The Lawman's Librarian

by Rebecca Brochu

  Nick’s left sitting stunned on the bench, one boot on and one off, his hand raised to his cheek and a stupidly dazed smile on his face.

  Fuck coal. Lana’s getting goddamn diamonds for Christmas. Nick will mine them with his fucking teeth if he has to.

  Chapter Three

  It’s Friday afternoon, and Nick has bullied his best deputy Dwayne into taking the rest of his shift. Well, he prefers to think that he bullied him into taking it, but in truth Dwayne had shown up around 2:30 and had ushered Nick out of his office and into his car with an amused grin on his face. He’d patted Nick on the back with one large hand, told him he’d put in for tonight in the pool and then told Nick to make him proud.

  Nick had flipped him off, but Dwayne had laughed loudly and waved Nick off like he was a child. He’d pouted the entire ride home, although he maintains that it was more of a manly moue of disappointment in regards to everything his deputy chose to be. Still he’d forgotten all about Dwayne’s nonsense as soon as he’d hit his driveway and the nerves had reared up to hit him full force in the chest.

  This was it. This was his chance, the chance he’d always wanted. The one he’d been too afraid to take in high school when Peter had been all shy, sweet smiles and god awful sweater vests and Nick had wanted to wrap him in his letterman jacket and cuddle him. He’d wanted to do all sorts of dirty, possibly illegal things with him, but he’d wanted to cuddle with him too.

  So that brings him to where he is now, standing in front of his closet with basically everything he owns strewed around the room. There’s even a shirt hanging from the ceiling fan, and he’s pretty sure one of his shoes managed to fly into the bathroom. He just hopes it didn’t land in the toilet.

  The point is that he has no idea what to wear, which is not a dilemma he’s ever been faced with before. He’s not the type of guy to fuss about his clothes, but he knows that tonight’s way beyond important. Like rest of his life important. The difference between him maybe possibly starting a relationship with the librarian of his dreams and him getting a dog and never leaving his house again important.

  Nick paces back and forth across the hard wood floor of his bedroom, teeth worrying at his thumb nail. He could just not go. He could call Peter, and of course he has his number; he’s had all of his numbers since junior high, which is both impressive and borderline creepy. He could call and say there was an emergency and cancel. Nick was the sheriff so Peter would probably understand. That way he could reschedule it for later on so he’ll have plenty of time to go shopping and buy something fucking decent to wear.

  There would be something he could do at the office, something appropriately emergency-like that he could use as an excuse. Something, anything. A cat in a tree, a lost puppy, a fire, zombies.

  Something.

  “You are by far the most pathetic grown man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, not to mention be related to. Seriously they are going to build a statue in honor of how pathetic you are right now.” It’s Lana, sounding far too amused with the fact that her older brother’s life is falling apart right before her eyes.

  Nick spins around, his free hand clutching at his towel as he turns wild eyes onto his sister in desperate hope.

  “Lana! Thank you, God! Quick, go run somewhere and start a fire!” He’s desperate, and she’s fond of matches, so maybe this will work out after all. Unfortunately she just stares at him like he’s finally gone around the bend and maybe he has.

  “Why in the hell would I start a fire, Nicky?” She seems genuinely curious.

  “Because I have nothing to wear, Lana! Go start a fire because I have no clothes! Why do you have to be so difficult?” Nick’s desperate enough to explain because she needs to understand his logic.

  Lana bursts out laughing, her hair swinging forward to cover her face as she doubles over and clutches at her stomach. Nick sniffs at her in derision as she practically howls with mirth instead of doing something that any real little sister would do for her big brother. If she really loved him, she’d be outside right now with some newspaper and a book of matches.

  “Oh, big brother, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I don’t have your dismal love life to keep me amused anymore.” She’s wiping legitimate tears from her green eyes when she finally straightens and pushes her dark hair out of her face.

  “This isn’t funny, LaLa.” He whines at her, using the nickname he’s always had for her since she insists on calling him Nicky.

  “No, Nicky, this went beyond funny years ago, now it’s just hilarious.” She’s moving through his room then, picking up and tossing aside pieces of clothes like she has a purpose. Finally she makes a noise of approval and then she’s thrusting a black turtleneck and a pair of grey slacks in his hand and telling him to change as she turns her back on him and taps her foot impatiently.

  Nick only hesitates for a second, but then he drops his towel and pulls the clothes on swiftly. His zipper’s only just been pulled up when she spins around and runs a critical eye over him. He scrubs a hand over his freshly shaven jaw and tries not to fidget. LaLa’s a wolverine, and she senses weakness like sharks sense blood. He’s half convinced her eyesight’s based on movement like a T-Rex.

  She darts into his bathroom after a moment and returns with a bottle of gel and a confused look on her face.

  “Nicky, why’s there a shoe in your toilet?” She takes one look at the blush on his face and laughs again before she waves the question off and pours some gel into her hand.

  She spikes his hair just a bit, not enough to make it hard or untouchable, but just enough to give it some character. She steps back and looks him up and down for a moment, tells him the hair brings attention to his eyes and then slaps him roughly on the back. She digs into her pocket and dangles his keys in front of his face.

