Zelda
My phone buzzes from where I stuffed it in the top drawer of the circulation desk. I scramble to pull it out and silence it, whipping my head around in a panic to see if Mrs. Sanders is anywhere nearby to notice.
She’s not, and my heart rate settles back down.
Then it speeds up again, because I catch a glimpse of Sawyer’s name on the screen.
It started almost as soon as I got home. It was like his number was burning a hole in my pocket.
Mitchell is a pretty cute last name
Cute???
His reply didn’t seem much like what I’d expect from the hard, confident man I met at the club.
It was much closer to what I started to think of as the daylight version of Sawyer—the version that walked with me to the diner and who flirted with me, his sexy smile on full display.
There’s definitely more to him than what meets the eye.
I mean…sexy.
I had to take in a deep breath before I sent that text, because even though things got heated at the diner, texts seem more…official. There’s a record of those.
There’s more where that came from.
This text, which I’m reading right now at the risk of seriously irritating Mrs. Sanders if she sees me doing it, is the kind of text Sawyer sends early on in the day, when the sexual tension hasn’t had a chance to stretch out tight between us, like a rubber band.
I squeeze my thighs together under the desk.
That ache never lets up.
How’s work, sunshine?
“Sunshine” brings a little smile to my face. He doesn’t say it all the time, but when he does, it spreads warmth through my chest. It’s the kind of thing I can imagine my husband saying to me one day.
But—God. It’s way too early for that. And Sawyer’s life…
I shake my head and let myself enjoy the text.
It would be better if you were here
I’ve been sitting at the circulation desk every day all week thinking of Sawyer. Remembering us together in the diner. Wishing I’d gone home with him instead of retreating to my parents’ house and telling my mother that I was back, that there was nothing to worry about.
You don’t mean that.
Of course I want him to be here, but if he was to actually walk in the door, I don’t know what I’d—
I send a winking face, double check that the phone is really on silent this time, and slip it back into the desk drawer, smiling to myself.
“Nice desk.”
At the sound of his voice, my jaw drops open and my heart hammers against my rib cage so hard I have to put a hand to my chest.
“Oh, my God.” My voice comes out a little too loud, echoing through the hallway, and I cover my mouth with my hand. If Mrs. Sanders is up on the second floor, it will be an actual miracle.
Sawyer laughs, his eyebrows raised. “Isn’t this an improvement?”
He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which would be boring except the clothing is gracing his perfect frame, and so it’s the most gorgeous t-shirt and jeans I’ve ever seen.
“Yes.”
He leans his elbows on the desk, peering over at me, and his smile sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine that can’t quite replace the rising nervousness in my chest.
“Didn’t you say it would be better if I was here?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Now I’m here.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “The library isn’t across the street from my house.”
“I might have already been on my way.”
“And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell me?”
“What, and ruin the surprise?” He laughs again, eyes fixated on my face, and he straightens up to his full height. “Hey, do you get a break?”
“A break?”
“Yes, a break. When you stop doing your job for a little bit in the middle of a shift, take a few minutes for yourself, and then come back afterward.”
I give him a look. “I have breaks.”
“Take one right now.”
“Well, I have to—” What I should do is hunt down Mrs. Sanders, wherever she is, and beg her permission to go on a fifteen-minute break.
But the dancing light in Sawyer’s eyes makes me feel like I can do anything.
And the way he’s so solid, so strong, makes me think I’d be safe if I did. “Give me a second.”
I stand up and put out the little sign we keep under the desk that reads, “Back shortly!” Then I step back into one of the library’s many workrooms. A woman named Donna, who’s been here almost as long as Mrs. Sanders, is squinting at a computer screen.
She’s probably in the middle of writing up next month’s newsletter.
“Hey, Donna.”
She smiles up at me. “Zelda. How’s the desk?”
“Quiet. Would you mind covering it for a few minutes while I go on break?”
“Sure thing.” She stands up from her place at the computer and stretches. “I could use a little change of scenery.”
She follows me back out to circulation, then catches a glimpse of Sawyer, who’s gone back over toward the entrance.
Her eyebrows go up, but then a little smile comes across her face.
“He’s certainly not a regular.” I blush in spite of myself, and Donna notices it, her mouth opening in delight. “Is he here for you?”
“He did come to see me, yeah.”
Donna reaches out a hand and gives me an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Well, hustle out of here, Zelda—before Mrs. Sanders comes downstairs.” Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she takes her seat behind the circulation desk, giving me a little thumbs up.
I roll my eyes at her, but I can’t hide the grin on my face.
At the entrance, Sawyer waits for me to catch up, then gives Donna a little wave. She gives him one right back. There’s a sweetness to the gesture that I didn’t expect out of him, and he seems to realize it, because he puts his hand into his pocket and shrugs a little.
“You ready to go?”
I’ll never be able to wipe the smile off my face at this rate. “More than ready.”