With Springers, how could he ever know that any woman he formed a bond with wouldn’t try to change him? With or without his permission. Jenna had tried, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He’d been hurt and angry, and the truth was that kind of betrayal left a mark. He’d loved her. He had not been enough for her.
Love the man, love the beast. They were one and the same.
Just sex was fine with him. It had to be. None of his post-divorce relationships had taken place here in Mystic Springs. No, they happened when he was out of town, when he traveled for research… when he could pretend he was someone else…
He’d kissed Marnie once, and already it felt as if she could be permanent. She was different. Odd, scattered, smart, beautiful. But more than that he felt connected to her on a cellular level, as if he had instantly recognized her as being his. From the moment she’d seen him in Harry’s. Perhaps before.
Had he recognized her from a distance? Was that why he’d stopped in the street and allowed her to get a good, long look at him in his Dyn Gwallt state? There weren’t many strangers in town so it wasn’t like he had to be careful. He was quick, and usually that was enough. He had not moved on quickly when he’d seen Marnie. If he had, if he had not gone to her house that night, and again the next day, she would have easily written off that fleeting glance.
He had all but dared her to recognize him, to really see him.
He’d never given much credence to the theory that when it came to shifters, there was a predetermined mate. A woman meant for every man. A man destined to claim that one woman. In the old days, maybe, but in the 21st century? How could that be?
But as he watched Marnie gather her strength to speak, he realized that if she left tomorrow morning, he’d be right behind her.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Susan that she was done. Thanks, but no thanks, bye-bye. Good luck. But over Susan’s shoulder, there was Clint. Tall, muscled, handsome in a not-pretty way, not her type, unwanted distraction, kisses like an angel Clint.
In that moment it seemed silly to flee in fear over a note. She already knew some from Mystic Springs didn’t like strangers — including Ivy Franklin — but it wasn’t like the note had been written in blood, or anything. The ink had been purple, which was apparently Ivy’s favorite color, but would the baker have been so obvious? She seemed smarter than that. Maybe it had just been a prank, as Clint had suggested. This town definitely had more than its share of odd people. Maybe she could give Mystic Springs, and this fabulous library, another chance.
Yes, it was true, she was allowing herself to be influenced by a single kiss.
There was a welcome reception planned for tomorrow evening, and it would be rude to leave before that took place. She couldn’t be rude. Nannie, rest her soul, would be horrified. Marnie’s earlier panic had faded, somewhat, and while she was not thrilled with the day’s events, she wasn’t ready to run either.
Had she been swayed by common sense or by that kiss? She really wanted to convince herself that she was calling on logic, not emotion, but it was a hard sell.
“Maybe I overreacted,” she said in a lowered voice.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Susan said kindly.
“Neither would I,” Clint added in a lowered voice. “Until Travis finds something, one way or another, I’ll keep an eye on things here.”
Susan smiled and glanced Clint’s way. “Writer’s block?”
He shrugged. “Could be.”
Marnie squirmed. What did he mean by keep an eye on things here? From the outside? From inside? Exactly how close did he intend to be while he kept an eye on things?
At the moment, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t imagine that he’d ever be close enough.
Again, the chime over the front door sounded. Marnie jumped like she’d been shot.
The little girl she’d seen skipping down the street yesterday bounced into the library, a thin, hardback book clutched in one hand. “I know this book is overdue,” the child said as she placed it on the front counter. “But I don’t think I should have to pay a fine because the library was closed.”
“Felicity Adams,” Susan said in a censuring voice, “is that any way to introduce yourself to the new librarian? Now, give Miss Somerset a proper greeting.”
The girl sighed. “How do you do, Miss Somerset. I’m Felicity Adams.” She smiled widely. “I love the library so you will see me a lot, I’m afraid.” With that she all but danced toward the back of the room. Oh, to have that kind of energy!
Clint, her own parlor, and a little girl who loved the library as much as Marnie had as a child. Yes, she could give this job, and this town, one more chance…
After Susan and Felicity left, Marnie locked the door. Susan had remained her normal serene and cheerful self, supremely unconcerned about the note or the malfunctioning door chime. Felicity had sauntered off with three young adult books tucked under her arm and a satisfied smile on her face.
The little girl reminded Marnie of how much she’d loved the library as a child. And as an adult. Maybe there was hope for Mystic Springs yet.
Maybe.
It was well past noon, the normal closing time for Thursday. There were several hours of daylight left, since the summer days were long, but she doubted she’d be taking any Bigfoot photos today. She was exhausted. Besides, she couldn’t expect that she could just walk toward the woods and the thing would appear. It might take days, weeks, maybe months before she had an opportunity to take a picture. If she ever did.
She wouldn’t be here for months. Weeks? Unlikely. Days, maybe.
Marnie didn’t turn around for a moment. Clint stood behind her, and she wasn’t quite ready to look him in the eye.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine…” she began, turning slowly.
“I’m not,” he said.
How could he be so calm? How could he act as if nothing had happened?