  “You left these in the front door, Nicky, and I thought you might want them. Now go get your man and don’t come home without a second date or his boxers in your pocket. Preferably both.”

  “I hate you so much, LaLa.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m the greatest and you know it.”

  “Yeah, you kind of are.” Nick smiles then and blows out a sigh before he dips down and kisses her lightly on the cheek. He takes the keys from her hand and moves out of his room and towards the front door, LaLa trailing behind him the entire way. When he gets to the front door, his hands are shaking once again and his stomach is churning, but he squares his shoulders and looks his sister in the eye.

  “Wish me luck, LaLa.”

  “You don’t need it, Nicky. He’s gonna love you.” She smiles sweetly at him, green eyes alight with warmth and happiness for him.

  Nick grins back and then turns and heads out the front door. It’s now or never.

  Chapter Four

  Nick’s nervous and sweating lightly, and all he can do is hope to God that he doesn’t smell when he pulls up in front of Peter’s apartment complex. It’s a nice enough place, but right now it feels like BuckinghamPalace and Nick has an appointment with The Queen because it’s unrealistically intimidating and he’s beyond nervous. Although calling Peter ‘The Queen’ even in his head is a thing that needs to never happen again.

  Ever.

  He forces himself to get out of his car and to walk up to the front of the building and press the intercom button that has Peter’s name labeled beside it in neat handwriting. The slash of Peter’s ‘K’ is kind of entrancing because it’s so bold and sharp, and he can’t help but wonder how that’s going to relate to the way Peter does other things. Nick really needs to have his head examined or something because he’s contemplating the attractiveness of letters now and that’s wrong on so many levels.

  “Yes?” Peter’s voice sounds over the intercom, and Nick freezes for a second like he always does when confronted with anything to do with Peter.

  “Ah. It’s me … um Nick. Nick Grey. Here for our date?” Nick slams the heel of his palm into his forehead at how idiotic he knows he sounds
. Peter just chuckles lightly at him through the speaker.

  “I’ll be down in a minute, Nick. Just wait there for me.” Peter clicks off the intercom, and Nick feels something inside of him simultaneously relax and tense. It relaxes because Peter hasn’t called off their date even if Nick sounds like an idiot every time he’s within two foot of him, and it tenses because Peter hasn’t called off their date.

  He’s shuffling his feet and fiddling with his cuffs when he hears the door behind him buzz, and he turns with a wide delighted smile on his face. It drops off immediately and is replaced with what he knows has to be a look of horror before he manages to smooth his face out into an expression of bland pleasantness. Standing in front of him is his worst nightmare.

  Sadie McGuire.

  She’s dressed to the nines, bottle red hair swept back and up, and her long black dress looks like it was painted on. She’s an attractive woman, beautiful really, but she has the personality of a harpy and terrifies the shit out of Nick. She’s eyeing him like a hawk now, and he can’t help the way he takes a step back and away from her. He might be the sheriff and might be trained to handle all kinds of situations, but he was also trained to know when retreat was the intelligent option. With Sadie McGuire retreat is the only option.

  “Sheriff Grey, you look … even more handsome than you normally do today. What’s the special occasion?” She’s practically purring at him and stalking closer on her tall heels, heels that he’s sure are a moving violation somewhere in the world, and he wonders absently if he should write her a ticket for reckless walking.

  “I ah … I have a date. Yeah, I’m waiting on my date.” He takes another step back and briefly regrets leaving his back up gun in the car. Maybe he should carry at all times now in case he gets cornered by overly amorous banking associates?

  “Your date? And who might that be?” Her voice is cold enough to refreeze melting snow, and Nick is actually sort of more terrified than normal, but then he remembers that he has a date with Peter and he gathers himself quickly. There’s no way he’ll be able to impress the librarian if he comes outside and sees Nick cowering in front of Sadie.

  “I’m going out with Peter. Peter DeKell.” He knows that same dopey grin is back on his face, but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

  “The librarian?” She sounds incredulous.

  “Yeah. I asked him out earlier this week.” He can’t help the way he mutters ‘finally’ under his breath, but he can tell from the way her frown goes severe that she hears him anyways.

  “I see.”

  “He should be down any moment now so it was nice talking to you, Miss McGuire, but I’m gonna just…” Nick trails off and looks meaningfully towards the door in the hopes that she’ll get the hint and realize that he wants to wait for Peter to come down alone.

  He’s completely surprised when she moves closer to him, totally invading his personal space, and clamps a boney hand down on his shoulder. Before he has the chance to extract himself from her grip and move away her mouth is on his, lipstick smearing sticky across his skin. Nick freezes for a second in pure shock and then he jerks his head back and away from her and reaches up to grab her hand to sling it off of his shoulder.

  His fingers are wrapped around her wrist when he hears a sort of wounded noise behind him, and he feels his blood turn to ice in his veins. This cannot be happening to him.

  Nick turns his head in slow motion and of course, of fucking course, Peter’s standing there with an injured expression on his face that’s icing over into anger even as Nick watches. He flies into action then, trying frantically to head off the conclusion he can see forming in Peter’s eyes. Nick shoves Sadie away from him, not caring about the way she teeters dangerously on her heels before she regains her balance. He moves towards Peter but stops and throws his hands up in a gesture of peace when the normally mild mannered librarian glares dangerously at him.

