Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  Tall and curvy with an impressive rack, she looked like a vintage ‘50s pin-up in stiletto heels and Marilyn Monroe cardigan sweaters. Her heavy dark-rimmed glasses make her doe-like eyes seem bigger, and even more beautiful—magnifying their eerie green-hazel color. She loved books and she always smelled of sugar cookies.

  Hank never knew the why behind his particular kink, but he’d always had a thing for girls in glasses. He’d never been into stick figure girls—the ones with the perfectly straight hair and perfectly straight teeth that populated nearly all of the cheerleading squads. But he couldn’t get enough of smart girls in glasses. The curvy girls with big brains were the ones he couldn’t resist. He loved the kind of girl who had real things to say about current events and books they’d read.

  You don’t have an ice cube’s chance in hell with a smart chick like Charlie Bishop. She’s going to know your game before you even play it.

  Hank rolled over and glanced at the bedside clock. It’s late. Seriously late. The middle of the night and it wasn’t the first time she’s gotten home late

  Where did Charlie go every Thursday night?

  What was she doing out this late? Was she with her girlfriends, or was she dating somebody and keeping it on the down low?

  Hank sat straight up in bed.

  Who? Was she hooking up with Nels again? Was she was sneaking around with him?

  Nels’ family had money. He’d grown up with the confidence and self-assurance that went along with it. Nels would never know what it was like to struggle. The kind Hank faced every day choosing between doing something he loved, and paying the bills.

  Hank punched his pillow to make it more comfortable, so maybe, just maybe, he’d fall back to sleep.

  Then her heels hit the hardwood floor in her bedroom on the other side of the wall and he was wide awake. The walls in the duplex were thin, and sometimes at night his mind played tricks with him. Her soft sighs. It woke him up out of a deep sleep.

  If she’s having sex with some random dude I’m glad they’re doing it at his place.

  What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t want her to be with anyone else.

  Sometimes when he got home late, all the lights on Charlie’s side of the duplex would be out. The house would be completely dark, except for one small light in her bedroom. Then his imagination would take flight.

  She must be in bed. Reading.

  Was she wearing pajamas? Or naked?

  Or maybe wearing nothing her glasses.

  Naked in glasses?

  God, that’s hot. His train of thought was not helping Hank fall back to sleep. He was thinking about getting up and pacing the living room when the phone rang. Hank checked the caller ID, and immediately recognized the number.

  “Shit.” He threw back the covers and rolled to his feet. It was going to be another long sleepless night.

  Hank stepped out onto the front porch. There was a bright full moon, lighting up the sky. The kind of moon his mom used to make wishes on. Before he got a chance to offer up one of his own, the door to Charlie's duplex opened. Dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, she was holding a dust-buster over her head.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s with the mini-vacuum?”

  “I don’t have a baseball bat,” she said. “It’s the closest thing I’ve got to a weapon.”

  “Good Harbor doesn’t have much crime,” Hank said.

  “I know. That’s why I don’t have a baseball bat.”

  “So you were going to come out here and do what? Clean the lint off some poor unsuspecting prowler’s jacket?”

  “Yeah. Something like that,” she said. “What are you doing out here? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “I’ve got to run an errand,” he said.

  A knowing smile crossed Charlie’s face. “Late night booty call, huh?”

  Hank grimaced. His old reputation with woman had gotten around to her. He wasn't exactly surprised. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Have a fun,” she said in a playful manner. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Thanks.” He didn’t like keeping secrets, but at least it was something he was good at it. He supposed it was better she think he was getting his rocks off with some chick than know the truth about his dad. “Get back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “In the house, Charlie. Now!”

  “You’re very bossy,” she said with a playful gleam in her eye.

  God, I want her.

  Hank wanted to touch her sugary sweet skin.

  “Okay. Okay. No need for the Emperor Palpatine scowl, I’m going,” Charlie said, before she slipped back inside her front door.

  “And lock the door behind you,” Hank shouted at the closed door. He waited until she threw the deadbolt before he trudged out to his truck.

  Hank didn’t know when his protective instincts had kicked in. He just knew they had. He wanted Charlie to be safe. Behind locked doors. Until he could make her his. His Valentine.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Could someone please go and check on Porn Guy?”

  Charlie adjusted the volume on her walkie-talkie headset. Wearing it was giving her a headache. Not to mention that fact that it made her feel more like a sales associate at Pottery Barn than a really smart chick with a Master’s Degree in Library Science. She took a deep breath and tried to give herself an attitude adjustment. She needed to comply with the rules set by Katrina, even if she didn’t agree with them. It was the only way she would be able to continue to work at the library. And she loved her job.

  “Effie? Mia? Ariel?” Charlie said, with all the brightness she could manage. She was feeling snappish and brittle. She waited impatiently for a response, re-shelving and rearranging books. It didn’t come. And she let her natural sarcasm get the best of her. “Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?”

  Even though Katrina had called in sick, she’d insisted the staff try-out the new communication system. What really rankled Charlie was Katrina’s habit of treating the library staff like a bunch of toddlers. As far as Charlie was concerned, making her wear a headset was just one-step away from putting a baby monitor on her desk.

