Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 8

  “Maybe I’ll see if she’s around today,” I said. I couldn’t help it. Sabrina had me interested. I wanted to ask Ruby more questions, but I was unwilling to endure the heaps of shit Jackson would shovel my way if I participated any further in this conversation.

  “She’s supposed to close the library tonight,” Weston added then looked to Ruby for approval.

  “Good job, Weston.” She patted his arm. “We’re done here. Carry on, officers. Let’s go.” She and Weston headed into Daisy’s Nut House.

  Jackson and I exchanged a look, then followed behind them to get breakfast.

  Chapter Nine

  Sabrina

  I’d forced myself to come back to work today, freaking Tuesday—five days after I’d called in sick. It was my day to do the afternoon story hour, which was always my favorite day of the week. I loved kids. And I liked to think they loved me back. Naomi always stood at the edge of the small children’s section and greeted each parent and chatted—about whatever humans chat about—before beginning her story hour. I always hid in the horror section and peeked around the shelves until all the kiddos were seated in the story circle before I began mine. Some kids would sit on the colorful beanbags and some would sit crisscross-applesauce on the solar system rug that covered the floor. Whenever they were ready for me, I would make my way to join them. I never looked beyond the circle, ever. I couldn’t match a kid to a parent if I tried and I liked it that way. I wouldn’t be able to read to the kids if I saw that their parents were watching me.

  Kids never judged. Kids accepted differences and found them interesting instead of weird. A kid would hold your hand and try to help if you were scared or didn’t know what to say. In fact, sometimes our story circle became a circle of tiny held hands. Some of the smaller kids cried when they were separated from their parent, even if it was only by a matter of feet. I understood exactly what that felt like. When I was five, I was separated from my mother. Unfortunately for me, it was for more than a few feet. I had always felt like the kids knew that I got where they were coming from. They knew that I understood their fears. If a child started to cry, I would sit on the floor and hold their hand to read the story from within the circle instead of on the squat, red rocking chair at the side of it. I’d never had a child leave my circle.

  I peeked around the shelf to see if they were ready for me. I clutched my copy of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day—a book I could relate to on a soul-deep level—to my chest, hurried over to join them, and sat in the little red rocking chair.

  “Knock knock, Miss Sabrina,” a tiny voice said once I’d settled in.

  I grinned and answered, “Who’s there?”

  “Duane.”

  “Duane, who?” I said and grinned at Benjamin—my favorite little charmer with the gorgeous brown eyes. I loved it when he attended story time. This kid cracked me up.

  “Duane the pool, I’m dwowning.”

  “Good one, honey,” I said with a laugh.

  “Ooh, I’m gonna tell Uncle Duane,” his tiny little brother threatened.

  “It’s just a joke, Andy. You’re so dramatic.” Benjamin rolled his eyes then looked to me with one eyebrow up for some commiseration.

  I winked at him. He winked back at me, the adorable little flirt.

  Uncle Duane. Winston? They were probably talking about him. Green Valley might as well change its name to Winstonville there were so many of them. It occurred to me that I may well have been trading knock-knock jokes off and on for the last couple years with Sienna Diaz and Jethro Winston’s child. I immediately shoved that thought right out of my head. My eyes got big, but I avoided lifting them beyond the circle. It was better that way. Better if I didn’t know for sure.

  But, was it?

  My therapist had always told me I needed to expand my circle. Since my sister died, my circle consisted of my family and no one else. Sure, I had people like Naomi and Mrs. MacIntyre with whom I would exchange the occasional pleasantry or talk about work, but I didn’t have friends to confide in. I could admit that I was afraid to let anyone new into my heart. After losing my mother, my grandparents, then my sister, I feared the eventual loss of anyone else. I found it highly ironic and insane that people literally surrounded me right now while I was having these thoughts. But, like with everything else in my life, I would never make a change unless something hit me over the head. I needed more than an Oprah-style ‘aha’ moment. I required brute force or pummeling by the complete and utter obvious to get me out of my head and into the world around me.

