Chapter 14
fourteen
LYDIA
Autumn: Any developments??
Lydia: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Autumn: Oh, come on. I thought you were going to keep your enemy close!
Lydia: No, YOU said that. I’m keeping my enemy far, far away.
Autumn: Girl…
Will and I don’t talk for five days after what happened in the mystery section.
Two of the days were the weekend when—thank god—I didn’t run into him around town, but for three days since then, he’s only been in and out of the library, and we’ve been completely cool to each other.
We barely even say hi in greeting and only flash brief, civil smiles when absolutely necessary.
We’re like awkward high schoolers, pretending to be busy when one of us walks in the room.
If Nancy’s noticed anything, she hasn’t said so.
But then again, she probably just chalks it up to the renovation.
It’s not exactly a secret that I don’t like what Will was hired to do.
But I haven’t been able to get his touch out of my head.
The way his huge hands felt around my waist, how his kiss was somehow gruff and tender at the same time.
And the other stuff… I’d be lying if I said my mind hadn’t strayed there while I was in the shower.
That I hadn’t touched myself while thinking of the way his fingers had grazed my clit.
And I hate that I’m thinking about it now while I sit behind the library desk, scanning a shit ton of books before I return them to the shelves.
I didn’t say a word to Will today when he strode through here with some engineer or other.
Hell, I barely even looked up when I saw him come in this morning.
But I did notice how good he looked when I stole a glance after he’d turned away.
His broad back, shoulders straining against his t-shirt as he points out all the wiring and electrical stuff to the guy he’s brought in.
The scruff on his chin that felt so surprisingly good when he kissed me.
Just looking at him makes me ache between my legs.
I jump as Nancy’s voice breaks into my thoughts.
“You feeling any better about the renovation? This Will Holloway’s a damned good architect, you know. He’ll do the town proud.”
I look up, glance around the faded, yet homey space around me.
It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact it’ll be changing so much in only a few short months.
While I have to admit the plans Will has drawn up for the place are pretty impressive, they’re a clear deviation from the building’s original features.
The wooden framed skylights, the elevator and automatic door at the front entrance, and the all new glass-walled computer lab are, admittedly, nice in theory—just not for Mom’s library.
This stuff is an automatic no-go for the Hawthorne Bay Historical Society.
And they’re not even keeping my fucking banister.
“Well,” I say. “I still don’t know why the board wants to move so far from the historical authenticity of the building. It’s a shame, if you ask me.”
“Oh, cheer up,” Nancy says, giving the desk next to me a playful rap. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll see. And anyway, your mother would’ve loved it. She’d have wanted it to better suit the needs of the community.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her she has no clue what my mother would have wanted, but I manage to stop myself. The only thing worse than the library not being the library anymore is the library not being the library and I’m out of my job there. I’ve got to tread carefully.
I fake a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m at least glad to know you’re keeping an open mind,” Nancy continues, beaming.
“Because I keep meaning to mention—Ethan thought it’d be a good idea to have Will help us man the fundraising booth at the fall festival.
You know, so in case anyone in town has questions about the renovation, they’ll be able to ask the architect himself.
I have to say I agree with him—I think it’ll get everyone excited. ”
A cold wave of panic rips through me. I’m more than happy to help Nancy man the library’s fundraising booth—in fact, I’ve been brainstorming ideas on how to spin our book sale—but god.
They’re seriously going to make me spend more time with this scruffy, arrogant man outside of work hours?
Will’s already taking up way more of my mental real estate than he’s entitled to—and working next to him with only Nancy as protection is not going to help matters.
I’m about to protest when someone clears their throat from across the room.
Well, speak of the devil.
Of course it’s Will. He’s leaning against the doorframe, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking as infuriatingly sexy as ever.
I stifle a groan. I hate that he has a key, that he can let himself in whenever the hell he wants. But when Nancy sees Will, her face lights up. It’s clear this guy has my boss wrapped completely around his little finger.
Goddamnit. I can’t be thinking about Will’s fingers. Not right now—not ever. Our little… incident… was a mistake I will not be allowing myself to make again.
My tone is cool as I stare him down. “Yes?”
“Am I interrupting?”
“I mean, it is the middle of the work day,” I say, breaking his gaze to flip my eyes back to the books I’m scanning.
“Nonsense,” Nancy chides, giving a nervous laugh. She casts me a warning look. “I was just telling Lydia that it’ll be the three of us working the library booth at the fall festival, which she was very excited to hear. We’ll have a ball, I’m sure!”
Even across the room, I see Will’s blue eyes twinkle, and ugh—this asshole just winked at me.
I don’t even bother to refute Nancy’s version of events because what good would that do?
The lazy grin Will’s wearing as he walks toward us tells me he already knows I am not excited about the news Nancy just dropped on me.
“Definitely,” Will agrees. He runs a huge hand through his tousled hair, and I have to look down. I’m suddenly remembering how his honey-blond locks fell into his eyes as he thrust his fingers into me just a room away from here.
“Anyway,” Nancy says, her glow returning. “What can we help you with?”
I can feel Will’s eyes still on me as he steps forward, but I keep my own fixed on the barcode of the Stephen King book I’m scanning. Beep.
“Well, I’ve got something to show Lydia, actually, but if she’s too busy I can find a different time…”
“Oh, don’t be silly!” Nancy swipes my stack of books toward her and gives me a little shove. “I’ll take over here, Lydia.”