  “I’ll go,” Ariel finally responded. Charlie was grateful. Ariel was always the first to volunteer for the really dirty jobs nobody else wanted. “Which floor is he on?”

  “He’s in the second floor video carrel, behind the periodical section,” Charlie said. “We haven’t had any complaints yet, but he’s been quiet for an awfully long time.”

  “Sounds ominous,” Ariel said gleefully. “I hope I get to catch him in the act.”

  “FYI, the bleach and gloves are under the sink in the break room.”

  “Important safety tip,” Ariel said. “I’m on it. Over and out,”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said. “Mia? Are you near the first floor reference desk?”

  “I’m in the Children’s Story Time Area.”

  “Can you buzz past the Information Desk in the main lobby, and ask Effie to put on her headset?”

  “Will do,” Mia said.

  A few minutes later a loud crackle immediately followed by feedback announced Effie’s arrival on the library’s walkie-talkie system. “Testing. Testing. Is this thing on?”

  “Effie?” Charlie asked. “Is that you?”

  “If I’d wanted to be a back-up singer for Madonna,” Effie said. “I wouldn’t haven’t have spent the last thirty-five years working as a librarian.”

  Charlie snorted just a little. Effie’s tart tongue was always firmly planted in her cheek. “Thank you for joining us.”

  “Pardon me. Can you help me find a book?” A man’s voice asked.

  Are you kidding? It was Charlie’s favorite request. She lived to help people find a book. She turned around and held her breath in anticipation of who was doing the asking.

  Not bad.

  He was tall and kind of cute in a chunky cable-knit sweater and skinny jeans. His la
nky colorless hair was pulled back off his face into a ponytail, giving him the air of an Eighteenth Century nobleman. Granted, he was more Edward Ferrars than Mr. Darcy, but she was totally down with that.

  “Absolutely,” Charlie said. She looked at him with renewed interest.

  He could be a poet or musician.

  With a lifetime of unemployment in his future? No, thank you. Try again.

  Maybe he’s an architect. Together they could fix up one of those beautiful old homes on Sixth Street and have six kids.

  Whoa! Way too many kids.

  A veterinarian? That’s it! Yes. Puppies. You can never have too many puppies. Charlie’s imagination was a brave and brilliant thing.

  “What are you looking for?” Charlie asked, facing her future husband with a cheerful smile.

  “A blue book,” he said.

  “Blue?” she asked.

  “Yes. I saw it in the bookstore. It has blue covers.”

  Screeech!

  The Ed Sheeran ballad accompanying Charlie’s romantic daydream came to a dramatic and premature end.

  Maybe she was a book snob, but the guy coming to rescue her from her sex-free existence in the Good Harbor Public Library was not going to ask for his books by color as if he was in the paint section of Home Depot.

  “I think the author’s name starts with an ‘M’,” he added.

  Yes. Well, that narrows it down.

  “Do you know what it was about?”

  “A romance novelist tortured by a fan into changing the ending of a book,” he said.

  “It’s by Stephen King with a ‘K’.” Charlie said. Her response sounded automated and her tone a little too sharp.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure the author’s name started with an ‘M’.”

  “It’s called Misery,” she emphasized the ‘M’ with her pressed lips. “There were at least three copies last week in 813: American Fiction. Third floor stacks.”

  “Seriously?” He looked at Charlie as if she was his dream come true. Some kind of book angel. “You don’t have to check a computer? You know where all the books in the library are by heart?”

  “Yes,” Charlie said with a tight smile. “I’m a professional. You can take the elevator to the third floor or use the staircase in the lobby.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

  As if.

  Charlie doubted any copies of Misery were actually listed in the online catalogue, and it was all her fault.

  “Charlie?” The headset crackled to life. Mia’s voice had an edge. “One of the toilets in the third floor ladies’ room exploded.”

  Fuuuuhhhhhdge!

  “How bad is it?” she asked, picturing Niagara Falls rushing down the stairs, flooding the lobby and washing the library's patrons down the hill into the harbor. Maybe they could schedule tours of the waterfall to raise funds to buy new books.

  “We have it confined to one stall.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I’m on my way,” Charlie said. “Effie? Are you there?”

  “This is Effie, your Time-Life operator...”

  “Can you call a plumber, and see if they can send someone over? Right now?”

  “Will do.”

  Charlie took the stairs from the basement up to the lobby two at a time. Her heels clicking on the marble tiles, she was surprised when she found no one was staffing the Information Desk. Overwhelmed with panic, she didn’t take the time to set down the books in her arms. She ran across the lobby and started up the elegant curving staircase without looking up. When she reached the top step, she was startled when Hank Carter appeared as if out of one of her daydreams.

  Whoa!

  Charlie teetered back on her heels and the too-tall stack of books she had in her arms went flying. Hank rushed forward and pulled Charlie toward him. She attempted to gain control over the books in her arms.

  It was useless.

  The books tumbled into the air. Some fell at their feet. Some flopped down the stairs. Some went over the banister. Charlie caught sight of the last of them doing a three-story suicide drop to the lobby in the main entry.

