Chapter 21
Of course Tai loves Tolkien. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone loves Tolkien.
Except Hayley, the possible Tolkien virgin who I can’t persuade into taking over this discussion because she claims she has no idea who Legolas or Aragorn are, much less Frodo or Samwise Gamgee.
Not that I want her to take over, necessarily, because I have a plan—or had a plan may be more apt.
Not sure if I should still go through with it, as I hadn’t expected an audience who was privy to what I was up to.
My immediate reaction on hearing Tai would be in attendance was a flush of pleasure and swell of anticipation.
Which is a very dangerous response for my heart to have, and one I cannot under any circumstances allow myself to entertain.
Because of that, I shove my unwanted delight down to the ground like a school bus bully and invite the secondary emotion simmering beneath the surface to take its spot.
Annoyance.
I resist the urge to stomp across the carpeted entry of the library toward the side room we use for community events like the monthly book club meeting.
Tai Davis is becoming a thorn in my side.
A fly in my coffee. A pain in my . . . well, you know where.
I need to forget about his grin that momentarily makes my head spin, causing all logic to spill out of my ear.
At the moment, I need every single ounce of good sense I can hold on to.
It’s the only thing keeping me safe from a soul-crushing repeat of humiliation from tangoing with love.
I square my shoulders, resolved to do a better job of resisting his attention. He can keep his wolfish smiles. I’m not going to become a victim like Little Red Riding Hood. There will be no eating me up.
I can’t demand he leave, as this is a public community event.
And loving Tolkien or not, there’s no way I think he’s here because he wants to debate whether Galadriel and Gandalf were ever romantically involved or whether Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings trilogy as an allegory.
In the six months that I’ve worked here, he’s never once come to a single community event the library has hosted.
In fact, I’d not seen him step foot in the library before Hayley’s dare.
I’d been nothing but a joke to pass the time then, and it would be good for me to remember that his motives are likely the same now—I’m but a game for him to play.
As if sensing my presence in the doorway behind him, Tai pivots and faces me, his eyes lighting when he sees me.
I plant my feet and set my chin. I will not be sweet-talked into lowering my defenses again. Although maybe that’s my problem. I’m always the one playing defense when it comes to Tai. Maybe I should try offense for once.
I sweep into the room as if I couldn’t care less that Tai is here. As if his presence hasn’t knocked me off-kilter or made me reconsider my primary objective for today’s book club. I’m not going to change my plans. I’m going to double down. Two for one.
Once I’d gotten over the disappointment of this morning’s meet-cute not working out like I’d hoped it would, I’d realized the day didn’t have to be a total matchmaking loss. The perfect opportunity for seeds of love to be planted had already been prearranged for me.
I can picture it clearly. Two kindred spirits bonding over their love of Middle Earth. The obsession of a ring will bring them together in this room, and a ring on each of their fingers as they say “I do” will keep them together for eternity.
Which leads to another interesting possibility. I don’t know why I’d never thought to matchmake Tai before, but I’m definitely thinking it now.
I steel myself against the ache of loss that shoots from my belly and radiates down my limbs.
It isn’t the idea of losing Tai’s attention and watching him turn his flirtations on someone else that has me reacting so intensely, although I fully admit that having his intense gaze rest on me as a man interested in a woman has been a bit of a balm to my soul.
But it’s not real. It’s not based on truth.
And neither is the empty feeling currently residing in the pit of my stomach.
It’s merely the aftershocks of grief. Of once again losing the idea of the possibility of love itself.
Tai’s waning interest is bound to happen eventually anyway.
Might as well happen on my terms and on my timetable.
Might as well happen today. Here. Now.
“I didn’t expect to see you at book club,” I say as cordially as possible.
I’ve never been very good at keeping my feelings off my face and developing the neutral expression Granny insists genteel Southern ladies should possess.
Whatever thin facade I’m able to project, I don’t doubt he can see right through it.
Tai faces me, a thick book in his hands. A smirk hovers over his lips, but he doesn’t allow it to settle. The spark of amusement in his eyes, however, he’s less successful in hiding.
“Why not? I hope you aren’t making assumptions about me again, Miss Marion?”
Every time he calls me Miss Marion, the song “Ya Got Trouble” from The Music Man pops into my head. I’ve got trouble with a capital T, and that stands for Tai Davis.
I cross my arms over my chest before I remind myself I’m no longer on the defense and drop them to my sides. “I wouldn’t dream to.”
He chuckles under his breath. “No, of course not.” After setting the book on the waist-high counter along the wall, he opens his hands and makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Can I help you set up?”
We spend the next few minutes unfolding chairs and placing them in a circle. I’m not sure how many people are going to attend, but we usually have about six or seven who like to get together to discuss the book of the month.
As soon as I set out the last chair, patrons begin to arrive.
“Welcome, I’m so glad you could make it.
” I greet each person with a warm smile.
I’m not naturally an outgoing person and often have difficulty with small talk, but if the subject is books, then I’m like an imbiber who’s had one too many drinks, and it’s often hard to get me to shut up.
