by Olivia Dade
“I came back here from Baltimore because my dad contracted the West Nile virus not long ago. He and Mom live near the Potomac, where they’ve always had issues with the mosquitoes. Dad got bitten one day, as he often did. But this time, he ended up with a terrible headache and a fever.” Grant sighed. “By the time Mom realized he didn’t just have a bad case of the flu, he already had inflammation in and around his brain. Even after two months, he still has problems moving his right arm and left leg. He can’t concentrate well, and he’s always tired.”
Watching his father lean on a walker and shuffle around his parents’ small house killed Grant every time he visited. So did the times when his dad would get confused in the middle of a conversation and stare helplessly at his wife and son. Grant’s strong, brilliant father now struggled to get dressed and balance a checkbook. He certainly wouldn’t be returning to his lifelong work as a mortgage broker anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
Grant’s mother, Patricia, looked like she’d aged a decade in two months. And every time he’d visited them before moving back to Nice County, her bloodshot eyes had revealed her fatigue and grief. So even though she’d argued with him about the move, she hadn’t been able to hide her relief when he’d announced the job offer from the library. Now, when he came by in the evening or on the weekends, she could take time for herself. Knowing that her husband was in good hands, she napped, read, took a bath, or even visited with friends. She regained energy for the long days and nights ahead, when she’d need it to care for the man she loved.
Slowly, both she and his father were finding a way to reconcile themselves to their new life together. It wasn’t easy, though. And after all his parents had given up for him—all the time and the money and the opportunities—Grant owed them his assistance. He owed them everything. His time. His money. His opportunities.
But Angie didn’t need to know all that. After this conversation, he couldn’t think about himself as her lover anymore. Maybe not even as her friend. He’d transform into her boss, nothing more and nothing less.
So he kept it simple. “I can’t lose this job. Mom needs me nearby. They both do. We don’t know how much he’ll recover, but we know any recovery will be slow and hard fought.”
Her arms had uncrossed as he spoke. She leaned forward and placed a hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Grant. What can I do to help?”
“Other than forgive me, not much. But thank you,” he said.
“Done,” she said instantly. “So this”—she removed her hand from his arm and used it to indicate both of them—“is also done, right?”
“Yes. But please believe me, Angie, I didn’t know you worked at the library when we met. I only found out I was supervising you when Tina called your name this morning. I mean, I knew of you. But no one ever told me the name of Battlefield’s manager.”
She straightened in her chair. “You knew of me? What does that mean?”
“Um . . .” He didn’t want to answer that question. But he knew he needed to.
“You mentioned the erotica display and New Year’s Eve. Is that what you’re talking about?”
He let out a long breath. “Mostly. The head of Human Resources met with me yesterday to discuss you, though she didn’t mention you by name. And Tina gave me a set of instructions specific to the Battlefield Library manager.”
“Which are?”
“I think Tina told you most of it in your meeting on Monday. One more complaint to Administration from any source, and you’ll be fired.”
She laughed, but not a single glint of amusement showed in her eyes. “Yes, that does sound familiar.”
He tunneled a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. “I don’t think you know about the other directive, though. If I see you doing anything that might reflect badly on the library, I’m required to report it to Tina so she can . . . take appropriate action.”
“By ‘take appropriate action,’ you mean let me go.”
“Yes,” he confirmed reluctantly. “And my job is contingent on it. I can’t protect you if you do something reckless. If I fail to report it, she’ll fire me.”
“And me too, once she finds out about it.”
“Precisely.”
Angie looked at him without speaking, but he could see her obvious distress. Her fingers drummed on the table, and those tiny frown lines had appeared on her forehead.
“I need this job, Angie,” he repeated. “So you need to tell me, should I expect any more complaints coming down the pike? Is there something I should know?”
She ducked her head, staring down at the table. He waited, figuring she was trying to remember if she’d done anything objectionable recently. Hoping she’d say no, and he wouldn’t become the means by which she got fired.
He heard her take a deep breath. When she looked up from the table, she was smiling. An obviously fake smile, true. But he attributed that to the awkwardness of the situation. It couldn’t be pleasant to find out that her—God, he hated referring to it like this—one-night stand now held the power to get her fired. That he’d been ordered to report on her.
“No, Grant,” she finally said, her voice calm. “I’ve learned my lesson. There’s nothing you should know.”
“Yes, all entries are due by February 13. We’ll announce the winner on Valentine’s Day.” Angie paused, holding the phone to her ear. “No, we don’t have any restrictions about content. Tell the story you want to tell.” She paused again. “Yes, there can be more than two people involved.”
At that, Grant’s head lifted from the screen of the workroom computer. He’d told the ladies at Battlefield that he needed access to their computer to compile their circulation and usage statistics. A total lie, of course. He could do that particular job at any computer connected to the library’s data network. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to stay near Angie, even though she was treating him with the same friendly but distant politeness one typically used to fend off drunken relatives at a family picnic.
