Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 2

  I smiled back at his crinkle-eyed hotness in the rearview mirror. Be brave, Sabrina. He is just a human. You can talk to a fellow human in your car and not die.

  Chapter Two

  Sabrina

  I couldn’t do it. I could not talk to a human in my car. I wussed out—hard. But at least I didn’t die.

  The ride back into town was silent. But weirdly, it didn’t feel awkward. Harry was asleep; perhaps that was a good enough reason to justify not talking and eliminate the awkwardness silence can bring. I went with that and tried to shake off my embarrassment. He had parked my Jeep in the tiny lot in front of the library, and I swooned even more over him when he got out and turned to open my door for me. I lost my breath when I stood next to him and had to look up to see his face. I’m a tall girl at five feet ten inches. And today, like every other day, I was wearing heels. He was still taller. Plus, there was something about him—aside from his outrageously gorgeous looks—that made me want to be near him. I wanted to know more about him. He seemed kind. He seemed good. He was able to interact with Harry and that never happened on anybody’s first try. People shied away from Harry, especially when he was upset. Harry had a unique perspective on things and some people found him peculiar. Having Harry around was a good litmus test for determining who had asshole tendencies, or latent jerk face qualities. I quickly glanced through the window. Harry was still asleep.

  “So…” Deputy Sheriff Monroe said and grinned down at me.

  Ooh, he had a dimple, just one, and it was magical. I wanted to lick it. Wait, no I didn’t. Was it inappropriate to think this way about him? I had never wanted to lick a dimple before.

  “It was very nice to meet you, Sabrina.” That eye crinkle was back and aimed right at me.

  By now I was pretty sure that every time I looked directly at him my IQ lowered because I could not think of one stinking word to say to him. I opened my mouth anyway though, just in case the flirt fairy decided to bless me with a witty anecdote or some charming repartee. Nope. That was a big fat nothing coming out of my mouth.

  Can I disappear now?

  His right eyebrow cocked, and his grin got bigger as he studied my face. “I’d like to get to know you better. Can I take you out to dinner Saturday night?”

  My eyes got huge. I felt them bug out behind my glasses.

  “Or maybe a movie? Or both?” he added with another wink.

  My mouth opened wider, then shut, and I blinked rapidly. Answer him. Say yes. Say yes, dammit—this is what you’ve been waiting for. But I just stood there and stared.

  His smile shrank down to just a half grin, and my heart broke a little bit when he lost that irresistible eye crinkle and the dimple disappeared. I inhaled sharply, my eyes burned as they lowered to the ground.

  “You’re adorable,” he said.

  Hot guy, say what?

  I snapped my eyes back to his. The crinkle was back. “Would it be okay if I come to the library sometime this week and try this again?” He finished talking, then boom, the dimple was back too.

  Holy effing crap.

  Nod your head, Sabrina. You nod it right now.

  I nodded my head.

  He chuckled again. “I’ll see you real soon, darlin’. Tell Harry goodbye for me.”

  “I will tell him,” I said and smiled back. I finally found some words, and a small smile. Better late than never.

  Darlin’… I let myself feel the top-to-toe tingle that word gave me. I sighed as I watched him walk away, admiring how each step made his uniform tighten across his glorious bottom and broad shoulders. I watched his hips move, and it made me think…things, thoughts—bad ones. I should really be ashamed of myself. I was objectifying the crap out of him. I sighed when he stepped off the curb and crossed the street toward the sheriff station up the road. I jumped when he turned around to wave and smile at me. At least I managed to wave back before I spun around to open Harry’s door. I also realized I was still nodding.

  Good gracious, he might ask me out again. What am I going to do?

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” I said distractedly. I jumped again when I looked down at Harry to see he was already awake and staring up at me.

  “He was nice,” Harry said, then yawned.

  “He was,” I agreed. “Do you feel like going to work with me?”

