Falling for Trouble

by Sarah Title

  Now Joanna was confused. “How do you know—?”

  “The usual?” Gus cut her off. Was he blushing?

  Good Lord, did Granny and Gus have a thing?

  She needed a beer.

  She nodded for the usual, then scanned the crowd for a better place to hover while she waited for the music to start. Preferably a quiet corner where she could avoid the curious looks from locals and the overenthusiastic bouncing of the SUNY kids. Didn’t they know you weren’t supposed to bounce at rock shows anymore? Just stand there and appreciate it, dammit. That’s what the cool kids did now.

  She headed toward her ideal corner of the bar, but when she got there, she saw that it was occupied. And that it was occupied by Liam the Librarian. Liam the Librarian, who was wearing a tie, loosened at the neck, and a dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

  Do not notice the forearms, she told herself. And do not, instead, focus on the shoulders. Or the neck. Who even had a sexy neck? This guy was ridiculous.

  Before she had a chance to wipe the scowl of disapproval off her face (really, it was unnatural for someone that dorky to be that sexy), he looked up and caught her eye. He gave her a confused look—apparently he was unaware of how wrong his sexiness was. She thought about sticking her tongue out and finding a new corner. But she was a grown-up now. She didn’t need to hide her mistakes with aggressive posturing.

  So she smiled.

  Now he looked frightened.

  Great, Joanna. You can’t even flirt with the sexy librarian.

  He seemed to shake off whatever it was about her that was frightening him (her personality, she realized) and he gave her the same smile as when she’d seen him in the library. The How Can I Help You Smile.

  Great. She could either spend the night trading confusing glances with Liam the Sexy Librarian, or she could get trampled by the SUNY students pouring in to see the band.

  “Hey, Joanna.”

  The librarian spoke! And now his customer service smile was replaced with a look of mild curiosity.

  She was getting really good at reading this guy’s face.

  “Yeah, hi. I almost didn’t recognize you without your head in my grandmother’s fridge.” Hey, that sounded nice and weird.

  “Are you here to see the band?” She recovered smoothly, because of course he was, wearing a tie. Totally the kind of thing one wears to a post-punk hipster band show.

  He nodded, which surprised her. So he had good taste in music (Bunny Slippers aside), bad instincts for fashion. “I’ve been hearing good stuff about these guys,” he said, pointing his beer toward the stage where a bunch of guys—in suits!—were starting the sound check. “It was supposed to be my reward for surviving the town council meeting.”

  She took in his rumpled-up sleeves and his tie, askew. “How’d it go?”

  He raised his glass.

  She took that to mean not well.

  “So that’s why you’re wearing a suit in a dive bar?”

  “Yup.”

  “I thought you were auditioning for Death of a Salesman.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t think—”

  “What, you didn’t think I could make literary references? I took freshman English, same as everyone else.”

  He held up his hands. “Okay! You’re right. That was an unfair assumption.”

  She took a drink of her beer. It was delicious and cold and tasted like the best and worst times of her misspent youth. Mmm . . . beer. Too bad the company was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

  Don’t look at the sexy librarian’s mouth.

  “Do I look ridiculous?”

  She looked at the sexy librarian’s mouth. But only because that’s where the words were coming from.

  “Huh?” she asked, because she took freshman English.

  He waved his hand up and down, indicating his body. No, she corrected herself, indicating his clothes. His body was ridiculous, librarian-wise.

  She shrugged. “You’d look more ridiculous in skinny jeans.”

  He looked pained. “I do not understand skinny jeans. How can they be comfortable?”

  “Hey, it’s about time men learned to suffer for fashion.”

  “Yes, but that just seems so . . .”

  Whatever it seemed was cut off by the band.

  And Joanna had a major flashback. The sound pouring through the speakers went straight to her heart. Part of her wanted to jump up on the stage and steal the skinny suit–wearing lead guitar, and part of her wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. That could have been her up on that stage. Up on any stage in the world. She just had to play crappy radio music.

