by Olivia Dade
“Grace Martinez, manager of the Orchard Park Library.”
Grace waved from her wheelchair, acknowledging the applause and Grant’s smile.
“Angela Burrowes—” Tina began.
Angie watched Grant’s face blanch as he realized he’d fucked a subordinate the previous night.
“—manager of the Battlefield Library.”
Penny patted her on the arm, and Angie pasted a smile on her face. She stood to the sound of her coworkers’ clapping and the sight of her lover’s horrified face, which was now turning a sickly greenish hue. The word REGRETS might as well have been emblazoned across his forehead when he looked at her.
Shit. So much for the afterglow.
9
Grant shook the hands of a few new colleagues, keeping the conversations cordial but brief. When they left, he turned to face the sea of folding chairs, searching for a particular head of shiny blond hair. And . . . there she was. From the raised dais, Grant could see Angie hustling toward the exit. Out of the conference room. Out of the Downtown Niceville Library, likely to make it to Battlefield in time for opening. Out of his life.
Okay, not entirely. But close enough. Out of his personal life, that was for sure.
The thought hit him like a wallop to the stomach, just as it had a few minutes ago. The realization that the woman he’d mooned over last night and this morning now worked under his supervision . . . it had sickened him. Literally. The abrupt plunge into misery from the high of his previous elation had induced actual vertigo. It’d hit him so hard that first time, he’d fought the urge to vomit in front of a hundred or so of his new colleagues. Even now, nausea churned in his stomach and made his head swim.
While getting ready for work this morning, he’d whistled. Fucking whistled, for the first time since his childhood. The thought of seeing Angie again, holding her again, had erased his fatigue and buoyed him. He’d buzzed with anticipation and excitement, barely remembering to bring his notes with him to the meeting. The urge to text or call her had occupied his thoughts to a ridiculous degree. His work hadn’t consumed him, as it usually did. Thoughts of Angie had.
After Tina’s announcement, all feelings of buoyancy had vanished. He felt rooted to the wooden dais. Heavy, as if he’d transformed into a concrete statue of a man.
He tracked Angie through the crowd as she neared the door. She walked tall and straight-shouldered, greeting dozens of people with a laugh or a hug when they touched her arm or pulled her aside. Her fellow librarians clearly liked her. Not a surprise.
From this far away, he couldn’t hear whether she was faking her laughter or not. He couldn’t see whether the creases on her forehead and the pallor of her skin remained from her earlier shock at Tina’s announcement. He supposed he shouldn’t even search for signs of her unhappiness anymore. Her personal feelings were no longer his concern, although his instincts still clamored for him to eliminate anything that might cause her distress. Like, say, her new boss.
Tina laid a hand on Angie’s shoulder, halting her progress from the room. She and Angie talked briefly, with Angie shaking her head and gesturing toward the parking lot. When Tina spoke again, though, Angie nodded in agreement. She waved to the two women accompanying her—a tiny brunette and a young black woman—and turned back around. She and Tina walked toward the dais. Toward him.
As they grew closer, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. As Angie had noted only last night, Grant lied infrequently and unconvincingly. Always had. Now, though, his job depended on deception. Could he pretend he’d never lain happily ensconced between Angie’s thighs? Would Angie tell Tina what had happened between the two of them? Did Angie realize the precariousness of his position?
He didn’t know. But in a few short seconds, he would find out.
Tina gestured for him to come down from the dais, and he somehow managed to move his leaden feet. He gazed hopelessly at Angie’s lovely face. She showed no signs of any particular concern or distress—other than those lines on her pale forehead.
In typical Angie fashion, she took control of the moment. She met his eyes and held out her hand to him with a cheerful smile. Fake, but cheerful. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Peterson. I’m Angela Burrowes, manager of the Battlefield Library.”
He followed her lead, grateful for her discretion. “Please call me Grant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Angela.”