  “Peter, this isn’t what it looks like. I know that sounds cliché but please believe me.” He’s two steps away from begging, three from throwing himself onto his knees and pleading with Peter to believe him.

  “So I didn’t walk out of my apartment to meet you for our date, the date you asked for by the way, only to see Sadie McGuire plastered to you in the middle of the sidewalk?” Nick’s never heard Peter sounds so cold and vicious, and it’s distractingly hot. But Nick for once has more important things to focus on besides how much he wants to sex Peter up.

  “Well, technically yes, but it wasn’t like that!” He knows it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it’s out of his mouth, but he can’t take the words back. So instead he turns towards Sadie, who’s still watching the entire situation with a slightly pleased expression on her face. The very sight of it pisses Nick off.

  “Tell him, Sadie! Tell him it wasn’t like that!”

  “Well, it was certainly like that for me, and I’m sure if you give me a few minutes I could make you like it too.” She sounds entirely too sure of herself, and Nick gapes at her openly because he can’t believe she said that. Does she know what she’s doing? He takes another look at her satisfied smile and realizes that she does.

  Peter’s face is growing colder by the second, and Nick can see that he’s clinching his fingers around the keys that are still in his hand. Nick moves forward another step and reaches out to lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder, but he’s met with a stinging slap to his knuckles that has him recoiling instantly.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Peter?” Nick damn near whimpers because this is all going so terribly and Nick’s not good with words and Peter doesn’t want to listen.

  “I think you need to leave, Sheriff. You and Miss McGuire probably have a lot to discuss.” Peter turns and uses his key to get back inside of the building, slamming the door behind him and leaving Nick to stare at his retreating back in horror.

  When Peter’s out of sight, Nick turns and stares at Sadie’s smug face in disbelief. This is all her fault, her and her devious hands and trespassing mouth. If he weren’t the sheriff he’d kill her. Hell, he might still kill her and get away with it because like he said, he’s the sheriff.

  “Why in the name of all that is holy would you do something like that?” He’s genuinely curious, and that’s the only thing that’s keeping his rage bubbling just below the surface.

  “I want you.” She says it bluntly, but she’s actually looking hesitant for the first time ever.

  “That doesn’t give you the right to assault me, Sadie! That doesn’t give you the right to do what you just did. Did you ever stop and think that maybe I don’t want you?” He knows his tone is harsh and biting, but what she’s done is borderline unforgivable.

  “I … I just thought that you did. After Christmas last year I thought that we could …” She’s teary eyed and even though Nick is still pissed he feels himself deflate a bit at the sight of her.

  “It was one kiss, one kiss under the mistletoe that I was forced under by my sister. Mistletoe that she told me she specifically planted in an attempt to get me to finally make a move on Peter. The same Peter who you’ve managed to ruin what is likely to be my only chance with him ever.”

  “I didn’t realize. I mean, I didn’t know that you ... I’m sorry.” Nick’s a little hard pressed to believe that she wasn’t aware of the fact that he’s been pining after Peter, but she actually looks soft and sincere.

  “Look, just go. Go do whatever it was you were going to do before all of this.” He waves a hand vaguely in the opposite direction.

  “Is there anything I can do?” She sounds tentative.

  “No, I’m fairly sure you’ve done enough already.” Nick stares at her and feels a small twinge of satisfaction when she grimaces and turns to walk towards her car.

  Nick scrubs his palms across his face and then throws his shoulders back and marches towards the door to the complex. He presses the button for Peter’s intercom, feeling like he’s about to go to war. Peter doesn’t answer on the first
call so he tries again, and this time he gets a response.

  “What?” Peter snaps across the slightly static filled line.

  “Peter, please give me a chance to explain!” Nick blurts it out, heart pounding in his chest.

  “Go away, Sheriff.” Peter clicks the intercom off without another word, and Nick resists the urge to scream. Instead he slams his finger back down on the button, determined to get Peter to listen to him.

  Nick buzzes on and off for the next hour or so until Peter finally answers again.

  “If you don’t go away right now I’m going to call the Sheriff’s department and tell them that you’re harassing me. Don’t think I won’t do it either.”

  Nick has no choice but to slink off after that, tail tucked firmly between his legs. The last thing he needs is the rest of the department showing up to witness his humiliation and utter inability to succeed first hand. And he knows they’d come, they’d come with popcorn and hot chocolate, and then would probably stand around and critique the whole situation.

  It looks like he might just need to go ahead and buy that puppy after all because it doesn’t look like he’s ever going to get his guy.

  Chapter Five

  News travels appallingly fast in Sleepy Crescent

  . Nick goes home, showers and scrubs at his mouth until his skin is raw and numb and then he proceeds to spend his weekend rip-roaring drunk. He’s eternally thankful that Mr. Hankin actually got better because now Nick doesn’t have to go to the mall anymore and swelter in that horrible velvet suit. Although he kind of wishes he did still have to go because then maybe he’d get the chance to corner Peter.