  “They’re not that bad.” Liam nudged her with his elbow.

  She gave him a weak smile and a thumbs-up.

  “They got nothing on you, kid,” Gus said, sidling up to them.

  “I’d love to hear you play live,” Liam said, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  Joanna hmphed noncommittally. She’d love to play live. Her fingers were itching to do it. But in this shitty town? And who with?

  “She was the heart and soul of Delicious Lies,” Gus said like a proud papa.

  Liam raised an eyebrow at her.

  “High school band,” she explained, hoping the band onstage would continue their excessively rowdy guitar riffs. It didn’t make for a great balance of sound, but it did the trick when she was avoiding talking about things Gus was not getting the hint about.

  “Great name,” Liam said.

  It was a great name. It perfectly captured how she and her angry high school girlfriends felt about society, man. She was glad she hadn’t taken it with her to LA. LA would have beaten Delicious Lies into sexy-boring rock submission.

  “Too bad that other gig didn’t work out.” The look on Gus’s face was getting awfully close to pity, which was alarming enough. Coupled with the fact that she did not want to talk about bands not working out, it made Joanna suddenly decide she’d had enough rock music for one night.

  She put her empty beer bottle on the bar. “See you, Gus.”

  “’Night, kid.”

  “You’re leaving?” Liam the Librarian actually looked a little sad about that.

  “Not my scene.”

  “I thought you came here for the music.”

  Which was true, and which had just started.

  “It’s the company,” she said, bitterly.

  His face told her that he got the hint, but the rest of him clearly did not.

  “Hold on, I’ll walk you to your car.” He reached for his wallet.

  “No, it’s fine. I walked.”

  “Well then, let me walk you home. It’s late.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “It’s Halikarnassus. Besides, I know self-defense.”

  She watched the thoughts pass over his face—he wanted to be a gentleman, but he wanted to finish his drink. This guy should definitely never play poker.

  She put him out of his misery and made it easier for him. “Your nice-guy bullshit? Don’t bother.” She didn’t wait for his response, just waved and was out the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Walking across the parking lot and the woods and the field, Joanna wished she had a cigarette. She hadn’t smoked since she’d graduated from high school, and since the only place to buy cigarettes at this hour was Chet’s, she wasn’t going to have one. She needed something to distract her from the assault on her feelings.

  The band sucked. There was no doubt about that. That was the only possible explanation for her heart-pounding desire to get onstage and play with them. She just wanted to fix their bad songs, that was all. She was done with music. Even if she thought she could get away with playing without selling her soul (or selling out), Rosetta was all, nope. You’re done with that.

  She tried her best not to think about what she’d said to Liam. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t handle her feelings. And it hadn’t felt particularly good to take it out on him. But it was over now. She couldn’t worry about
the delicate feelings of the town librarian.

  “Hey!”

  Joanna turned, her fists ready for a fight.

  But this was Halikarnassus, where nothing happened, good or bad, so she shouldn’t have worried. It was just Liam the Librarian, suit jacket in hand, striding across the field toward her.

  “Do you have some kind of problem with me?” he asked, getting up in her face.

  She inhaled. He smelled like beer and breath mints. She saw his eyes flick to her lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He licked his lips. She leaned in. His neck smelled like oranges. She loved oranges.

  She licked the pulse point in his neck. He might have shivered, he might have groaned, she didn’t know and she didn’t have time to find out before his mouth was on hers, hard and rough and desperate, and she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him closer, battling with his tongue, stretching tall so her whole body was flush with his. His hands were rough on her hips, insistent, and he walked her backward so they were under the old covered bleachers. Her calves hit the ancient wood and she fell back but she took him with her, and his hands were crazy, grabbing, squeezing, driving her wild. She was wild. She was a sex-starved rock beast and she was being ravished by a librarian on public bleachers.

  She reached for his shirt and pulled, buttons flying as she revealed his chest, taut and glistening. She ran her hands greedily over his muscles while he lifted her hips and—

  Joanna woke with a gasp, her sheets a tangled, sweaty mess around her legs. Her T-shirt was bunched around her armpits, and if she’d had underwear on before she went to bed, it was gone now.