  What would Sienna Diaz do?

  Sienna Diaz would definitely look up.

  I took a huge breath and raised my head.

  I saw parents chatting together quietly in the corner. And I saw Winstons. Of course I did— they were everywhere. I saw Jethro Winston holding a baby in his arms. I gulped when I recalled the chicken incident at Genie’s, but I managed to shake that embarrassment off and sallied forth. I saw Drew’s wife, Ashley Winston-Runous, with a darling toddler on her hip.

  I smiled shakily at Ashley and Jethro. “Would you like to sit with your little ones in the story circle?” I offered. Kids should not miss out on stories just because they were too little to sit still. I kicked myself at the thought that I had neglected to be inclusive while dwelling in my shyness and not looking up—not looking outside of the circle.

  Ashley returned my smile. “Yes, that would be wonderful.” Ashley and Jethro joined us.

  I was ready to begin when an older woman rushed up, waving at me with a huge smile on her face. I recognized her as Wyatt’s mother. She had dropped the girls off at the park the other day. “We’re late—I’m so sorry. Go on, girls.”

  My eyes bugged out behind my glasses for a moment as Wyatt’s girls darted around the shelves and sat down. Yeah, my glasses were still on my face like a shield and nerd wear still covered my body from head to toe. I was not ready to take Ruby’s advice from last week and change my look. I placed the book in my lap, smoothed my long skirt over my legs then gripped the arms of the rocking chair as the girls approached.

  “We’re so sorry we’re late, Miss Sabrina,” Makenna said softly.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. No trouble at all. Hi, Melissa,” I greeted Wyatt’s youngest daughter.

  She grinned at me; she had lost a front tooth. Adorable.

  “Ready?” I asked and a chorus of enthusiastic “yesses” answered me.

  After I finished with the story, I made myself stay and say goodbye instead of running off to hide while everyone left. #progress

  The rest of the day moved slowly. I couldn’t concentrate. I had one thing on my mind—and it was not my job. Spoiler alert! My mind was on Wyatt. Lucky for me the library was slow. Naomi had already left for the day, and Mrs. MacIntyre was taking a break at Daisy’s Nut House, leaving me alone in the library. I organized the front counter and occupied myself with meaningless busy work until there was none left to do. Then I stood there and brooded. Brooding sucked if you didn’t have wine, or chocolate. Unfortunately, it was the end of the day. I was closing the library tonight, and I had eaten all of my purse Kit Kats yesterday.

  Despite my earlier success with my story hour I found myself growing nervous again. Wyatt’s girls had been here, but there was no sign of Wyatt. He hadn’t said exactly when he would stop by. It might not even be tonight. What if he had stopped by last week when I had taken to my bed like a swooning Victorian? What if he had changed his mind about me and found someone else to pursue? Or worse, what if he had died? Poor Makenna and Melissa…

  Stop it. Just because someone doesn’t show up when you want them to, doesn’t mean they hate you or died. Get a grip, Sabrina.

  My cell phone vibrated then binged in my pocket. I jumped out of my skin and let out a quiet scream followed by a startled laugh. I took it out and opened the text, from my father. He wanted me to stop at the Piggly Wiggly and pick up the Dr. Pepper that Ruby and Weston didn’t get the other d
ay. I returned the text and added that to my list of things to do. I set my phone on the counter and did some of the deep breathing exercises my therapist had recommended for me to use when I felt nervous. It didn’t help. I ran down the short hall to the bathroom to check my face again and possibly throw up.

  Nope, I had not turned into a self-assured, confident woman in the half hour it had been since the last time I checked my face. And nope, I was not going to throw up, but my stomach felt like it was in a nervous knot. I shook my head at myself in the mirror. I let out a huge breath and flipped my hair. I pursed my lips at myself in the mirror—MAC Lady Danger red was still in place. At least I didn’t look like dog doodoo, even if I felt like a big fat pile of it.