  Harry beamed. “Yes, Riri. Yes, I do feel like going to work with you. Can I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: The Illustrated Edition, by J.K. Rowling and illustrated by Jim Kay and sit in the purple bean bag? Is Miss Naomi here today?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes. Then, after work we’ll stop at Genie’s Bar to pick up—”

  “Fried chicken! It’s family dinner night! Pop will be home. And Ruby and Westie too! And we met a nice sheriff who looks like Superman. The worst day ever just turned into the best day ever. Isn’t that funny?”

  “It sure is. Are you going to taste the chicken tonight?” Harry’s sensory issues became especially pronounced with food. “Maybe one tiny bite?”

  His face wrinkled up in disgust and he gagged before he regained his neutral expression. “Maybe. One bite. I will ponder it and then tell you my decision at the table. Maybe it can be my amuse-bouche. But I don’t think dead chickens are amusing at all, unless they’re ground up in a dinosaur shaped nugget. I really will have to think about it.” He shook his head as he mumbled the last part. He was about to get lost in his thoughts.

  I interrupted his mumbling by holding my hand out to him. “Deal,” I said. He looked at my hand and then up at my face for a second before taking my hand with a sideways grin.

  I helped him out of the Jeep, and we headed to the library entrance. Harry stopped to admire the big picture window next to the book return slot. Naomi had finished decorating while I was gone. A colorful fall faux-leaf garland wound with twinkling fairy lights festooned the interior of the window, black cat silhouettes peeked out from each corner, and two smiling scarecrows stood on either side of a table she had piled with stacks of fall-themed children’s books. Pumpkins filled the area under the table and the tops of the short shelves in the front of the library beneath the side windows. This place was already magical, but the decorations added that extra something special. You could step inside, open a book, and go somewhere else—somewhere beyond the confinements of Green Valley. I loved this library, and thankfully, so did Harry. He was always at peace here.

  “Riri, look at that. Look. At. That. It is the fall and the autumn. It is the orange and the black.” He turned to look up at me. He was jumping up and down by the time he got to “the orange and the black.” The smile that lit up his face was infectious; I grinned back at him and squeezed his hand.

  “Naomi did a great job,” I observed as we shuffle-skipped through the leaves on the pathway to the double front door and into the library. My heels clicked on the old linoleum as I led Harry to the tiny children’s section in the back corner. He ran around the colorful bean bags to his favorite double-sized purple one and plopped into it with a sigh.

  I waved to Naomi, who was busy shelving the latest additions to the children’s section. My father had donated money for those new books, and I couldn’t help but think he had done it so I could keep my job. Rumors of the library’s possible closure had been circulating, and I was dreading it. This is the only work I’d ever done. They’d hired me six years ago to replace the beloved Bethany Winston. I wasn’t even a real librarian, just an assistant who loved to read and had a vast knowledge of books. When you do nothing but read in your spare time, that could happen.

  “Hi, Naomi. I hope you don’t mind that Harry is here.” Guilt crept over me as I greeted her.

  “Of course I don’t mind. We’re buddies. Aren’t we, Harry?”

  He nodded up at her with adoration. Naomi was special, beautiful and sweet, and full of light. Sometimes—okay, all the time—I wished I wasn’t so shy. I would like to be her friend. But something always held me back from talking to her about anything real. I cou
ld only manage ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ and library business. She sat down next to Harry and grabbed the illustrated Harry Potter book that was waiting on the low round table next to the beanbag.

  “I’ll finish the shelving,” I offered.

  She nodded at me with a smile, then chatted about the book with Harry. I smiled when they moved on to talk about the upcoming autumnal equinox. Harry loved astronomy and Naomi was an expert. I sighed and pushed the small book-laden cart further into the stacks. I adjusted my collar, undoing a couple of buttons. It was getting hot in here; I dabbed at my forehead with the sleeve of my cardigan.

  I huffed out a breath as I rolled the cart to the self-help section. I had read most of these books and none of them worked on me—I was still as shy as ever. I laughed softly, quickly shelved them, and then continued walking down the aisle. Naomi had already sorted the returned books into order. All I had to do was follow the numbers. I felt terrible for leaving all this work for her to do. She was so sweet. Even if she secretly hated me for having to leave so often, I bet she would never tell me.

