Heels

by Megan Erickson

Four

  Monday on the way to work, I was still riding a high of my night with Luke. After eating Chinese, we’d fallen asleep, me wrapped around him, my head on his chest. When we woke, I made him pancakes, and then he headed out, saying he had some things to do.

  I spent the rest of Sunday in a happy state of bliss. I was still in that blissful state on the drive to work and wondered how long it would last.

  My phone rang and I sighed. I’d avoided my sister’s calls all day yesterday, sending texts that I was busy. I wasn’t really busy, but I didn’t want anything to take me out of my dream world. But today was Monday, and it was back to the real world, and so I’d take my damn sister’s phone call.

  I stopped at a red light and held my cell up to my ear. “Hello, dear sister.”

  “Oh, so now she’s good enough to take my call. I see how it is.”

  “I said I was busy yesterday.”

  “Busy doing what? How long did that boy stay?”

  We were getting right into it. “Not long after breakfast.”

  “Ooh ho ho, so he did spend the night.”

  Reva was going to get every last detail out of me, so it was only efficient to get it out of the way. “We took an Uber home. We had fantastic sex. He said, and I quote, that ‘any man worth a damn who didn’t get down on his knees every night and be glad he had you in his bed is a fucking fool.’ I might have paraphrased slightly because I think he had more swear words in there. He spent the night, then we woke up, and I made him pancakes, and then he headed out. Oh, and he says he wants to see me again.”

  I finished talking and waited for Reva’s response. When none came, just silence, I glanced at my phone to make sure the call didn’t drop. But nope, call was still active. I waited a few more seconds before querying, “Uh, hello?”

  “Uh,” came the response. From my sister. The motormouth.

  “Reva? Why aren’t you talking? You always talk.”

  Another beat of silence, then her voice came softly. “He said all that to you?”

  Oh no, the soft voice. Damnit, she’d been hitting me with that a lot lately. “Yeah. He said other nice things too. He…really loves my body. My curves. And my heels.” I took a sip of my coffee from my thermos in the center console.

  “I thought…” she began. “ I mean, I…”

  I waited her out, not knowing where she was going with this, but a little scared she’d tell me that this was too good to be true, that he was feeding me lines because I showed I was an easy lay, and he knew he could hit it again—

  “I thought this would be a good for you to start working your way to putting yourself out there again,” she finally said. “I didn’t expect this to happen. I’m not going to question his genuineness, because that’s on you to determine. So my concern is for you. What does your gut say? Does this feel fast?”

  “Of course it’s fast,” I said. “And I know I’ve only known him for… well about twelve hours or so, but I get the impression this is how he is. He’s fast. In everything he does. He talks fast, he thinks fast. He’s just… fast. And he seems to go a lot on instinct. He said he fully intended it to be one night. Not even overnight. Just sex and then he’d bail, but he changed his mind. And he didn’t quibble. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man like him.”

  “I think I like that for you,” Reva said. “You’re cautious, especially after Tim. You could use some spontaneity.”

  “He’s so unlike Tim, not that I want to compare. He’s confident. So sure of himself.”

  “Well Tim is an insecure asshole and that’s why he had to knock you down. It’s not hard to look like a better man than him, honey.”

  “I know. And I told Luke I’d like to try to move a bit slower now. And he seemed okay with that. Even though I’m not really sure I know what I mean by slow. I don’t think he knows the meaning either.”

  “It’s okay to feel each other out now. Do you think…forgive me for asking this, but you think he means it? Seeing you again?”

  “I’m not sure why he’d lie. I didn’t ask him to make me any promises. And you saw him, like he’d have a hard time getting laid by literally any single female in this town. Some males too. Why bother lying?”

  “Because men are trash?”

  “Mark isn’t trash.”

  “All men are trash until a good woman burns the garbage out of them.”

  “Reva: Always at the ready with a quotable statement.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  I pulled into the library parking lot. “Okay, well as much as I’d love to hear more uplifting statements about men, I just got to work.”