Angie’s hand in his felt stiff. Icy. Completely unlike the hand he’d held only hours ago.
As soon as she could, she broke the handshake. Her gaze focused somewhere to the left of his head, though the smile never slipped from her face. “Please call me Angie. As I told Tina, I need to get out to Battlefield so we can open on time. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon, though. Welcome to the”—her breath hitched a tiny bit—“family, Grant.”
“Grant will be traveling out to Battlefield later this afternoon to discuss his supervision of your branch,” Tina said. “You two need to set up a good time.”
After a cordial farewell to both of them, Tina departed.
The woman of his fantasies stood inches away, but she’d become unreachable in every meaningful way. Even though he felt starved for the sight of her, for her mere presence, he couldn’t bear to look at her for too long. He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt while he tried to figure out what to say, yanking out a loose thread with a tug of his fingers.
They stood in silence for a moment until, once again, Angie took the reins.
“Congratulations on getting the position, Grant. I can meet with you today sometime between two and four, if that works for you,” she said.
“Angie, I had no idea—”
“Don’t.” The corners of her wide mouth turned down, and her eyes became suspiciously bright. “You need to give me a few minutes to work through this. Come to the branch and we’ll talk then.”
“Okay,” he said, helpless to comfort her.
“Okay.” She turned away and headed for the exit again.
This time, only one person flagged her down. A tall, blond man in a sharp-looking suit and glasses. He put a hand on her arm and leaned into her. She didn’t try to evade him. Instead, she smiled and patted his hand. They chatted for a minute, their faces animated. Before she walked away, he pulled her into a two-armed hug that lasted for exactly four seconds. Grant knew. He counted.
Then he needed to count again, this time to stop himself from marching across the room, ripping that man’s arms off his annoyingly perfect body, and claiming Angie for his own in the most public way possible. He closed his eyes, suppressing a growl as he fought for composure.
She was his. His.
Not anymore, he reminded himself. If he wanted to keep his job, he needed to stand back and watch Angie smile at other men. More dashing men. Men who wouldn’t have to rein her in and threaten her job.
Oh, he knew about Angie. He hadn’t been told her name before this morning, but he understood why the library had hired him as the new director of the branches. The head of Human Resources, Winona, had devoted a notable chunk of his interview to one particular topic: how he’d deal with a headstrong branch manager. Immediately after his hiring, Tina had scheduled a meeting to explain his responsibilities. Specifically, his responsibilities concerning the manager of the Battlefield Library. Angie, as he now knew.
The thought of telling Angie about Tina’s directives doused the fire in his veins. His hands unclenched, and his shoulders slumped. When he opened his eyes again, she’d disappeared. The blond bastard who’d hugged her had left too. Other than a few intrepid volunteers stacking chairs, Grant stood alone in the room. It seemed appropriate. Lonely, but appropriate.
Grant pulled into the Battlefield parking lot a few minutes before two o’clock. He couldn’t wait any longer to see Angie, even knowing they had no future. Even knowing she would view him as her enemy after their conversation.
Grant slowly exited his car, evaluating his first glimpse of Angie’s workplace. Tina had told him
that the Battlefield Library remained one of the library’s newest additions, built only ten years before. He could tell. Everything about the cozy building and the crowded parking lot still seemed fresh. Pristine. The architect had chosen a rosy, warm color of brick for the structure, and the wall of windows overlooking the nearby Civil War battlefield shone in the afternoon sun. In the distance, rolling hills climbed into mountains dotted with toothpick-like trees. The beauty of the view amazed him, even in the middle of winter. He imagined once the spring came, it would take his breath away.
From the outside, Battlefield looked well-maintained and orderly. He only hoped the interior matched the exterior. If not, the name and location of the branch could prove all too appropriate. He and Angie might have to battle over the direction of her library.