  Had someone turned the heat up in here? I took off my cardigan and draped it over the handle of the cart. I felt my chest constrict as my heart pounded. I could hear it in my ears. My head throbbed at my temples. I took a deep breath and then a few shallow, panting breaths. I leaned against the cart for balance. The early afternoon sunlight shining through the windows felt like a spotlight aimed right at me. I felt conspicuous. I felt judged. Logically, I knew I was being silly. Naomi was a kind person; so was Mrs. MacIntyre. Jackson pulled over to make sure I wasn’t doing anything nefarious, and since I was not, he was nice to me like he always was. Wyatt was nice too.

  I couldn’t get my mind off Wyatt. He said he would try to ask me out again. He was everything I always fantasized about. Truthfully, he was probably everything most women fantasized about. He should probably take one of them on a date instead.

  My therapist had given me deep breathing exercises to do when I felt myself getting nervous. I inhaled deeply. I counted to five, then ten. I released my breath and thought of my bedroom and my bed with its white eyelet comforter and the soft gray blanket my mother had knitted thrown over the bottom. I wanted to crawl into it and not come out. I thought of dinner tonight with my family and going home where I was safe. I exhaled slowly until my heart rate returned to normal and my legs stopped shaking.

  I hate this.

  I had no business dating when I was such a ridiculous mess of insecurity and irrational fears. Why would anyone want to put up with this drama? I should say no. Or just say nothing, like I did earlier. Better yet, I should quit my job or call in sick until he forgot about me. I mean, I could call in sick tomorrow, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. I’d probably throw up tonight anyway from my nerves. Or maybe I should grow a pair and do the opposite of my usual instincts.

  What would Sabrina do? Figure that out, then do the opposite. Forget that—what would Sienna Diaz do? My therapist said I should have a bravery mantra, something to get my mind out of an anxiety spiral. Sienna Diaz was my favorite movie star, filmmaker, and a total badass—she created the movie version of Smash-Girl for eff’s sake—the best comic book character in the history of comics. Sorry, Wonder Woman. So, like the extreme dork that I was, I used my girl crush on Sienna Diaz as part of my bravery mantra. What would Sienna Diaz do? I would die if anyone found out about it.

  I jumped and let out a squeal when Naomi popped her head around the corner of the romance section where I was finishing up shelving the last books on the cart.

  “I’m sorry I startled you,” she said.

  I nodded at her and gripped the handle of the cart in my sweaty palms.

  “Are you okay, Sabrina? You seemed to be a bit flustered when you came in,” Naomi asked.

  “Oh, I’m okay. I’m fine, thank you for asking.” I returned her smile then quickly looked down at the cart and picked up another book.

  “You know where to find me if you ever want to talk. We could all use more friends, right?” She looked disappointed for a second before covering it with a smile.

  My eyes got big. She wanted to be my friend? I forced myself to stand there and not push that cart away and escape like I normally would have done. Like I had done almost every other time she tried to talk to me. She probably thought I was just rude. Everyone probably thought that about me, even though I would rather die than be rude to someone. I inhaled sharply and forced myself to look at her. Her smile was understanding. Her eyes shone with compassion.

  I blinked back tears and nodded at her. “Yes,” I whispered.

  Her jaw dropped for a second before she smiled radiantly at me.

  I understood why Harry liked her so much. She could see beyond the stuff that makes most people dismiss others. Like Harry’s Autism or my stupid shyness. We had been working together for almost six years and she had never dismissed me; she had always kept trying to talk to me.

  I smiled back. “Thank you, Naomi.”

  “For what?” She laughed, like tinkling bells that spread her good nature around the library.

  “For being a good friend to Harry. For making him feel special and safe here. There are not many people with that kind of patience. And, um…” Thoughts I usually kept inside had spilled out.

  “You don’t need to thank me. It’s my pleasure,” she answered. “And also, it’s three o’clock. You’re off. Harry informed me it’s time to get the chicken, and he’s going to take half a bite tonight.”