He loved watching her interact with her coworkers and patrons. Her warmth and enthusiasm amazed him. Humbled him. And so did the loyalty of her patrons. Tina could say what she wanted about that New Year’s Eve event, but two separate couples had come by today and thanked Angie for planning it. And several other patrons had dropped in to request books they’d seen on Angie’s erotica display. The most memorable had been an older woman with fluffy blond curls and a distinguished-looking man at her side.
“I’m excited to read the rest in the shifter category. Carl and I got such a kick out of this one,” she’d said, dropping a book on the counter and cuddling into the man’s arm. “A man turning into a bear? So exciting!”
Curious, he’d craned his neck to read the title. Bear Bones. What kind of book was that? If he could only see the cover . . . He’d edged closer for a better view.
Suffice it to say, he’d received a vivid, furry reminder that the word bones functioned as both a noun and a verb. One somewhat more polite than the other.
Angie hung up the phone and started sorting books on the shelving cart. After another minute of staring blankly at the computer screen, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to get her to acknowledge him. Meet his eyes. Talk to him, dammit.
“Angie?” he called.
She appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Why did the couple want to include more than two people in their Facebook story?”
“Huh?” Her brow furrowed in cute little vertical lines.
“The phone call you just took. They wanted to know if they could include more than two people in their Facebook post about how they met, right?”
“Right,” she said. “That’s what they called about. The Facebook contest.”
“Why did they need more than two people? Are they posting from a fundamentalist compound in Utah?”
“Good question,” she said. “Good question. This particular couple met via a . . . mutual friend. They had such . . . good times . . . with that m
utual friend, they wanted to include the friend in the story.”
“That’s sweet,” he said.
“Yes. Very sweet.” She started walking back toward the public area of the library.
“Angie?”
“Yes?” she asked, an edge of frustration creeping into her voice.
He pointed to the enormous pile of shredded paper in the trash can. “I’ve never seen a library shred so much of their wastepaper. You’re really concerned about not letting sensitive patron information be stolen, aren’t you?”
“I was very concerned,” she confirmed. “I felt I should get rid of the papers with the information as quickly and securely as possible.”
“Good for you,” he said. “Not all libraries guard their patrons’ personal data so conscientiously.”
A look he couldn’t quite decipher crossed her face. Then she turned and left.
Swiveling back to the computer, he noticed that it was almost seven. Closing time for the Battlefield Library. He saved his work, shut down the computer, grabbed his jacket from the back of one of the rolling chairs, and headed to the public section of the library. Angie was picking up stacks of discarded books from the tables in the children’s section. He joined her and helped her pile the books onto a cart.
The crowds had thinned. Only a few stragglers remained, and he could see Mary going to speak with them. The young woman apparently had a nice way of talking to people. Each of the remaining patrons smiled as they gathered their items and left. With a final wave to the departing patrons, she headed behind the circulation desk and into the workroom.
“Mary’s a treasure,” Angie told him, placing the last errant book onto the cart. “The library should consider itself lucky to have her. Penny, too.”
“Don’t forget yourself,” he said.
She laughed and began to move the cart toward the circulation desk. “I think the library considers me more an albatross than a treasure, Grant. Don’t lie.”
He gently nudged her away from the cart and pushed it himself.
“It’s not a lie,” he insisted. With one final swivel of its wheels, he parked the cart where he’d seen it before, against the wall behind the circulation desk. Then he faced Angie, his fists on his hips. “If anyone else had broken the rules the way you did, they’d have fired her months ago. You still have a job because Tina and the Administration like you so much. For all their concerns, not a single one of them questioned how hard you work or how much you love what you do.”
She smiled at him, and his thoughts scrambled. If he remembered correctly—and he probably didn’t, given the aforementioned brain-scrambling effects of her smile—it was the first genuine expression of happiness he’d seen from her since early that morning. It soothed something raw inside him, a place damaged by watching her put on a false face for him all day.
He’d missed her. And though she’d spent much of the day within viewing distance and earshot, he hadn’t seen or heard her for hours and hours. Not the real Angie.
“Thank you. Coming from my boss, that’s a real compliment,” she said, her expression turning sardonic. “I’ll keep that lovely thought in mind while I wait in the unemployment line.”
He eyed her carefully. “I thought you said you didn’t need to tell me anything.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I think we both know, however, that I’ll mess up again sooner or later. I’m a font of continual disappointment.”
What the fuck? The last thing, the absolute last thing that came to mind when he thought of Angie was disappointment. Okay, maybe disappointment at their situation, but not at her. Never at her. Admiration—yes. Fascination—yes. Lust—ye gods, yes. But not disappointment.
“Where did that come from?” he asked.
“Lifelong experience.” Then she perked up, a grin crossing her face. “But at least I have fun while disappointing others.”
Penny rounded the counter and stood next to Angie. “All the patrons are gone. I’ve turned off the computers and locked the doors.”
Angie turned to him. “Good night, Grant. You should exit by the workroom door to the staff parking lot, since the front door is locked. Can you walk Mary to her car?”
“Sure. But why wouldn’t I walk all three of you to your cars?” he asked, frowning. “It’s dark, and I’d feel better if you and Penny didn’t end up alone in the lot.”