  Holy hell. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to catch her breath.

  Then she noticed Starr sitting in the open doorway, watching her.

  “Don’t judge me, dog.” Joanna pulled her shirt down and stalked over to the door. “He’s a lot hotter than he seems.” She shut the door in the dog’s face and went back to bed, praying that in the morning, she would forget about the whole sordid dream.

  Chapter Eleven

  The third Thursday of the month at 2:30 in the afternoon was simultaneously Liam’s favorite and least favorite time of the month. Favorite because on top of the usual afternoon craziness, the library was bustling with kids getting out of Toni’s afternoon storytime and his White-Haired Old Ladies coming in early for book group to scour the new releases. Least favorite because, gah, so many people.

  “What do you know about this one?” Phyllis Parker asked him, holding up the second-latest thriller with the word “Girl” in the title. (The latest was checked out and had a holds queue a mile long.)

  “Eh, probably not for you,” he told her. Not because it was too violent, although it was, but because Phyllis hated to read about a stupid heroine. This heroine, this girl, she didn’t make the best choices. “What about this one?” He picked up a mystery set in the 1920s with a ferocious lady detective.

  “Read it. Loved it. You need some more new books in here.”

  Tell me about it, he thought, but did not say. If he said it, Phyllis would launch into a long rant about Hal Jr.’s asshattery (her word), and as much as Liam appreciated her passion, parents tended to stare when Phyllis went off like that. Then they would write him angry e-mails about inappropriate language, then he’d have to talk to Phyllis about her language, or at least her volume, then she’d tell him she’d say whatever the hell she wanted but for his sake, she’d keep it down. He tried to keep these conversations down to once a quarter, and she’d already met her quota for Q2.

  They just needed some more books.

  “Hi, Mr. Liam!”

  Liam looked down to see Max and Hazel Flunderman at his hip, their mouths ringed in what looked like the remnants of red juice. Which was amazing, because Toni would never serve red juice at storytime. But then, if there was something to be gotten into, Max and Hazel Flunderman would get into it.

  “Hey, guys,” he said, squatting down to their level. “Did you have a good storytime?”

  “It was okay,” Hazel said with a serious sigh. “I wanted Miss Toni to read the snow time story again.”

  Her devotion to the classic The Snowy Day was adorable. And obsessive.

  “Well, I think Miss Toni was reading summertime books since it’s almost summer.”

  “I hate summer! It’s not fair! It doesn’t snow at all!”

  “But the pool is open in the summer,” Max told his sister with deadly seriousness. “You can’t even swim in the winter.”

  Hazel sighed again. It was hard, dealing with the seasons.

  “Guys, quit bothering Mr. Liam.” Their mom, Trina, came out from the children’s area, her arms overloaded. “Help me carry some of these books, would you?”

  “But my arms are noodles!” Max said, flopping his arms at his sides to prove that, indeed, his arms were noodles.

  Trina rolled her eyes. “Jesus. The old noodle-arm trick.”

  Liam stood and took the most precariously placed books from the pile. “Ready to check out?”

  “Yes, I think we’ve managed to find the forty thousand books they need to tide them over until we come to the library again in like three days.”

  “And The Snowy Day?” Hazel asked.

  “You know, you have a copy of that book at home.”

  “But I like the library one! It smells like a library.”

  “Yes, we have the library-smelling Snowy Day.”

  Hazel jumped up and down and clapped her hands, and her twin brother followed.

  “You know, you’re supposed to be quiet in here,” Phyllis said with a smile. “Hey, Mr. Liam, how come they can shout but I can’t?”

  “Because your shouts are not rated G.” Trina laughed.

  “Miss Phyllis, when can we come over and play with Baby Louise?”

  “Oh, soon, I’m sure. Or maybe your mom will get you your own kitten.”

  “Thanks, Phyllis,” Trina said.