She wasn’t talking about the note anymore.
She and Jay had been on four dates before they’d slept together. They’d known each other much longer than that, and had been to a number of dinners and parties with mutual friends. She’d known him well, had been aware of his flaws and his assets. She really had thought they worked as a couple before they took that step. In the end it turned out she’d been kidding herself.
She barely knew Clint. So why was she so certain that if he stuck around to keep an eye on her, he’d end up in her bed? And would that be a bad thing?
Yes, it would.
Then again, maybe not.
“Take a deep breath,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
That would be embarrassing.
“I just want to crawl into bed and get under the covers,” she said, and then she clarified, too sharply, “For a nap! I’m exhausted.”
“I understand.”
Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. It was likely he thought if he agreed with everything she said, she’d fall onto her back. She could be had, but she wasn’t easy. “I don’t handle abject terror very well.”
Lord, he had a great smile. He flashed it for her now. “You need food.”
“No, I need…” Her stomach growled, loudly. “Yes, I need food, but I think a sandwich and a glass of tea on my back porch is just what the doctor ordered.” Clint had bought her dinner Monday night, and lunch just yesterday, so another meal at Eve’s… would he consider that a third date? Some people said that third date was the one, and while she was in many ways ready and willing, she wasn’t exactly sure…
He’d said yesterday’s lunch was not a date, but still, best not to take any chances.
“I’ll walk you home.” It was an order, not a request, delivered as he took her arm to steady her. Yes, she needed to be steadied.
Marnie collected her purse and headed for the door, eager to get out of here. As she grabbed her bag from a shelf at the front desk, she had a passing thought that it, too, had been unguarded when some creep
had left that warning note. And when she’d run to the police station. And while she and Clint had been upstairs and he’d been effectively kissing her senseless.
This was a great library, it was her library — for the moment — but dammit, she had been so scared to realize that while she’d thought she was alone someone had been watching.
She checked, just to be sure, and yes, the house key was there in a side pocket of her purse, right where she’d left it. Still, having an escort home wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially if that escort was Clint Maxwell.
Chapter 9
The cottage Susan had assigned to Marnie was decent enough, he supposed, as long as you weren’t disturbed by the fact that a woman had been murdered there. It was small, the kitchen appliances were out of date, and there was just one bathroom, as he recalled. Of course, there was a single person living there, so one bathroom was plenty.
If Marnie found out now that Alice had been murdered here, in this house, she’d be out of town before dark.
“This is me,” she said as she turned down the walkway from the sidewalk. “Thanks for the escort.”
Clint stopped, watching her walk on without looking back. Damn, she had a great ass, a sexy walk, a curvy shape that would drive any man to distraction. As she reached the front steps she came to a halt with one foot on the bottom step. She looked back, and those dark eyes seemed to bore right through him.
“Want me to check the house for you?” he asked, his voice low.
Judging by her expression, she had just this moment wondered if the person who’d found his way into the library might have also found his way into her home. The idea terrified her.
If he didn’t do something, she wouldn’t be here much longer. Mystic Springs needs the librarian. If those words were true…
“I guess,” she said in a weak voice.
He tried to smile, to show her that he was confident no one had invaded her home. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected Susan had put some kind of protection spell on the cottage. She had to know that not everyone would be glad to see a stranger come to town. Susan’s magic wasn’t the most powerful in town, not by a long shot, so any spell of that kind would only be partially effective.
They’d both feel better if he had a look around.
Marnie unlocked the front door then moved back; he stepped around her and walked into the house first. Everything seemed to be in place in the living room. The kitchen was neat, with one plate and one coffee cup sitting in the sink. As he had recalled, the appliances were ancient. Maybe she didn’t cook much and didn’t care. The spare bedroom at the front, just off the living room — the room where Alice had died — was equally tidy, with a few sealed cardboard boxes scattered about, among the partially unpacked boxes. There was no place to hide in the small dining room, but he gave it the once over as he walked through to the kitchen, which was neat, with one plate and one coffee cup sitting in the sink. As he had recalled, the appliances were ancient. Maybe Marnie didn’t cook much and didn’t care. There weren’t many places to hide in the bathroom, but he checked the clawfoot tub. Just in case.
He saved Marnie’s bedroom for last.
The closet door stood open, and shoes were scattered everywhere. Clothes were tossed onto a small wingback chair and on the floor. The bed looked as if it had been not just slept in, but well used. Pillows on the floor, comforter tossed over the end, sheets askew.
“Damn, it looks like…”
Marnie skirted around him, eased him out of the room, and closed the door. “I’m a restless sleeper, and this morning I couldn’t decide what to wear.”
Clint tipped his head and looked down at her. She was close, very close, having rushed in to shut the door on her messy bedroom. He should back up, at least a little bit, but he didn’t. He liked having her close. He wanted to open that door, toss her onto the rumpled bed, and rumple it some more.
He didn’t mean to growl, he really didn’t…
Marnie’s eyes widened. She ducked down and slipped past him once again, this time in order to escape.