  “Wow, he did?” I asked. There was a lot to unwrap here. First, Harry was going to eat chicken. And second, he conversed with someone about something that didn’t directly involve what they were doing. Which would have been astronomy, Harry Potter, the purple beanbag, or the library itself. Holy progress, Batman.

  She nodded. “And guess what else? I had a bag of M&M’s to snack on for my break, and he ate the blue ones! He said they tasted like chocolate sky. But he didn’t like the red ones. He said they were hot.” We both laughed. Then she hugged me. Most kids would inhale a bag of M&M’s if given the chance. But not Harry. Harry was very particular when it came to food. Occasionally, things other than taste and texture compelled him to try a bite of something. In this case it seemed to be the colors of the M&M’s.

  I hugged her back. I hugged someone not in my family. Harry was not the only one making changes.

  I stepped away from Naomi and smiled at her. A real one. Not the small excuse for a smile I always told myself would suffice.

  “Sabrina, you’re lovely,” she said.

  I blushed. I was fairly certain I turned as red as those hot M&M’s Harry didn’t like.

  But, overwhelmed by the hope she inspired in me today I said, “Thank you, Naomi, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, and not just your face.” I felt my face heat with a blush. If I kept blushing like this, would it stay red forever? Gah, I’m so awkward. What if she thought I was talking about her butt or something? I meant her kindness was beautiful.

  “You’re fine, Sabrina. I know what you meant,” she said knowingly. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Be careful tonight. It’s been getting dark earlier and earlier,” I said.

  “Change is in the air.” She smiled and headed off toward the checkout counter.

  Change indeed. Spirits lifted, I headed back to the children’s area to get Harry.

  Chapter Three

  Wyatt

  “Hey, Jackson! Thanks for leaving me on the road, man,” I called. I crossed the station to sit on his desk and bust his chops before I met my mother and one or more of my three brothers for lunch at Daisy’s Nut House. Jackson James had been a couple years ahead of me all through school. I’d known him since we were kids—he was the same age as my older brother, Everett. But Jackson never hung out with my brother or me. He was too busy hanging around with Ashley Winston back then to give anyone else the time of day. I didn’t blame him; if Ashley Winston had chosen me to hang out with, I would ha
ve ditched everyone else too. She was as sweet as she was pretty. Sometime after high school, Jackson had won the battle against his acne and braces and become a deputy sheriff. Now, all he had to do was win the battle against his father’s shadow. Jackson’s father, Sheriff Jeffrey James, was a legend in these parts. I was honored when he hired me to work for his department; it was a dream come true.

  Jackson looked up at me with a grin and leaned back in his chair. “You should be thanking me—sincerely, Monroe—without the sarcasm. I did you a favor. I left you with a cute little librarian. Scared Sabrina Logan pulled to the side of a treacherous mountain road, just waiting for a big hero like you. Sightings of her in town are rare, unless you’re into books. But there are only so many times you can go into the library before it gets weird…so, uh, you’re welcome.”

  “She shot you down, huh? Did she break your heart?” I grinned. For some reason I liked the idea that she shot him down and not me—not yet, anyway. I liked Jackson. He was a good guy, and I enjoyed working with him. But I had found myself really liking Sabrina this morning. Something about her shyness drew me in. She was like a mystery and I wanted to solve it. The thought of Jackson going after Sabrina—well, it didn’t make me happy and I’ll leave it at that for now.

  Jackson chuckled. “Not quite. I wasn’t trying to hit on her, not the first time anyway. I don’t think she even realized it was me that first time, even though she knows who I am—if that makes any sense at all. I ran into her at the library a few years back when I was looking for the latest Stephen King. I think she was hiding back there in the horror section. She jumped about a foot in the air when I walked up and said hi to her. She’s a shy one. Completely oblivious to flirting of any sort, but sweet. She always holds the new Stephen King books for me when they come out. She’s gorgeous, but too much work for me. I gave up on that a long time ago. Don’t worry about me, Monroe. I always have more than one iron in the fire.” He smirked.