Chapter 18
Riley
“What are you doing here?” Steph’s voice is measured, but the pleased glint in her eyes belies her tone. It’s the first time she’s asked me that question where I haven’t actually felt unwelcome. She’s trying to hide it, but I can tell she’s happy to see me.
I shrug. After seeing her at the bar last week and the arguably flirty way she behaved with me, I couldn’t resist stopping by the library today—you know, to push my luck.
“Is it too forward of me to say I wanted to see you?”
She glances away, that gorgeous flush rising to her cheeks. Choosing to ignore my comment, she says, “I can’t talk right now.”
A shrug. “I know.”
“I’m at work,” she adds unnecessarily, for we’re standing in the entry of the library.
“I know,” I repeat.
“Then … what do you want?”
“I thought I’d wait for you to get off. Maybe we could grab a bite to eat?”
Her face blanches.
Crap. Too much, Riley, you’re pushing too much too fast.
It’s hard to be patient when she’s all I can think about, though. A week is long enough; I needed to lay eyes on her again.
“Or, maybe we could take a walk …” I backpedal quickly.
She sighs, glancing away again, making a point of scanning around the space. From where we’re standing, I can see two teenagers who’d been seated at the computer stations at the rear of the building packing up their notes and textbooks.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” she says softly as the girls approach us. Turning to face them, Steph puts on a smile. It’s beautiful and genuine, but I won’t count it because it’s not for me. “Can I help you ladies with anything?” she asks.
“We have a couple of books to check out,” one of the girls says, her eyes darting awkwardly toward me. It’s then I notice the other girl is staring at me as well. When she notices me watching her, she quickly looks away.
Huh.
My gaze tracks back to Steph, who’s been observing the interaction with delight.
“Come on over, and we’ll get you sorted,” she says, her voice filled with mirth.
The girls glance up at me once more, their faces flushed with heat. I bite back a chuckle. It seems I’m making all the ladies blush tonight.
“You’re Alex’s mom, right?” one of the girls asks as they follow Steph to the circulation desk to check out their books.
“That’s right,” she answers easily. “You know him?”
The girl nods. “We have a class together. Computer graphics.”
“Oh, are you Izzy? You worked on that design project with him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s great. He said you were brilliant with the concept.”
The girl smiles. “Nah, he’s the one who carried that whole section.”
“Well, I’m sure you did your part,” Steph reassures her, but it’s plain to see the pride shining on her face. She’s such a good mother. I drift closer as she finishes scanning their books, the other girl continuing to eye me over her shoulder.
“Anyway, uh, tell Alex I said ‘Hi.’”
“I will. Have a good night, girls,” Steph says with a wave as they move toward the door. She pulls her phone from the pocket of her dress and checks the time. I know it’s nearing nine because I purposely timed my visit for the end of her shift.
“Goodnight,” I call after them, too, causing them both to whip their heads back at me in surprise. One of them stumbles but catches herself.
“Goodnight,” she squeaks.
“Looks like it’s not just the Mystery Mavens,” Steph muses with a smirk.
“Huh?”
“It seems you’ve got quite a few admirers in this town,” Steph elaborates, her voice again filled with amusement as we watch the girls push through the heavy front door. The sound of their high-pitched giggles reaches us from outside as they rush away from the building.
“Tell me you’re one of them,” I tease with a chuckle, and I’m pleased to see her bite her lip in an attempt to hide a smile.
I’m taking that one. Fifteen.
“Soooo,” I start, dragging out the word for emphasis. “You didn’t answer me about the walk.”
“Did too.”
“Nope.”
“Yes. I said it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Well, that’s not the answer I want to hear, so try again.”
She slumps her shoulders, letting out an exasperated breath. “I’m serious, Riley. I can’t do this with you.”
“Do what?”
She waves a hand sharply between us.
“This.”
“Take a walk with a friend?”
“Don’t be dense.” She rolls her eyes. “You and I both know that’s not all it would be.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than that, Sunshine.”
It’s a lie, but I need her to give me an in. To let me explain what happened all those years ago. Our last couple of encounters have been great, and I know she feels it too, the charge that fills the air whenever we’re together.
She huffs a breath through her nose but doesn’t say anything more.