“There’s tea and coffee over there, so help yourselves. We’ll begin in just a little bit.”
I wait a few minutes after the designated start time to make sure everyone who’d wanted to participate has arrived.
From my perch near the door, I watch the interactions of the others.
Three people hover near the Keurig, selecting teas and talking about the weather.
I recognize Ken from last month’s book club when we discussed Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark T.
Sullivan. He said he’d be back, and I’m glad to see it’s true.
The other man I haven’t seen before, but the woman looks vaguely familiar.
I don’t think she’s ever previously participated in book club, but I’ve more than likely seen her around the library.
Ken and the other man are probably old enough to be my father, and the woman could pass as my older sister.
Could a match be made among the trio? Perhaps a May/December age gap romance?
I’ll have to get a look at their ring fingers to make sure there aren’t any wedding bands.
Besides them, Carla is here. She’s in her scrubs, which means she just got off a shift at the hospital in the next town over.
She’s sitting by herself, as always, a thatch of dark hair falling out of the bun at the nape of her neck and tickling her cheek as she looks down at the open book on her lap.
She doesn’t usually get to finish reading the books before club discussions since she works such long hours, but she’s never missed a meeting.
Tai takes up residence along the opposite wall. His feet are braced shoulder-width apart, and he has his hands shoved into the front pockets of his faded jeans, his head turned to the side, giving me a perfect view of the rose on his neck.
Trouble with a capital T all right.
I tear my gaze away and swallow the thickness that has suddenly lodged in my throat.
Number one on my matchmaking checklist for Tai: Find a girl who is mesmerized by tattoos. Shouldn’t be too hard, as his body art has a hypnotic quality to it.
“Sorry I’m late!” A woman in her late twenties with long brown hair breezes past me, leaving a trail of caramelized apple scent in her wake.
I remember Bella Johnson for two main reasons. One, her personality is as effervescent as an Alka-Seltzer tablet. It just bubbles and bubbles. Two, the cascade of thick waves that fall to the small of her back make my insides twist with unchristian-like envy.
She’s the epitome of a classic fictional heroine, the well in which romance authors plunge for inspiration. She has the bright smile that lights up a room and hair the hero can’t wait to run his fingers through.
I glance between her and Tai. The bad boy and the good girl. A pairing romance readers go gaga over.
Bella dumps an oversized purse on the floor by one of the chairs, then shrugs out of her jacket. It’s as if a spotlight is bathing her in an aura of light. She’s the star; we, her spectators.
“Did I miss anything?”
“No, we haven’t started yet,” I assure her.
She gives me a bright smile. “Perfect. Do you mind waiting a couple more minutes? My brother is on his way.”
“No problem. Help yourself to some tea or coffee.”
She spins back around and glances toward the trio loitering near the hot beverage supplies.
Her quick look is like a defibrillator on their conversation, starting it back up.
Instead of getting herself a cup of tea, she leans over and riffles through her large purse, straightening with a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring in her hand.
She places it on her seat, looks up, and seems to notice Tai for the first time.
She’s in profile, but that doesn’t eclipse the brilliance of the smile that just lit up her face.
With the confidence of a leading lady, she struts over to Tai and offers him her hand. “Hi, I’m Bella. I don’t think we’ve met before.”
It’s like the cells in my body collectively shush one another. My whole body strains to hear the exchange about to happen. It’s one of those defining moments. Whatever happens in the next few minutes between Tai and Bella is going to affect more than just a simple conversation.
“Tai.” He shakes her hand but doesn’t linger.
Why doesn’t he linger? All the men in books linger more than propriety dictates when offered an opportunity to touch the heroine.
Helping her alight from a carriage, assisting her off a horse, steering her in the right direction.
Instead, Tai drops her fingers as soon as possible and shoves his hand back inside his pocket.
Bella pulls her thick, luscious hair over one shoulder. “Wait, are you the guy who owns the tattoo shop on the other side of town?”
“Guilty.”
“I’ve been meaning to stop by. I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo right here on my shoulder.
” She turns slightly to present him the slope of her shoulder, then tugs on the sleeve of her shirt, exposing a column of creamy skin.
She looks at him through her eyelashes in a way that has bewitched men since the beginning of time.
Tai might as well be made of stone. He doesn’t so much as twitch a muscle. “Call the shop to set up an appointment and we’ll see what we can work out.”
What in the world is going on right now? Bella looks as confused as I feel as she lets the collar of her shirt slip back over her clavicle.
Tai isn’t being rude, but he’s also not being . . . well, Tai. Where are the weighty, suggestive looks? The flirty turn of phrases? The rogue-like behavior? Bella isn’t exactly being subtle in showing her interest, but instead of lapping up her feminine wiles, he looks . . . bored.
He glances over her shoulder as if searching for something.
When our gazes collide, the intensity in his grips me like it has fingers to hold me in place.
It wasn’t a what but a who he was looking for.
He has the personification of femininity and every man’s dreams standing in front of him, and he looked around her to find . . .
Me?