Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Hazel plugged in her phone. She plugged in Lynx’s next, and then rested it on the counter next to Stanley’s terrarium. “It’s barely noon. How is your phone dead already?”
“I forgot to plug it in last night.” He shrugged off his leather jacket and let it slide from his shoulders. She’d noticed his build before, but now, without the jacket, she had a full view of the muscles in his arms testing the confines of a soft-looking ivory sweater.
He ran a hand through his hair, which made it more messy.
It suited him, the careless style. That seemed to fit what she thought about him.
He’d been careless to come out for coffee in this storm.
But she caught herself on that thought, reminding herself that careless was exactly what she’d been, regardless of her good intentions.
Still, her fingers twitched from the desire to touch his sweater and test the softness, or run her hand through his hair and see if there was any product in it.
Preferably while kissing his mouth.
She shook the visual out of her head…which took some doing.
Get a grip, Hazel.
She was the least guy-crazy of her friends and coworkers. Hazel rarely noticed them in real life. Her appreciation for the male form had been snuggled safely between the covers of romance novels—where the men were always worth the effort.
She hadn’t yet found one living beyond the pages of a novel that had been worth her time. She could thank her grandmother for passing down her sensibility. Most of the guys in her age bracket were not sensible.
Which brought her to this guy in particular.
Lynx wandered over to the children’s section and sat on a red chair that was way too small for him. His knees were splayed, his elbows resting on them. The plastic gave a protesting crack, but held his weight.
By her estimations, he wasn’t very sensible either. He’d put himself in harm’s way to see her safely here. He had done all the right things, and there was a charming edge to him.
A shiver tracked up her spine, skittering over her arms and setting off her sensitive nipples again. Was it hot in here, or was that just him? She wrestled out of her sweater and smoothed her curly hair that was already fuzzy with static electricity. Her floral blouse was definitely cooler.
Lynx slipped a book out of its slot on the shelf. He held it up to show her. “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I grew up reading this book.”
“I’m more of a Curious George girl, myself.” She paced in his direction.
He looked over his shoulder. “So you like tortoises and monkeys. Exotic.”
She sat on a small blue chair next to him. A seat she was accustomed to taking whenever she read books to the kids at story time. “I read that one to the kids a lot, though. They love it.”
“It’s a classic.” This close, she could see that his eyes were golden brown—pretty, if a guy’s eyes could be considered pretty.
She tipped a book out of place and back in again. “You’re the first person to ever say I was exotic.”
His golden eyes studied her face, lingering on her mouth for a beat. “I believe it.”
She chuffed, halfway offended but not understanding why at first. Until it dawned on her that it was because so many people presumed to know her. But few did. “I’m not a stereotypical librarian you know. I’m not shy or introverted.”
“But you’re smart.”
“I don’t wear glasses or have my hair in a bun.”
“I like your hair.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t been quite finished setting him straight, though. “Whatever assumptions you’re making about me, you might not be right. So just be careful which adjectives you use to describe me.”
His eyebrows met over his nose. “What’s an adjective?”
“It’s a—” She sighed when he flashed a quick grin. “You’re teasing me.”
“Just a joke, Stacks.”
“Stacks?”
“Well, you didn’t like darlin’.” He gestured around the library. “You’re in charge of all these stacks of books. One might say you’re taming them.”
“The taming of the Stacks,” she muttered.
“Don’t make it like I was calling you a shrew.”
And now he’d proven to her he knew his Shakespeare. She really couldn’t figure him out.
“What did I say that put you on the defensive?” he asked. “Or was it that I wouldn’t let you bobsled home?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m seriously asking.”
“Okay. When Elliott told you I was a librarian, you said ‘no shit,’ which implies that you had an idea of what a librarian should be, and I wasn’t it.”
“You do swear. I was wondering.”
“See? You think a librarian shouldn’t swear! She should be old, quiet, shy, wear glasses and a bun…”
“When I said ‘no shit’ I was shocked because I’d never met a hot librarian before. I wasn’t making assumptions about whether or not you were shy. Which you’re not. Or quiet for that matter.”
She playfully shoved his arm, which was like touching a brick wall. “Whoa. You smuggling rocks in there?”
He grinned. Then he flexed. “Maybe. Want another feel to be sure?”
Never one to back down from a challenge, she wrapped her hand around his upper arm and squeezed. Firm, with the right amount of give, he didn’t feel like rocks or a brick wall. His arms felt strong. Safe, even. Which was an odd thing to think since she’d just met him.
“Where’d you get those guns?” she asked.
“I did a 60-day challenge with a guy at my old job. At the end, I outlifted him. But the habit stuck.”
