in half an hour. Meeting with a contractor.”

That meant I needed to get to the point. “Actually…” I fiddled with my glasses, a nervous habit I’d never managed to break. “I was hoping to ask you a quick question? Well, not quick, as in I expect you to answer right away. You can think about it, of course.”

He leaned casually against the desk, and sweet heavens, how did he make that look so effortlessly attractive? “I’m all ears, Pascal.”

My heart did a little skip at hearing him say my name.

Focus, I told myself sternly. This was about the teens, not about my silly crush.

“I run this program on Thursday nights called Safe Space. It’s aimed at LGBTQ+ teens and allies, so they don’t need to be out to attend.

It’s gotten pretty popular, and I could really use some help. ”

“Yeah?” His eyes brightened with interest.

“We do crafts, talk about books, hang out. It’s meant to be a space where they can be themselves without judgment.

” I grabbed a flyer from the stack on my desk, though my hands shook slightly.

“The thing is, we’ve grown from five kids to fifteen over the last two months, and I could really use another adult volunteer. ”

“And you thought of me?” The corners of his mouth curved up.

“Well, you’re great with the kids, and I noticed your rainbow flag and the sticker on your truck…” I trailed off, suddenly worried I’d made assumptions I shouldn’t have.

“I’m bi,” Stanton said without hesitation, and my heart did a happy little dance. “And I’d love to help.”

“Really?” The word came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

He nodded, taking the flyer from my hands. Our fingers brushed, and I could’ve sworn I felt a spark. “What time on Thursday?”

“Seven to nine.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “The teens will love you. And it’ll be nice to have another adult to bounce ideas off of.”

“Looking forward to it.” He folded the flyer and slipped it into his back pocket. “See you tomorrow then?”

“You’ll be there tomorrow?” It came out in an embarrassing squeak.

He frowned, looking slightly confused. “You said it was on Thursday.”

“Yeah, but…” I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t sure if you were immediately available. On such short notice, I mean. You could’ve had other plans.”

Like a date with his boyfriend or girlfriend—but thank goodness, I kept that part to myself.

“Ah, gotcha. Nope, I’m available and happy to help.”

I nodded, probably looking like one of those bobblehead dolls. “Thank you so much.”

He gave me another one of those knee-weakening smiles before heading out, and I watched him go, admiring the view. I caught myself and quickly looked away. But now that I knew he was bi…

No. Nope, not going there.

I was doing this for the teens, not for me. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Even if a thousand butterflies took wing in my stomach at the thought of spending two hours with Stanton tomorrow.