  I stared at my eyes that had seen too much.—and yet so little at the same time. I’d had a front row seat for death and birth, and both had left me afraid to live. Now, here I stood, stuck in the mirror, wanting to live so badly and not knowing how. Could someone be bad at life? Was living a skill?

  Alas, I was not being paid to hide in the bathroom and stare at my face. I had to get back out front. I opened the door and walked down the hall. Halfway to the checkout counter, I stopped short, took a huge step backward flattening myself against the wall when I saw that I was no longer alone in the library.

  Wyatt was leaning one hip against the counter and looking around the library—for me?

  I’d never had a man look for me before, which was probably good because this was the first time in my life I had ever wanted to be found.

  He was in uniform—a short-sleeved khaki brown shirt this time. I almost drooled when I noticed how tight it was around his biceps and chest, just like in the Stop and Go video. Except in the video his shirt was navy blue, from when he worked for Nashville PD.

  Quit thinking about that video. Just stop it before you get all tingly and stupid.

  Too late—I got the tingles when I peeked around the corner and saw him turn around. The darker khaki green pants did wonderful things for what had to be my number one favorite part of his body. And the belt didn’t hurt either. It was full of badass stuff like his gun and radio, and probably handcuffs. That booty was going to get me into trouble. I wanted to smack it or pat it, or maybe even bite it. I had never wanted to bite a butt before, and it was freaking me out.

  My heart raced wildly in my chest, my stomach dropped, and my mind had left the library. Wyatt gave me all the feelings. Every single one. In all the best places. I felt my knees tremble and get weak as I walked toward him, with the counter between us.

  “Hi,” I said, barely making a sound.

  He heard me though, his head jerked around to where I stood. His eyes caressed my face as a slow smile crossed his. “Hey, darlin’. I missed you last week. Mrs. MacIntyre said you were sick. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  I smiled at him. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. He made me nervous. But not the nervous that made me want to vomit. This was a new nervous—this nervous made me want to be close to him, maybe even kiss him, while at the same time wanting to run and hide from him. I didn’t understand it. Plus, he tried to find me last week. Oh. My. God.

  His eyes drifted over me, then lingered on my sweater. He reached out a fingertip and touched the pin on the lapel of the shawl collar of my cozy gray cardigan. “I still believe in 398.2,” he read aloud. “What does that mean?”

  “Huh?” I murmured. I was lost—like, through the freaking door to Narnia, out of my mind lost. Who was I trying to be, standing in front of this gorgeous man hoping for a date? This was a normal occurrence for most people, but I felt like a freak. “Oh, my pin.” I let out a nervous laugh. “398.2 is a Dewey Decimal number. It’s where fairy tales are located in the library.”

  “You believe in fairy tales?” A slow smile crossed his face as his eyes met and held mine captive.

  I blushed; good thing I wasn’t wearing that red sweater Ruby told me I should wear. My face would have matched it right now. “Uh, I’d like to think good things can happen, um, happy endings and stuff—I don’t know.” I stammered.

  “You’re adorable,” he said to me. He must like red-faced, stammering nerds. Lucky me?

  I smiled softly. “Thank you.” I had no idea what to say to him. I remembered Ruby’s advice from the other night, smile and nod. I could do that. And according to Ruby and Cosmo, he would probably like it.

  His smile got bigger, and that scrumptious dimple appeared. “Is this your phone?” He gestured to my cell that I had left on the counter.

  I nodded.

  “May I?” His head tilted to the phone.

  I nodded again. Then I added a smile to change it up.

  He picked it up, swiped to the keypad, and entered a phone number.

  I jumped and giggled softly when I heard his phone ring.

  “Got your number.” He chuckled. “And you definitely have mine.” His eyes burned into mine.

  I couldn’t look away—not that I wanted to.

  He handed the phone back to me, brushing my hand gently with his. I clutched the phone to my chest.