  “Okay, before you go, just tell me. You feeling good? Anxious?”

  I turned off my car and leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes momentarily. “I’m good, Reva. Even if he never contacts me again, what we had this weekend has given me a boost of confidence.”

  “That’s my girl. I’ll be over tonight with dinner. Chicken caesar from Victor’s?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay, I gotta go too. Meeting soon. Love ya!”

  “Love you too.”

  The call disconnected, and I dropped my cell into my purse. Reva was a force, and as a long-time stylist at the most popular local salon, she knew everyone and everything.

  I gathered my things, gulping down the last of my coffee, then walked briskly across the parking lot to the library, my heels clicking on the cracked pavement.

  Gentry Public Library was a small one-story building at the edge of town. It used to be in a trailer, but when I was a teenager, the community got together to buy a former antique shop and upgraded the library. I was first hired as an assistant and then took over as the head librarian when my predecessor retired. Mabel Harrison now lived in a fifty-five plus community in Lexington.

  So it was me and my assistant Verne Reston—a retired police officer who worked for a low salary and his love of books. We had several volunteers as well. My income wasn’t anything to write home about, but living in Gentry had its perks and one of those was the low cost of living.

  I unlocked the doors and headed inside. There was something about the library first thing in the morning. A whole day stretched ahead where anything could happen, any subject could be learned, a new story could be read, and it was all here, in this building.

  I’d always wanted to be a librarian. I loved seeing the joy on children’s faces when they became engaged in a book. And just the smell…I inhaled deeply. Just the smell of books made me happy.

  I turned on all the lights, then started up the computer behind the desk, as well as those in the small computer room. I’d campaigned for months to get the funds to upgrade the PCs—I’d held bake sales and even a bachelor auction. It’d been a lot of work, but now we had brand new Macs.

  I heard the front door open and close. Verne’s deep voice followed. “It’s me!”

  I looked up from the desk. “Hey, Verne.”

  He ambled toward me, wearing a pair of slacks held up with red suspenders and a white shirt. “Hey sweetheart. How are ya today?”

  “Good.” I glanced at the clock. “I’m sure the kids will start showing up soon.” Preschool story hour was scheduled to start in about a half hour. Today I’d be reading “The Book with No Pictures” which was my absolute favorite to read. I’d practiced all the voices and faces I’d make last week and couldn’t wait to see how the children would react.

  He waved me off the chair. “Go on and get your coffee and set up. I got the desk covered.”

  I made a quick trip to the break room to get another coffee, then I started to set up the story time corner. I’d spent a lot of time making this just right. I’d commissioned a local artist to paint a mural on the walls of a diverse group of children playing around a tree—some were climbing it while others sat on the grass around it. I picked a fluffy carpet for the floor and a fancy wing-backed chair I’d scored super cheap at an antique shop—then reupholstered it myself with a tacky mod-print. She
lves of children’s books sectioned off the area, making it super cozy.

  By the time I was finished setting everything up, children had begun to arrive, their voices filling the library. Some parents milled about while others watched as I sat in my multi-colored chair and held court. For a Monday, the group was large—about twelve kids ranging in age from two to five.

  “Who’s ready to read a book with no pictures?” I asked.

  “Booo,” said a little boy in front. He was new; I’d never seen him before. Elsie, a little girl whose mother graduated with my sister, made a face and gave me a thumbs down.

  I laughed, knowing I’d get that reaction. “Okay, well how about this? If you don’t laugh, then afterward, I’ll give you lollipop. But if you laugh, then you have to give me a high five or a thumbs up when I’m finished. Deal?”

  “Deal!” shouted the candy fiends.

  Well, I won. Every single kid laughed as I made faces and silly sounds and by the time the book was over, they were all giggling flushed messes who high-fived me and flashed thumbs up. I gave them lollipops anyway.

