Chapter 6
SIX
“You want me to go?” he asked, the question low and hoarse.
His stricken features almost made her weep, but dozens of feelings battled for dominance. Because no, a huge part of her didn’t want him to go. Especially not when he looked so devastatingly handsome—all rugged and wild after their frantic coupling. His torso glistened with perspiration, and the dark strands of hair were tousled. Her ultimate fantasy now a reality.
But profound dread was winning the emotional war raging within her.
She hastily pulled her skirt down, setting herself to rights—at least as much as she could when her blouse no longer contained any buttons. Her eyesight floated to the mess on the floor, and the disarray sent another tremor of terror through her. Heavy breaths sawed in and out of her lungs as she knelt and grabbed her discarded panties, then used the fabric to wipe away the droplets of moisture on the hardwood.
“Yes, I want—I want—you should just—” she stammered, her brain so scrambled that lucid sentences were a chore.
Joel knelt beside her. “Mallory, it’s okay. Just talk to me.”
“I can’t, I can’t. Oh God.”
One large hand tenderly clasped her own. “Deep breaths.”
“This is not a panic attack,” she snapped, pulling away.
Her ferocious reaction momentarily stunned her, even though she’d spoken the truth. Panic attacks were extreme reactions to threats that were often not based in reality, but the danger she’d created was alarmingly tangible. She was overcome with the magnitude of what she’d done. Of how she’d threatened her livelihood and betrayed his relationship with Christine all in one night.
“Then what is it?” he asked, a measure of bitterness embedded in his tone as he grabbed his T-shirt and wiped his hands with it.
“It was a mistake.”
The lie burned her mouth. Made her want to shriek with anguish. But she said it nonetheless, and his entire form jolted at the insult. Her refusal to look at him was only making the situation worse, but she’d crumble completely if she lifted her gaze to his own.
“A mistake,” he repeated slowly, his delivery devastating.
“This shouldn’t have happened.” To her horror, the tears she’d tried to subdue broke free and streamed down her cheeks. “Please. Just go.”
Joel’s labored breaths rippled with distress, but he didn’t respond. With her head lowered, she felt him rise to his feet, heard him buckle his belt, and then the heavy steps of his work boots pounded the floor as he departed. The slam of the front door pulled a sob from deep within her, the sounds of her grief mixing into the cacophony of the storm.
The rain didn’t stop, nor did her tears. They trickled down her face as she gathered the fallen books and placed them back onto the shelves, a librarian to the very end.
As expected, the rainfall continued, and it didn’t help Mallory’s wretched mood. But she went through the motions, arriving at the library early to prep the volunteers working the book sale. Traffic was slow when the doors opened at nine that morning, but it picked up an hour later and remained steady. People went wild over the silent auction, the bids climbing as the day went on.
Mallory wished she could enjoy it, but her spirits were muddied by last night’s events, and guilt ate away at her as each hour passed. The blank evaluation form taunted her from the desk, and she could barely fathom getting through her date with Tyler that night. Especially considering how her whole body ached, deliciously sore after last night’s exertion.
She wasn’t surprised one iota when Joel didn’t make an appearance at the sale. The gift card for Black Cat Bakery was destined to belong to someone else, and something as trivial as that made her heart ache alongside her body.
When closing time rolled around, Mallory and Vivian sat behind the circulation desk and counted the profits while the rest of the staff and volunteers packed the leftover books, stashing them away in the storage room until the next sale. Once the winning bids for the auction items were factored in, Vivian’s hands raised with elation.
“That’s double what we made in the last sale,” she whooped.
Mallory managed a tight smile. She collected the last few dollars and placed the cash in the lockbox. “I’ll email the winning bidders on Monday.”
“We’ll have to make the auction a new tradition. Fantastic idea, Mallory.”
The praise fell flat, and shame threatened to swallow her whole. It hadn’t even been a full day since she’d hooked up with Joel, making a mess of this place, and she could barely look Vivian in the eye. How was she supposed to keep this secret and continue working here? It might mean losing her job—losing everything she’d worked so hard to establish for herself—but she couldn’t function if she didn’t come clean.
“You know Joel Foster?” Mallory began, her stomach in knots.
“Rawr. Sure do.”
A pitiful laugh flew out of her, and she hid her face in her hands. “He stopped by late last night to drop off some books. We may have, um…kissed,” she confessed, simplifying the situation to lessen the blow at first.
“Oh, good for you,” Vivian said, patting her thigh lovingly.
Mallory lifted her head to gawk at her boss. “Huh?”
“I knew you had a little crush on him. Glad one of you finally made a move.”
Vivian’s casual reaction wasn’t what she’d expected, but when Mallory considered it further, it wasn’t all that surprising. Her boss was the epitome of chill, and she was her friend to boot. Granted, Vivian’s opinion might alter if she heard things had progressed beyond a kiss.
“I feel terrible. It really wasn’t appropriate to let him in after hours…” She trailed off, still unable to admit to the full truth.
“Mallory, he could’ve bent you over this desk and banged your brains out and I’d still be happy for you.”
Well, then. Guess that settles that.
All that worrying for nothing. Served her right. But the knowledge that her position at the library was secure despite last night’s transgressions only raised her morale slightly.
She leaned back in the chair, sighing with defeat. “Even still. It’s not like it’ll work out.”
“Says who?”
Mallory threw her a look. “Christine, obviously.”
“Uh, you definitely don’t have to worry about that.”
Confusion swirled like a whirlpool. “What do you mean? At book club, everyone joked that she was trying to win him back.”