He walked in and breathed a sigh of relief. At first glance, everything appeared immaculate. The wooden circulation desk and work counter gleamed. Books stood in organized rows on the shelves or lay on the shelving cart behind the desk. Someone had arranged chairs and small tables to create inviting nooks for reading and relaxation. Adults pecked industriously at the keyboards of the ten public computers. In the children’s area, kids sat cuddled with their parents on various floppy stuffed creatures, listening to the small brunette he’d seen earlier read from a picture book. A young adult section boasted a comfortable-looking couch and a substantial manga section.
He could hear a low hum of quiet conversation in the library, but it wasn’t enough noise to disturb anyone. Just enough to make a visitor feel comfortable. Welcome. He couldn’t see Angie, but he could hear her talking in a low voice to someone in the workroom behind the circulation desk. Deciding not to disturb her for a moment, he continued looking around. A brick fireplace filled the wall near the windows. The other walls, though, stood bare, other than a few paintings in heavy frames. No one had taped flyers to the walls or the ends of the stacks, as he usually saw in libraries.
In fact, the walls appeared a little too neat. Spartan. Not what he’d have expected from someone of Angie’s exuberance. Didn’t she have posters advertising future events? Valentine’s Day was in a week. Why didn’t anything in the library seem to acknowledge the rapidly approaching holiday?
Angie emerged from the workroom, speaking to the young woman he’d seen by her side earlier. “No, they’re all gone, Mary. Penny and I took them down last—”
She stumbled to a halt when she saw him, and her coworker—Mary, he guessed—gasped. An odd reaction from the young woman, but maybe she feared meeting her new supervisor. From the way she looked at the floor, he also guessed Mary might suffer from shyness.
He made sure to direct his most encouraging smile her way. “You must be Mary,” he said. “I’m Grant Peterson, the new director of the branches. Pleased to meet you.”
She gave his hand a brief but surprisingly firm shake. “I’m Mary Higgs. Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Please call me Grant.” He turned to Angie. “Angie, it’s . . . nice to see you again.” Never had a banal greeting felt so inadequate. His brain supplied a few sentences that would express how he felt.
Angie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.
Angie, I hate that I’ll upset you with what I say today. I wish we weren’t supervisor and subordinate.
Angie, I missed you today. Even after only one night together.
But he couldn’t say any of them. Not in front of Mary. Instead, he gazed in mute frustration at the woman he’d bedded less than a day ago. She looked different than she had in the morning. Most obviously, she wore glasses, which he’d never seen before. Stylish ones, with purple frames. He almost smiled at the cheery choice of color. Then he caught a glimpse of her eyes behind the glasses, and his incipient smile disappeared. Bloodshot. From crying? Over him?
She greeted him with brisk courtesy. “Grant, it’s a pleasure. I’ll introduce you to Penny, the other woman who works here, when she’s done with her storytime.” She pointed toward the petite woman reading from a picture book in the children’s area. “Let’s take a tour while we’re waiting for her.”
He obediently followed her lead, walking by her side as she pointed out the different sections of the facility and discussed the staff’s various programs and initiatives. She took an obvious, possessive pride in her library, and it showed in everything he saw. By the time they reached the circulation desk once again, he found himself thoroughly impressed. Everything he’d seen had been warm. Welcoming. Well organized.
With one exception. “Everything looks fantastic, Angie. But I was wondering: Why are the walls so bare?”
Mary paused in the middle of scanning DVDs from the book drop and made a small choking noise. When he glanced at her with concern, she waved it off. “Allergies,” she gasped.
“I just took down the posters for our January activities,” Angie explained quickly. “Unfortunately, I’m running a bit late in getting up our signs for our Valentine’s Day contest. Did I tell you about it?”
Mary doubled over in a coughing fit.
Angie patted her on the back. “Mary, why don’t you get a drink of water while I tell Grant about our Facebook contest for Valentine’s Day? I’ll watch the desk.”