  Most of them left shortly after, although a few families still milled about. Elsie trotted over to me, pulling her mother along behind her. “Thank you for the book, Miss Sam,” Elsie said in her adorable little girl voice.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Elsie.” I placed my hands on my hips. “So you ended up liking it after all?”

  She nodded enthusiastically and tugged at the lacy hem of her dress. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well I’m glad. It’s one of my favorite books.”

  Christine stepped forward. “Thanks, Sam. We look forward to this every week.”

  “You might not believe me, but I do too.”

  “Oh, I can tell you do,” Christine said. “You’re a joy to watch.”

  I was struck a little speechless for a few seconds. Christine wasn’t known to hand out compliments so freely. “Well thank you.”

  “Have a good day,” she said.

  “By Miss Sam!” Elsie waved to me, and then followed her mother out the front door. I watched them go, and took one of those stop-and-smell-the-roses moments, to appreciate what I did in life, and how it made a difference in the lives of kids like Elsie.

  My read-aloud duty was over, but my librarian day was just beginning. I returned to the desk to find Verne processing the books in the return bin. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard kids laugh that loud during story time.”

  “It’s a pretty silly book.” I pulled a cart over and began to load it the books Verne handed to me so I could return them to the shelves. “So did you have a good weekend?”

  “Mm-hmm. Sounds like you did, too,” he murmured.

  I glanced up. “What?”

  “Heard you and that sister of yours tore up Blue Eagle for her bachelorette party.”

  Well this was a downside to small-town living. “We had a nice time.”

  He pursed his lips, bushy white eyebrows turned in. “Mmm hmmm.”

  “Something you want to say, Verne?”

  “Heard some other things too.” His tone wasn’t light, and his light eyes assessed me.

  The book he handed me slipped through my fingers and thumped on the ground. My elation from the weekend was quickly soured. I wasn’t in the mood to be fathered by Verne, but the man was going to do it regardless. I bent down to pick up the book. “Oh yeah?”

  “You know who else heard?”

  I busied myself alphabetizing the books on the cart, not wanted to look at Verne. “Who?”

  “That ex of yours.”

  I would never cease to be amazed at how fast word traveled. “And why is that my concern? Divorce is final.”

  “Man like that. He doesn’t like to lose.”

  “Well, we all lose things,” I was getting irritated, not at Verne, but at the thought of Tim still caring about what I did.

  “It’s only a warning, honey,” Verne held my gaze.

  “A warning for what?”

  “A warning to watch out for him.”

  I frowned. “I’m not scared of Tim.”

  Verne sighed. At sixty-seven, he was still a large man with broad shoulders. “Not talking about Tim. Talking about that Luke fellow. He was in here this morning, you know.”

  My body locked. “I’m sorry?”

  “Came in, watched you read for a bit, then left.”

  I glanced around, peering down the aisles. “He left? Are you sure? He might still—”

  “Saw him leave, Sam.”

  Verne’s voice halted my searching. Disappointment hit me swift. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen him. Then my words to my sister came back to me and my confidence that I’d be okay if Luke never spoke to me again. At the time I’d been telling the truth. I thought I’d be fine. Now I knew that I was lying to myself. I wanted to hear from him again. I wanted to see him. Shit.

  I wanted to know if he’d said anything to Verne, but I didn’t ask, because I didn’t want to look desperate. So I grabbed the last of the return books and put it on the cart. “Okay, well thanks for letting me know. I’m going to go put these back on the shelves before lunch.”

  “Sam.” Verne was overstepping, but then that was what everyone did in this town.

  “Look—” I began.

  “I’m a former police officer,” he said, cutting me off. “We get a feel for people. My feel for him is that he’s got some demons in his past.”

  “Don’t we all?” My voice snapped more than I meant to. My heart pounded and my hands were sweating.

  Verne didn’t back down. “Not like the ones he’s got.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “I don’t think you do either.”

  Touché. “Verne, I appreciate the warning, but I’m a big girl.”

  “I’ve known you and your sister for your whole lives. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I didn’t watch out for you.”