  Hank reached out and steadied Charlie with his hand on her elbow. She teetered backward, and his hand slipped, his fingers cupping her left breast. So aware of his touch, her nipple immediately plumped with the contact, and her cheeks turned red. She realized Hank’s hand was on her breast only seconds before he released it like a hot potato.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. His lips so close to her ear, she felt a puff of breath when he spoke.

  His other hand circled Charlie’s waist, pulling her close to him, so she didn’t tumble down the stairs. A jolt of sexual electricity sizzled through her body as Hank pressed her against his long rock-hard body. He cradled her head against his chest to shield her from the last of the falling books.

  Charlie closed her eyes and silently wished for a magic charm to create an unending waterfall of books. She wanted to stay this close to Hank indefinitely. Overwhelmed by his scent: a crazy blend of woodsy aftershave and clean laundry, she was completely intoxicated. Charlie took a deep breath. He smelled so good.

  I bet you look good naked. I bet you look really good in absolutely nothing at all.

  Charlie looked up at his face. Hank’s lips were inches from hers. Their breath shared the same space. She parted her lips secretly hoping the next sensation would be his kiss. His eyes dropped to the deep-vee cut of her T-shirt.

  Sweet Baby James! Hank was checking out my boobage.

  Her body temperature shot up by a million degrees. Her face turned the same color as Elmo.

  A Muppet. Seriously?

  You couldn’t think of a red that’s actually sexy or seductive?

  Like Ferrari red? Candy apple red?

  Omigod! Food? Seriously?

  You’re thinking about food at a time like this?

  Someone shouted something from the main floor, but Charlie’s sex-starved brain couldn’t comprehend the words, and nothing else seemed to matter in that moment but Hank’s bright blue eyes. And the way he looked at her.

  “We’re fine,” Hank called down. His eyes never left hers. “You are okay, aren’t you?” His voice was a deep rumble in his chest.

  “Yes,” she said softly. She had a one-second flash fantasy of what it would be like to be tangled in sheets with him.

  Naked.

  Underneath him.

  Naked.

  His warm flesh covering hers.

  Her skin tingled and her heart raced. She took a deep breath and forced herself to step away from Hank.

  Step away from ‘The Hank’. Do not touch your hot and totally out of your league next-door neighbor.

  Hank let Charlie go, but held onto her shoulders until she was steady on her feet.

  “I’m fine. Really.” Charlie said. “I’m glad…To feel you. And to see you. It’s so hard. And you’re back. And I’m front...”

  Please, someone shoot me now.

  Or knock me out with drugs.

  Or a blunt instrument.

  I really don’t care. Just make me stop talking. Or make me make sense. Or some combination of the two that isn’t so goddamn embarrassing.

  Hank’s eyes glimmered with mirth. Charlie felt the heat sneaking into her cheeks. She was sure they were bright red.

  He knows I’ve been thinking about him naked. Oh god, he knows.

  ***

  Five seconds.

  Hank Carter figured it was all he had before Charlie realized the hard ridge pressed against her belly was his erection. He closed his eyes and silently wished for more self-control, but he knew he didn’t any when it came to Charlie.

  Especially with her soft curves pressed into the hard muscles, against his body. She was so sweet and alluring. She’d been the star of his fantasies on many occasions. He wanted to start at the top of her and lick his way down to her toes. His brain was sending out messages to his dick like it was the Houston Space Center.

  We have lift-off,
and we are good to go...

  When he wrapped his hands around her waist with his fingers balanced on top of the curve of her ass. He knew he couldn’t hold her close for long. He’d popped a boner in the library. Having a semi in the library had to be against the rules.

  He carefully took a step away from Charlie, silently wishing she didn’t smell so delicious. She smelled like sugar cookies. Her lips probably taste of sugar and spice and everything nice.

  “Hank! What are you doing here?” Charlie asked.

  “Effie called. She said a toilet overflowed. I’ve got to run out to my truck and get some equipment so I can snake out the line.”

  “I thought you worked construction with your dad,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah,” Hank said, pausing as if searching for the right words. “Earl Easterling offered me...a better...opportunity, so I’m working for them in their service division. I’m a handyman for hire now. At your service.”

  “Thanks for coming so fast. Do you think you can fix it?”

  “Yep. I think I’ve already got a handle on it, but to be completely honest, I don’t think the plumbing in this old castle is going to make it much longer.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Charlie said. “Katrina is constantly complaining to the Board of Directors about the costs of heating this beautiful old library. Her only solution is to sell off the building and build something smaller and more energy efficient at the government center on the outskirts of town.”

  “I learned to read during Effie’s Story Time on the second floor,” Hank said. “It breaks my heart to think of it being used for anything but a library.”

  “Me, too,” she said. “But Katrina would like to ‘streamline’ the staff, by which she means the library staff would consist of her royal highness and a bunch of high school kids.”

  “Doesn’t sound right to me,” Hank said.

  “Me either. Would you be able to give me an estimate of what it might cost to update the plumbing and the community rooms on the first floor?” Charlie asked. “Just a ballpark. I’m prepping a report to give to Katrina.”