  “We can’t because Daddy’s allergikt,” Hazel said as if she was imparting the sad news that Daddy had betrayed them all and was a severe disappointment.

  “Is he now?” Phyllis asked.

  “Yes, very allergikt,” Trina said.

  “Hmm, that must be a new allergy.”

  “Yes, I think he developed it around the time they started visiting Baby Louise.”

  “Curious.”

  “Isn’t it? Well, we’ve got to check these out so we can go home for n-a-p-s.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Mommy, we know that means naps.”

  “I’m too big for a nap,” Hazel announced.

  “I know, but Mommy isn’t.”

  “Mommy, you’re weird.”

  Trina didn’t say anything, just led her kids over to the checkout. Liam followed. “See you in a minute,” he told Phyllis. She waved him off with a smile and went back to judging the stupidity of the new books’ heroines.

  “Sorry to drag you away,” Trina said.

  “That’s okay, I’ll talk to Phyllis plenty in book group.”

  “Oh, that’s right, that’s today. We were going to stop by to see Peggy on our way home, but maybe if she’s coming here . . .”

  “I’m not sure. Her granddaughter came to pick up the book for her, though, so maybe.”

  “Oh my God, you’ve seen Joanna?”

  “Who’s Joanna?” Max asked.

  “Joanna is Mommy’s best friend who is dead meat because she’s been to the library but not to visit us yet.”

  “Dead meat!” Hazel said, in wonder.

  “Sorry,” Liam said, as if it was his fault that Joanna had time to go to the library and to rock shows but not to visit her best friend. It did seem kind of shady, though.

  “I was supposed to meet her last night at Chet’s, but someone got sick.”

  “I throwed up,” Max said, proudly.

  “I didn’t,” Hazel said, just as proudly.

  “I’m all better now, though, so I don’t throw up anymore.”

&
nbsp; “Great,” Liam said. Because, well, it was great.

  “Hey, guys.” Kristin Klomberg came up behind Trina’s brood, Kale in her arms, his mouth full of board book. Liam winced, more for the health hazards of Kale putting a book that had been in the mouth of half of the toddlers of Halikarnassus in his mouth than out of concern for public property.

  “Baby Kale!” Hazel squealed and proceeded to tickle Kale’s chubby little legs. Kale started giggling and squirming, so Kristin let him down.

  “Now you hold Hazel’s hand and be good, okay, Kalie?”

  “Hay-thuh!” Kale proclaimed, dropping the board book and trading it for Hazel’s hand.

  “Do you want to read The Snowy Day?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she took the book from the pile and sat down in front of the desk. Kale climbed into her lap and listened as Hazel recited the book from memory.

  “She’s the only one he’ll sit still for,” Kristin said, in wonder. “What is her secret?”

  “She inherited her mama’s charm,” Trina said. “And he listens to her because she’s not his mom.”

  “Hmm. I can’t imagine a Klomberg man being stubborn. What are you guys up to now?”

  “Well, we were going to see Peggy, but Liam thinks she might be coming to book group,” Trina said.

  “Oh, is she out and about?”

  “I don’t know,” said Liam. “I’m just hoping.”

  “Trust me, we would have heard if she was,” Trina said.

  “Well, if Joanna’s her nurse, I wouldn’t hold out hope for a quick recovery,” Kristin said with a sneer.

  “Oh, God. Will you let that high school crap go?”

  “I’m just saying, she’s not very maternal. Did I tell you she almost ran over Kale in the parking lot?”

  “Holy shit. What?”

  Liam was alarmed on many levels. One, that a child was almost run over. And two, that it was on property he was responsible for. And three, that he was only now just hearing about it.

  “Mr. Liam said ‘shit,’” Max helpfully told his mother.

  “I know. He’ll get a spanking later, I’m sure.”

  Liam blushed. Trina’s outrageous sense of humor still caught him off guard sometimes. Also, he had a little bit of a guilty conscience vis-à-vis adults spanking each other, what with him fantasizing about Joanna and all.