“Key word there being joked . I don’t know why she’s in town, but trust me. If she did want to rekindle things, Joel would not be on board.”
“Why not?”
Vivian struggled with how to answer. “God, where to even begin? I don’t know everything, and what I do know is hearsay. But it was bad. And I love to gossip as much as anyone, but you should ask him yourself.”
Exactly what Mallory originally planned to do before witnessing yesterday’s interlude at the bakery. Angst churned in her belly, the possibility that she’d jumped to conclusions a tough pill to swallow. She’d been so programmed to believe things would never go her way that it was effortless to default to the worst-case scenario. While she wasn’t positive exactly why Joel met with Christine yesterday, she’d never know the truth if she didn’t ask.
Evidently, all that introspection was written over her face, because Vivian gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze before she lifted the lockbox and tucked it against her shapely hip. “Don’t you have a date tonight?” she asked.
Shit. Mallory glanced at her watch. She was due to meet Tyler in an hour. She’d suggested the book club’s favorite tavern as the location for their date since it was a reliable spot. But it meant she’d have to depart soon to arrive in time, especially if the roads were rougher than usual, thanks to the rainfall.
“Yeah, I do,” she admitted resignedly.
“Hmm.”
She snorted at Vivian’s astute answer, and her boss winked before heading back to her office. As the rest of the volunteers finished for the day, Mallory touched up her makeup. Even though there was an urgency to learn the truth from Joel careening through her like a rushing river, she was at a loss when it came to the next steps.
The sensible course of action was to follow through with tonight’s date and resolve things with Joel at a time when she wasn’t teeming with one emotion after the other. Her return to impulsive behavior had already contributed to one meltdown this week, so it was best to play it safe.
Haven’t you played it safe enough?
Mallory shoved away that internal remark before it got the better of her. Before heading out, she folded the evaluation form and slipped it into her purse. She’d take care of it in the morning, confident she’d be prepared come Monday.
But as she neared the door, she almost tripped over her feet when she noticed that the ceramic stand contained one umbrella—Joel’s. She hadn’t realized he’d left it last night, and irresistible memories surfaced, threatening her resolve.
I care, Mallory.
Nevertheless, she forced herself to continue with her plan, although she grabbed the umbrella before leaving the library. The rain had eased off, now more of a mist than a deluge, and she set off on the usual route toward the tavern. As she traveled the familiar roads, the windshield wipers moving every minute to sweep away the light drizzle, a familiar sensation wormed its way into her chest.
Flashbacks of that fateful ride home with Joel consumed her. How the wind had coasted through her hair, and the moonlight had danced over the planes of his forearms while he clutched the steering wheel. How the energy between them had vibrated and coiled, so palpable that she’d been an utter fool to believe it was all in her head.
Sometimes the simplest things—a ride home here, a compliment there—could shift your entire world. And as she approached the exact location where her car had broken down, it was evident that another significant moment was destined to transpire. This time she’d have the courage to embrace it fully.
Because her earlier thought was right on the money. She’d played it safe for too long. Last night’s events notwithstanding, of course. She swerved to the side of the road and parked her car. The roads were quiet, but she put her flashers on as a precaution and grabbed her cell phone. As expected, the dating app took a while to generate, thanks to the spotty service.
When she pulled up her matches page, her heart plummeted to the ground. Joel’s profile was gone. He must have deleted it completely. There went her brilliant idea to message him. To use it as a tool to put herself out there and clear the air between them.
Go big or go home, Mallory.
She scrolled through her call log and found the number for Foster Auto Body. With bated breath, she waited for the call to connect.
“Hello, you’ve reached Foster Auto Body. We’re sorry we can’t come to the phone right now. Please press one to leave a message, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. If you need emergency assistance, please press two.”
This might not constitute an emergency in the grand scheme of things, but nothing felt more important to Mallory. She pressed the correct button, still unsure what she’d say if Joel picked up instead of his cousin. Thankfully, Tony’s voice reached her ear.
“Foster Auto Body,” he said. Faint noise echoed in the background, almost as if he’d stepped away from a gathering.
“Hi, Tony. It’s Mallory.”
“Ah, the librarian. Hello again.”
His tone was playful as usual, and she suspected Joel hadn’t told him about last night’s events. It strengthened her resolve to follow through on her impulsive plan.
“My car’s broken down,” she lied.
“You’ve got shit luck, huh?”
“You have no idea. But I’m hoping that changes soon.”
He laughed and asked, “Where you at?”
“Same exact spot as last time.”
There was a slight pause, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “What a coincidence.”
“It is. Any chance you can send the tow out?”
“I’m in the middle of something right now…but pretty sure I can get my cousin to take care of it,” he quipped, catching on straightaway.
“Don’t tell him it’s me, okay?”
“Why not?”
The memory of Joel’s distraught face hardened her throat. “I’m afraid he won’t come if he knows.”
“Lovers’ tiff?”
“Something like that,” she conceded.
“I’ll tell him it’s a helpless old biddy, how’s that?”
Close enough, she thought wryly. “Perfect. Thank you.”
With the plan in motion, she sent a message to Tyler, apologizing profusely for canceling their date at the last minute. He replied back almost immediately, showing a gracious level of understanding, and suggested rescheduling for the following weekend. But there was no point in pursuing things further. Not when her sights were set on only one man. After respectfully declining Tyler’s offer, she deactivated her account on the dating app.
The minutes passed as she waited on the side of the road, her heart and hope on the line.