He was too old to play games, and so was she. The attraction was mutual. It was strong. It was damn near undeniable. He followed her to the kitchen.
“It’s going to happen, you know,” he said. “We’re going to sleep together.” A nice way to put it. If he ever got her into that bed, there wasn’t going to be a lot of sleeping going on.
Marnie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea. She didn’t say anything as she fetched two glasses from the cupboard. Two. That was good. She didn’t intend to immediately push him out the door.
She sighed, and as she filled the glasses she said, “I don’t want to rush into anything. We should take our time, get to know one another better, maybe go on a date.”
“Technically we’ve been on two.”
She looked at him. “Do they count? As I recall, you specifically said lunch was not a date.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Clint took the glass she handed him. “You want to be wooed.”
“That’s kind of an old-fashioned word for it, but I guess, yes. Woo me.”
Flowers. Candy. Dancing? Shit, he did not dance. If he took her out to dinner it would have to be at Eve’s or Harry’s. Neither qualified as romantic. The whole town would be watching. Hell, he didn’t do romantic. Not for anyone. At least, not for anyone else.
He placed his glass on the kitchen table, took hers from her hand and set it beside his, then wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to kiss you again.”
Her eyes were wide. “Okay.” And then, before he could move toward her she rose up on her toes and kissed him. His surprise didn’t last long.
It was a good kiss. Deep and mesmerizing, soft and powerful. They picked up right where they’d left off, when Susan had come into the library and interrupted them. He was driven; he didn’t ever want to let Marnie go. Maybe he wouldn’t.
Her right leg rose up, moving slowly, slowly, as she instinctively brought her sex closer to his. She took her mouth from his just long enough to say, “Maybe I don’t really need to be wooed.”
Hallelujah.
He slipped a hand under her shirt, brushed it against her soft skin up to cup her breast. A silky bra was in the way. His hand slipped to her back, where he deftly unsnapped the annoying under thing.
Before he could move it aside, a voice rang out from the front porch.
“Woo-hoo, Miss Librarian.” The front door opened and closed, and quick footsteps headed their way.
Marnie’s leg dropped, and she took a step back. So close, and yet…
“There you are!” Janie Holbrook walked into the kitchen with a wide smile on her face and a plastic grocery bag in her hand. Did she realize what she’d interrupted? Perhaps. Perhaps not. “Do you like tomatoes?” she asked, her attention on Marnie. “Of course you do. Everyone likes tomatoes. My garden is bursting with them this year, so I decided to share. Do you have bread? Mayonnaise? There’s nothing like a tomato sandwich in the summertime, when the tomatoes are fresh from the garden.” Janie looked at Clint then, and the gleam in her eye hardened. “Maxwell.”
Janie was well into her seventies, thin as a rail, and qualified as the nosy neighbor every town seemed to have. She had a massive garden, and a greenhouse almost as big as Marnie’s bedroom.
He really didn’t need to think about Marnie’s bedroom…
She had also been best friends with Jenna’s grandmother. Hence the glare.
Janie introduced herself to Marnie and pointed out her house, which was directly across the street. She literally pointed, though they could not see the house from here in the kitchen. Hers was the only one of those three houses currently occupied. Marnie squirmed a little. It should be no surprise that she squirmed. Her bra was hanging loose, thanks to him.
She thanked Janie for the tomatoes, and said with appropriate enthusiasm that she loved tomato sandwiches. Clint had a fleeting hope that Janie would say goodbye after that, but she didn’t
. She walked to the back porch to look out over Marnie’s back yard and make suggestions as to what should be planted there in the fall, and how the roses should be tended.
Would Marnie be here in the fall?
Marnie sighed and followed Janie to the porch, but before she reached the old woman Clint grabbed her arm. He leaned down, placing his mouth near her ear. “Dinner. My house. Saturday night. Prepare to be wooed.”
Prepare to be wooed. Those words echoed through Marnie’s mind as she walked to work on Friday morning. She wore sneakers for the short trip, but had a pair of navy pumps in her oversized bag, along with her laptop, her smaller purse, and a tomato sandwich, which she intended to have for lunch. She only yawned three or four times.
Last night’s monkey brain — and memory turds — had not included Bigfoot. Well, not much. Instead she had laid in bed far too late thinking about Clint and that kiss. She’d been ready to take him there on the kitchen table, until the tomato-toting neighbor had interrupted.
Just as well that they had been interrupted, she thought as she approached the library door. She didn’t need to be making rash decisions, especially not where men were concerned. Clint was not at all what she had planned for the man in her life. Mr. Darcy he was not. Sophisticated? No. He had significantly more brain power than Jay or any of her other previous boyfriends had possessed, but he used it to write stories that scared her witless.
That was it. He and the intruder had scared her witless. That’s why she couldn’t think straight, at least where he was concerned.
Boyfriend. Huh. She could not see Clint as anyone’s boyfriend. Lover, yes. Significant other, maybe. Other half…
Bigfoot and the Librarian Page 9