With no excuse left, I rise from my chair and stalk out from behind the desk. I avoid Will’s gaze even as I approach him, making sure not to come too close. The last thing I want to do is let myself start thinking about that solid fucking chest of his.
“What do you need?” I ask, keeping my tone as even as possible.
Will gives a low chuckle, like it’s exactly the reaction he expected from me. He tips his head toward the doorway, and I follow him out to the foyer, arms crossed tightly over my chest.
“Thought it might be easier to envision out here,” he says, slipping his phone from his pocket.
“Envision what? The gutting you’re planning for this poor old building?”
“Jesus, woman. Can you give it a rest?”
“Wow, you’re a charmer.”
Will gives me a hard look but ignores me, his eyes softening again as he swipes through his phone.
He shakes his head, thrusts the phone toward me.
“Here. It’s probably hard to see on this tiny screen but I tried to do it justice.
It wasn’t in the original plans, but I managed to get it cleared with everyone on the board… ”
I frown, but I’m curious now, so I take the phone. It takes me a minute to figure out what I’m seeing, but when I do, I stop short, my breath catching in my throat.
Because there, on the screen of Will’s phone, is my banister.
Peering at the screen, I zoom in to see the rendering in detail, my eyes flicking between the current real-life foyer and the one that Will’s envisioned.
The automatic door is still there, as is the elevator shaft and the paneling along the walls.
But I’m shocked to see the way he’s managed to tie them in with the design, making the majestic staircase and the original banister—the one I loved so much as a child—the center of the foyer.
In Will’s rendering, the banister is polished and shiny, stained a deep, rustic cherry color that makes it come alive.
The decorative carvings that spiral up and down the railings are sharp and clear—a far cry to the state of the banister now, with all its chips and divots.
He’s taken a beat-up piece of history and breathed new life into it.
I look up at Will, a little awestruck. I gesture to the phone. “You’re… going to do this?”
Will nods. For a split second, I think I see something in his gaze. Something almost searching. But then he speaks, and I lose sight of it. “Yeah. You like it? Does it pass the Lydia test?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say. Because it is.
“Is it… how you remember it? From when you were a kid?”
There’s that searching again, only in his voice this time. I nod, bringing my eyes to his. It’s the most words we’ve spoken to each other since last Thursday.
“Definitely. Only better, honestly. It looks… gorgeous.”
He flashes me a grin that makes my knees weak. “Good.”
We’re quiet a moment, both staring at the phone screen.
I’m not sure what else to say. As thankful as I am, as impressed as I am with the rendering, it’s only a small piece of the building.
Preservation of a banister does not a historical landmark make.
But it’s something—and right now, something is all I need. It means there’s hope.
Will’s voice breaks into the silence. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
I look up at him to see him watching me closely. “Sure.”
“I don’t know exactly how to word this, but… what’s your deal with this place? Why are you so desperate to keep it the way it is?”
I sigh. Then I take a deep breath and tell him something I’ve never told anyone except Autumn. Because no one’s ever bothered to ask.
“My mom died of cancer when I was ten. My dad… he couldn’t take it.
He sort of checked out, left me to fend for myself.
He was there, I guess, like physically there, but mentally…
emotionally…” I trail off because it sucks thinking about it.
“I used to come here every day. While my dad was drunk in front of the TV, or at the bar or whatever, I came here to feel safe. And to feel close to my mom. She used to be the librarian here, and she and the building and all my memories of being loved are kind of… wrapped up together.”
Will looks through the big front window, out at the street. Mounds of crisp, orange leaves litter the sidewalks, and he stands, studying them. He doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“I kind of always hoped… I don’t know, that I’d feel her somehow. That she’d send me some kind of message. I know that probably sounds stupid.”
He looks at me sharply. “It doesn’t sound stupid.”
“No?”
“No.”
I sigh. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve hung around here all these years—hell, even became the assistant librarian—and nothing. I’m probably just crazy.”
Will gives a weird sort of chuckle. “I doubt that.”
In this moment, with him standing there in the middle of the mid-afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, I have the sudden thought that the only thing I feel truly crazy about is him. I push the thought down.
It’s only a thought, after all. It doesn’t mean it’s real.
“I’m still holding out hope I’ll see her—feel her?—one last time. But once this place is renovated…” I trail off, shrugging. “It won’t be the same place. I don’t think she’ll be here.”
Will is looking at me strangely, with an expression I can’t read. He’s probably listening to me talk, essentially drone on about ghosts or spirits or whatever you want to call it, and thinking to himself what an idiot I am.
Even I think I sound idiotic, saying this stuff out loud. I need to learn when to shut it. It’s clear I haven’t been able to grieve my mom properly.
Will clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts.
“Well, I don’t know about any of that, but I’m happy to keep you in the loop regarding the plans and design.
As you know, we’ve got a lot of the stuff already nailed down, but if there are any small, yet meaningful alterations I can make—like this one, keeping in that banister—feel free to let me know. ”
I raise my eyebrows. “Does Ethan Wilde know about this offer?”
Will gives a harsh laugh. “Don’t push your luck, Chandler. Give me your phone.”
I don’t even know what to think anymore, so I hand over my phone and watch as Will saves his number to my contacts. When he passes my phone back to me, I feel the brush of his rough fingers against mine and my stomach flutters.
“I’ll see you around,” Will says.
As he gives me a nod and heads out the door, I turn and walk numbly back to my desk. I don’t know what any of that just was, but my stomach’s light and jumpy, and I realize suddenly that I’m not mad about it. I’m not mad about it at all.