  “But that’s not your job.”

  He handed over the last book. “I know it’s not. But I’m doing it anyway. Please don’t be cross with me, Samantha.”

  I dropped the last book on the cart as a headache began to bloom behind my eyes. “I need to go put these books away.”

  “Sam—”

  “Thank you, Verne. For processing these. And for your concern.” I was being short with him, but it wasn’t really him I was angry with. He had burst my bliss bubble, but I was kidding myself if I thought it would last forever. Everyone in this town would be suspicious of newcomers and as the town librarian, I was kind of like Gentry’s sweetheart. Especially after everyone saw how Tim treated me.

  “Sure, Sam.” He leaned back in his chair. “Ruby made her potato salad. There’s some in the fridge in the kitchen for you. She labeled it with your name.”

  See, now how could I stay mad when he gave me a peace offering of his wife’s famous, award-winning homemade potato salad? “I’m sure I’ll have some at lunch. Thank her for me.”

  Verne smiled. “Of course.”

  I wheeled the cart away as fast as I could. There were always a lot of books in the return box over the weekend so I had a full cart. All of that was good, because this would keep me busy. Verne’s warning rang in my head along with so many questions.

  Why had Luke come in? Why hadn’t he stayed? Maybe he had to get to work. Right. That was probably it. Crap, here I was analyzing everything. This was the opposite of slow and uncomplicated. I focused on my task and tried to forget about Luke. Maybe watching me make silly faces and weird sounds was a turn-off. Which, if that was the case… well, I was a librarian. This was what I did. So if that bothered him, then too bad. I was too set in my ways to change.

  Yet he treated me like a queen. I paused as I placed a crime drama back on the shelf. The problem with Verne’s warning was that I knew it. First, I’d seen the numerous scars on Luke’s body. I’d felt some too. I suspected military, but nothing about Luke made me think he’d served. So where would he have earned those
scars? He smiled a lot, but there was so much working behind those eyes, an intelligence and awareness that scared me a bit.

  He was a man I wasn’t altogether prepared for and while I stood alone in the back of a nearly empty library, it occurred to me that I was maybe in way over my head, reaching for a man who was out of my league. Maybe it was best he left. Maybe it would be best if this ended altogether. My movements slowed as I wheeled the cart to the next aisle. Hell, if I survived Tim, I could survive anything. Right?

  Five

  By the time the library cart was empty, I was at the back of the library and my stomach was starting to growl. I smelled food, and wondered what leftovers Verne’s wife had given him today. My peanut butter and jelly was going to pale in comparison to whatever that was that smelled freaking delicious.

  I heard the rustle of paper then arms wrapped around me. A startled squeak left my mouth just as lips brushed my ear, followed by a smooth male voice. “Hey, Peaches.”

  I craned my neck over my shoulder to see Luke’s grinning face. He let go of me and I spun around to find a paper bag in my face. “Lunch,” he announced.

  The bag was from Greta’s, a deli in town that made outrageously delicious sandwiches all named after Kentucky wildlife. I peeked into the bag and knew which sandwich was in there just based on smell alone. Hot ham and cheese with Dijon mustard on toasted marbled rye. It was my favorite. “The Cardinal.” I looked up at a smirking Luke in awe. “How did you know this was my favorite?”

  “Small town.” He leaned against a bookcase and tongued a toothpick in his mouth. “And everyone knows the town librarian, so Greta knew right away what you always order.”

  He looked good, and smelled a bit like grease. He wore stained boots, a worn pair of jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was mussed, and when he angled his hips, I saw an old ball cap shoved in the back pocket of his jeans. He was here. In my library. Taking up space with his body and smile and wicked charm. And he’d brought me lunch.

  “I—” I glanced down at the bag, then back at him. “Thank you. This is unexpected.”

  “Of course it is. It’s a surprise.” He gestured toward the story time corner with a nod of his head. “I was here earlier but you were busy. Watched you for a bit but I had to get to work.”