He frowned at her odd emphasis. “Why did—”
“We’re asking couples to write down the stories of how they met,” Angie said with a glance at Mary, who was drinking from a nearby water fountain, “and post them on our Facebook page. Whichever couple gets the most likes for their story will win a gift certificate for a romantic dinner at a local restaurant.”
He relaxed. “That sounds great. Are you keeping a close eye on the page to make sure no one posts anything inappropriate?”
“Oh, definitely,” she said. “I don’t want to associate the library with anything objectionable.”
He cast her a sharp glance. After his conversations with Tina, he knew a steaming pile of bullshit when he heard it. “Really? Unlike when you organized your erotica display and the New Year’s Eve singles event?”
“Angie’s learned her lesson,” a quiet female voice said. He turned around to see the small brunette with a pixie cut—Penny?—standing nearby. “The Battlefield Library is now all respectable, all the time. I’m grateful for that New Year’s Eve event, though. It’s where I met my boyfriend.”
Grant shook her hand. “Grant Peterson. Nice to meet you.” He fumbled for a good way to respond to her last statement. “Um . . . congratulations on the boyfriend.”
“Penny Callahan. And you should congratulate him.” She flashed a remarkably naughty grin.
Angie turned to her with eyebrows raised high. “Who are you? And what have you done with my reserved friend, Penny?”
Penny’s grin faded into a serene, Mona Lisa–worthy smile. “Better?” she asked.
“You’re killing me,” Angie muttered.
“Welcome to Battlefield, Grant,” Penny said. “I have to go say good-bye to the kids from my storytime, but I’m sure I’ll see you again later.”
Penny walked back to the children’s area, and Mary was occupied answering a question at a public computer. No patrons lingered at the counter. For a brief moment, the two of them had some privacy.
“We need to talk,” he said.
She gave a short laugh. “I suppose we do. I’ll let Mary know we’ll be in the workroom if things get too crazy out here.”
Figuring he could look around the employee area while she talked to Mary, Grant headed into the workroom. A large wooden table stood in the center of the space, surrounded by four rolling chairs. Lots of shelving and storage containers lined the walls, all spotlessly clean. He approved. It reminded him of his master bedroom closet.
Angie reappeared a minute later and closed the door behind her. Both of them took seats at the table, Angie facing him from across the table like an adversary. A harbinger of things to come, he suspected. Her mouth opened. To say what, he wasn’t sure. At the moment, he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait any longer to t
ell her what she needed to know. Even if it meant she’d never trust him again.
“Angie,” he said, “it’s time for you to find out what Tina told me. And what she asked me to do. About you.”
10
Now that the moment had finally arrived, though, Grant didn’t know quite how to start. Should he begin by telling her why he needed this job so desperately? By revealing how devastated he felt that their relationship had ended in such an abrupt and premature way? By diving right into Tina’s directives?
An apology, he decided. Even though he hadn’t really done anything wrong, he still felt as if she deserved one. But before he found the right words, she leaned forward and began to talk, her face drawn and anxious.
“Grant, I don’t want to mislead you. I need to tell you—”
He held up a hand. “No. Please let me go first. I owe you an apology and an explanation, and I wanted to offer both as soon as I could. Which is here and now.”
She pressed her lips into a thin, worried line, but she let him speak.
“I’m so sorry to put you in this position, Angie,” he said.
A spark of her usual mischief lit her eyes. “That’s not what you said last night.”
Jesus. The thought of how Angie had looked spread out on his desk, on his bed . . . No. He couldn’t let himself become distracted. Certainly not by the memory of Angie straddling him, with her hands on his . . . Shit. He shook his head. Thank God they’d only spent one night together. After two, he’d have been tempted to quit his job and devote himself full-time to doing whatever Angie wanted, however she wanted it.
He began again, this time choosing his words more carefully. “You know I didn’t want just a one-night stand with you, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t become intimately involved with a subordinate without endangering my job. And I need this position, Angie.”
She nodded, crossing her arms across her chest.