“What did you use to do?”
“I was an auto mechanic. Do you have any presumptions about mechanics?” He answered for her. “Lazy? Dumb? Bad news for a shy, quiet librarian?”
She leaned in slightly. “Good thing I’m not the shy, quiet type.”
“Good thing.” The low rumble of his voice paired with him leaning a scant bit closer. The air between them held a charge. The room dimmed and brightened…
Wait.
The room was literally dimming and brightening. They both tipped their heads toward the ceiling.
“That’s not good,” he said.
“No, it’s really not.”
And on that note, the room plunged into darkness.
“Ant jinxed us,” Lynx said. Hazel, who had reached for him in the dark, held onto his arm. They both stood. “He was the one who brought up a generator.”
“He helped me restart it last week. My grandpa wasn’t able to get it going.”
“Your grandpa—the maintenance guy.”
“Yes. I can find my way to the countertop. I’ll grab my phone so that we have some light.”
“I’ll come with you.” He put his hand over hers. “Keep you safe.”
“My hero.” She blew out a short laugh. He liked making her laugh. She smelled like vanilla lotion and peppermint lip balm. He buried the urge to touch his mouth to hers and find out if she tasted that way too.
“Never been accused of being a hero before,” he said.
They paced through the darkness until they arrived at Stanley’s dark terrarium. Once she had her phone in hand and the flashlight app was lighting the way, she angled for the back wall. “The generator’s in the basement, so…”
“I got it.”
“How handy to be snowed in with a mechanic.” The harsh glow from her phone highlighted her cheekbones.
“Well, it’s no car, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“So can I. I have Google. And YouTube Premium. How hard can it be?”
“You can call your maintenance-man grandfather.”
“And tell him I’m stranded in the library with a handsome stranger? Oh, he’d love that. He’d also try and come out and save me, but we already have two other men on that task. I don’t think my grandpa needs to risk his hip on my account.”
A smile curled Lynx’s mouth while she talked. So she thought he was handsome, huh? He would try not to gloat.
“I’m sure it’s as easy as flipping a switch anyway.” She opened the door to a yawning staircase that descended into blackness.
“Being a comic book guy, this is where I inform you that the hero goes into the dark scary basement first.”
She laughed, a real laugh this time. It was husky, sexy rather than cute, which was a little surprising. Maybe he did have a stereotype in mind when it came to librarians.
“You’re sweet, but I’ve walked down here more than you. I wouldn’t want to endanger your hips either.”
“My hips are in working order,” he muttered. He couldn’t decide if he should feel offended or flattered by the “sweet” comment.
He stepped down the stairs behind her, careful to hold onto the railing.
The treads on his boots—and probably hers—were still wet from the melted snow clinging to them.
The last thing he needed was to slip and fall, which not only would be embarrassing but also might endanger her as well.
The air grew colder as they descended into the darkness.
Her phone beam angled across a room filled with shelves of books, banker’s boxes holding who knew what, old file cabinets, and finally, the generator.
He stepped in front of her. “Hold that light steady for me, will you?”
“Excuse me? I have this.”
He smirked. “No, I have this. Mechanic, remember? Plus Ant told me to fix it.”
“Do you always do what Ant tells you to do?” she asked, but she held the light for him like he’d asked.
He flipped a switch on the generator. Turned a knob. Fiddled with a few other things. “What the hell…?”
“Let me know when you’re ready for me to tell you what’s wrong.”
He spared her a glance before going back to tinkering. “I’ve got it.” After a few more failed attempts he dropped his arms at his sides. “Fine. What’s the problem, in your professional librarian opinion?”
“You’re insulting me.” She folded her arms, the flashlight pointed at her boots.
He reached for her phone, and shined it on his serious expression. “I’m not trying to insult you. I was trying to make you laugh.”
Her lips quirked to one side. Yeah, if she let him, he was totally going to kiss her before the night was over.
“Let’s hear it, Stacks.” He aimed the light at the generator. “What’s the problem?”
She steered his hand, illuminating the breaker box with the phone’s light. “We blew a fuse.” She tugged the handle but it wouldn’t open. “Locked. We’ll have to find the key, which is probably in Marge’s desk drawer. Hopefully there are replacement fuses in there too. Follow me.”
She turned and started upstairs. He followed, keeping the light shining on the steps in front of her so that she could see. He kept his attention not on her feet, but her round, sweetheart of an ass just a few feet from him.
She paused and peered over her shoulder and he redirected his attention to her face. To his surprise, she wasn’t frowning. Her lips flinched into a small smile and then she continued her way upstairs.
With a little more wiggle than before.