Not a lie. But he also didn’t want to say good-bye to her. Not yet.
The two women looked at each other.
Penny spoke first. “Angie and I didn’t have a chance today to put up our signs for the Valentine’s Day Facebook contest, so we thought we’d stay a little longer.”
“Can’t you do it tomorrow?” he asked, frowning. “You shouldn’t have to volunteer your time.”
“We do it all the time. Didn’t you work extra hours at your old job?” Penny asked.
“I managed the reference department at Baltimore College. I worked long hours, but I was salaried. My hourly people never worked overtime without pay.”
“Welcome to branch life,” Angie said. “Without a few extra hours, this place wouldn’t run smoothly. You may not work outside of business hours as our director, but we will. Unofficially. We don’t charge the library for it.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“It’s fine, Grant. Go home,” Angie urged.
Mary appeared from the workroom wearing a long wool coat and a scarf. “Do you need me to stay, Angie?”
Angie gave Mary a gentle smile. “No, honey. But thanks for asking.”
“I really don’t mind,” Mary insisted.
“I know. But there’s no reason to subject you to this particular . . . task.”
“Oh,” Mary said. Then her eyes widened. “Oh. Yes, I’ll go home.”
“I’ll make sure Mary gets to her car safely,” Grant told Angie. “I’d like to come back and stay until you and Penny are ready to go, but my parents called earlier. They need some help setting up a downstairs bedroom for Dad.”
The employee lot stood around the corner of the building, where no one could easily see or report an attack on the women. At this time of night, no tourists would visit the nearby battlefield. The adjacent park and playground would stand empty and dark. Anything could happen to Angie or Penny, and no one at the library would know until morning. Grant shifted uneasily, feeling like an asshole for leaving the women alone in a deserted building. Leaving his woman alone.
No. Not mine anymore. I have to remember that.
“Maybe I could call my parents and check whether—” he started to offer.
“I appreciate the thought, but Penny and I can take care of ourselves. Go walk Mary to her car and help your parents.” Angie strode through the workroom and opened the door to the employee lot. “Good night, Grant. See you tomorrow, Mary. Good work today, honey.”
Mary headed out the door with a final smile to her coworkers. After one last glance at Angie, Grant followed the young woman into the dim parking lot.
And right after the door swung shut, he could have sworn he heard Angie say, “Oh, thank God. Break out the wine, Penny.”
11
“Grant?” Penny gasped. “Grant gave you that hickey?”
“Yup.” Angie leaned back in her chair, propping her sock-clad feet on the edge of the workroom table. The simple act of telling her best friend about the past twenty-four hours of Grant-related madness had already eased some of her tension. Her shoulders felt looser, her stomach less knotted. Her thoughts no longer flew in a million different directions. Her heart hurt, but the ache was almost bearable. Almost.
Of course, the wine didn’t hurt either. Angie took another generous swallow.
“So let me get this straight,” Penny said. “He runs you off the road with a rogue suitcase, you basically molest the man by the side of the highway, the two of you go to dinner, and then you have amazing sex for most of the night. And then, only hours later, you find out he’s your boss in front of approxim
ately a hundred of your coworkers? And then he tells you he’s some sort of Librarian Big Brother, sent by Tina to spy on you and report back to her?”
“Yup,” Angie repeated.
What could she say? As usual, Penny had cut to the heart of the situation. Just one of many reasons she’d become Angie’s best friend.
Penny drained her glass. “Holy motherfucking shit, Angie. Only you.” After she’d poured herself more wine, she raised it to her friend in a toast. “Here’s to you, sweetie. If you manage to live through this with your sanity and job intact, I’m going to have Jack make you the heroine of his next book.”
“You’re no slouch yourself when it comes to drama. If you’ll recall, you screwed an accountant in the library on the first date, only to find out he was the bestselling author of your favorite novel,” Angie noted.
“Other than Jane Eyre,” Penny clarified, and then pointed a finger at Angie. “But don’t you tell Jack that. He thinks he’s edged out Charlotte Brontë. He hasn’t, of course.”
“Understood.”
“Apart from that issue, your point stands. I guess I acted pretty much the same way you did, only with better results. At least the results got better after a couple of weeks, when Jack begged his way back into my good graces.”
Angie saluted Penny with her own glass. “Basically, we’re both floozies. So here’s to both of us. And to fucking strange men the first night we meet ’em.”
“I hesitate to drink to that,” Penny said. “But okay. Let’s do it.”
The two women clinked glasses and took big gulps. Then, by mutual agreement, they recorked the wine. Both of them needed to drive home, so they’d drink water the rest of the night.
“Time to start reading sex scenes,” Angie said. “Shit, I thought Grant would never leave. I’m sorry, Pen. We’re going to be here forever. And you know this is only the first wave. We’ll get a ton more right before the deadline. I’d be willing to bet money that they’ll be the filthiest ones, too.”
“Another sucker bet. Forget it.” Penny tossed a new pack of sticky notes in the middle of the workroom table. “You hide the names for my pile, and I’ll do it for yours. We don’t want any complaints about bias.”