I follow silently as she moves through the library, checking to make sure there’s no one else left in the building.
She shuts down the computers one by one and tidies up the small staff kitchen in the back corner.
When she turns to find me only a step behind, effectively encroaching on her personal space, she shakes her head and pushes past me.
Returning to the front entry, she gathers her purse and jacket.
“I’m going home,” she says firmly.
“Okay,” I concede, pushing the door open and holding it for her as she sets the alarm and follows me out. She digs the keys from her purse and locks up, pulling on the handle twice to ensure the bolt is in place.
“So why are you still here?”
“Just going to walk you to your car, Sunshine.”
“Don’t call me—”
“Sunshine. Got it,” I finish for her agreeably.
She shoots me a disbelieving look before pushing past me. I grin. I’m definitely still going to be calling her Sunshine, and we both know it.
We walk side-by-side down the quiet street.
It’s late autumn, and night has fallen. The streetlights have all come on.
Llyn Lakes is generally a safe town, all the stuff that went on with Davies notwithstanding, but I don’t love the idea of her walking alone to her car like this at night.
I make a mental note to get Steph’s schedule from Piper.
Will she tell me? I think she will if I let her know why I want it.
A car passes, moving more swiftly than it should be in this part of town, and I move to Steph’s right, effectively placing myself between her and the road. She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow, but I just shrug.
“So chivalrous.”
“My momma taught me well,” is all I say.
Far too soon, we arrive at her car. A single block wasn’t what I had in mind when I’d suggested a walk, but I realize I’m getting ahead of myself with the visions of a romantic stroll hand-in-hand by the water that I’d indulged in while she closed up the library.
Reluctantly, I say goodnight as Steph gets in her car and I cross to my truck parked on the other side of the street.
I click the remote to unlock the cab, but I don’t get in, waiting first for her to start her car and drive off.
She notices me watching, and I think I make out an eye roll through the window, but I only grin, waiting patiently.
And I’m glad I do—for when she turns the key in the ignition, all it does is sputter.
She tries it again, glancing in my direction once more, but I’m already crossing back towards her car.
It sputters twice more before I reach her, opening her door to an annoyed squawk.
“What are you doing?” she snaps.
“What are you doing? You should always lock your door, Steph. I shouldn’t have been able to open it just now.”
“Riley, I can’t deal with you at the moment,” she says through clenched teeth, fishing around in her purse and extracting her phone. “I need to call triple-A.”
“Not yet. Pop the hood.”
She drops the hand holding her phone in her lap and stares up at me in confusion.
“I said, ‘pop the hood.’”
“Why?”
“So I can look at the engine.”
“You know about cars?”
“A little.”
“Let me guess,” she says, her voice sounding only slightly petulant. “You were a mechanic in Timbuctoo.”
I chuckle, rubbing my hand on the back of my neck. “Not quite, but I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years. Come on,” I encourage again. “Pop the hood.”
She does, and I lean over the engine to take a look.
“Okay,” I call to her. “Can you try to start it again?”
She does, but the engine still refuses to turn over, making a clicking noise. It’s not an unfamiliar one, and almost immediately, I think I know what the problem is. Backing up a few steps, I ask her to turn on her headlights. She does, and I check them to see if they’ve dimmed, but they look fine.
“What does that tell you?” she asks, and I’m surprised to see she’s exited the car and come to stand beside me.
“That it’s probably not your battery.”
“Oh.”
“You got a lug wrench?” I ask.
“Um. Maybe?”
“Can you pop the trunk now?”
She watches me for a long moment, then does as I’ve asked.
Moving around the back of the car, I lean in to find her trunk packed full of stuff.
Boxes filled with blankets, two half-empty bottles of washer fluid, a roll of paper towels.
Some old, muddy running shoes, a gym bag, a football, several water bottles, and other unidentifiable detritus with a handful of protein bars scattered throughout.
She steps up beside me again, and I turn to her in surprise.
She’s always been so neat and tidy. Or she was.
“I have two teenagers,” she explains.
I grunt.
“If you’re trying to get to the spare tire—”
“Never mind,” I mutter. It’ll take forever to move all of this stuff to access the tire kit beneath. “I have a wrench in my truck,” I add, calling over my shoulder as I trot back across the street.