  “About that date…”

  My eyes got big.

  “Do you like the Front Porch?”

  I nodded. Gah! I needed some words.

  His mouth quirked up at the corner. “Would you like to have dinner there with me next Saturday?”

  I smiled again, then started nodding.

  His sideways smile turned to a full one. “The Logan Ranch, right? Can I pick you up at six?”

  I kept nodding like a simpleton.

  His smile changed to one that was sweet and understanding, my heart melted. “Can I hear the words, darlin’?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. Then raised my voice to what I hoped was a normal volume. “I would love to go out to dinner with you, Wyatt. I will text you the gate code. You can drive right in.”

  “Perfect. I have to get back to work. I’ll call you soon, and hopefully I’ll see you around town.”

  “Okay. Goodbye, Wyatt,” I murmured.

  “Bye, Sabrina,” he said and walked out of the library.

  Holy crap. I have a date.

  I scrolled to my recent calls and there it was. I had his number. I saved it, then added the heart eyes emoji next to his name. I looked at it for a few minutes while more tingles distributed themselves throughout my body. How would I ever sit across from him at dinner? Or maybe even kiss him someday? Just thinking about him was making me melt into a puddle of Sabrina goo.

  Chapter Ten

  Sabrina

  The rest of my shift at the library had gone by in a blur. After Wyatt left, I lost all track of reality. It felt like I was stuck in a delicious daydream I couldn’t get out of. Who knew how long I’d been sitting in my Jeep staring mindlessly at the pig in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly sign like a ninny? I sure didn’t. I had come here straight after work to pick up the Dr. Pepper and I was afraid even such a small thing like grocery shopping would be too much for me to focus on.

  I sighed and got out, put my purse in a buggy, and headed inside the store. I was wandering slowly toward the produce aisle on the edge of the store, still lost in my daydreams, when I felt someone grab my arm.

  “You can’t take Harry from me, Sabrina. I’m not signing the fucking papers. Tell your father to drop this whole adoption idea,” he said, then jerked me around to face him. I hit my hip hard on the edge of the refrigerated bin that held the bagged salad. I lost hold of my buggy, it rolled away to stop against the banana display.

  Ouch. I stumbled into him, then lunged back with clumsy steps before righting myself and standing firm.

  Michael. That rat-bastard, mother-effing, son of a Slytherin.

  Weston was not the only one that lost his temper whenever his father was around. I had spent most of my young life watching my sister cry over this a-hole. Then I had the misfortune of watching Weston and Ruby cry over him too. Luckily, Harry didn’t know him at all, and that was why I was going to adopt H
arry. Weston and Ruby were almost adults, but Harry was only nine. My father was afraid he would die before Harry turned eighteen and wanted to make sure that I got to keep him.

  After Cora died, my father had threatened Michael with lawyers and custody battles and probably even violence to get custody of the kids. Michael’s parents took my father’s side. They disowned him after the despicable stunts he pulled right after Cora’s death. Trying to take the kids when they hadn’t seen him in years. Trying to make my father give him money and Cora’s car, even though they were divorced. Trying to visit Harry while he was still in the neonatal unit in the hospital. I couldn’t even remember all of it.

  Michael used to be a nice guy. He was once a good husband and father. Then he got into gambling—drag races, horse races, poker games—anything he could bet on. I used to hear him and Cora fighting about all the money he had lost. He’d even been to jail a few times—Cora had a fit about that. He hung around at the Dragon Biker Bar and cheated on my sister with girls from the Pink Pony and the G-Spot, a couple of local strip clubs. He used to be an accountant with an office in town. We would sometimes see odd, criminal looking people going in and out of it. He had probably helped them cheat on their taxes or laundered dirty drug money or something. I don’t know what he does now for a living, and I don’t care. I just know he is bad news and I don’t want him anywhere near the kids. I saw the hurt he caused my sister and the kids, and I hated him more than anything. I glared at him.