He inhaled deeply while staring at the bulletin board by the door. It always smelled good in the library. Even though he didn’t like to read them, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t like the smell of books. Also, he was procrastinating. Postponing the inevitable. And that wasn’t going to get him anywhere. So, he squared his shoulders and cracked his neck. This was going to be awkward.
The first person to greet him was Miss Mills. “Good morning, Bryce. Are you out running errands for your grandmother?”
Alice snorted from behind the counter. Probably because she knew he wasn’t Bryce.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, not bothering to correct Miss Mills. Between the two of them, he’d rather be Bryce anyway.
Alice came around the counter. “I haven’t gathered her books yet.”
She consulted a list as she went about collecting books from the stacks. “Her usual cozy mystery series,” she said, snatching a book. “And she asked for something inspirational, so let’s see . . .”
Alice put a finger to her lip, wrinkled her brow, and stared at a table of books marked new. She wasn’t wearing cutoffs today, but she still looked pretty damn cute in a swirly kind of skirt with bright colors and a little white blouse. The skirt was knee-length, but thanks to the cutoffs, Beau knew exactly what her thighs looked like. Toned. Fit. Smooth. Longer than you’d expect.
Having apparently made a decision, Alice nodded her head once, bouncing her ponytail, and grabbed a hardcover off the table. “And she asked for a romance . . .”
There was always a romance novel in Nonnie’s stack. Beau shook his head and grinned as Alice marched around behind the counter.
“This one will do,” she said, picking up a book with a shirtless man on the cover. “We’re reading it for book club.”
“Not proud of it,” Miss Mills said. “But I don’t make the rules.”
“Oh?” Beau said. “Who picks out the dirty books?”
He knew the answer, but he enjoyed the way Alice turned her little nose up and raised a single eyebrow before saying, “I object to the word dirty in regard to literature and sexuality. And I choose the books. Good ones.”
Beau looked at the book. “That might be a matter of opinion.”
He pretended to read the back of the book while watching Alice out of the corner of his eye. He’d love to rile her up to foot-stomping mode.
“Well, you’re welcome to read it and form one. You can even join us at book club,” Alice said.
“Goodness,” Miss Mills said. “I’m not about to discuss a book where a man gets spanked like there’s no tomorrow if Bryce Montgomery is in the room.”
Holy shit.
“I thought you didn’t read those parts,” Alice said with a grin. “Also, that’s Beau.”
“Oh, sorry,” Miss Mills said. “And if I don’t at least skim those parts, how will I know to skip them?”
Typically, Beau would take that as a cue to try to get a rise out of Miss Mills, which wasn’t hard, but he was here on a mission. And it was making him nervous.
Alice gave him a once-over that reminded him of the way she’d stared at his chest when he’d answered the door at the Village Chateau. Then she briskly began scanning Nonnie’s books. “Hot outside? You’re sweating.”
He yanked on his shirt collar. “It’s a bit warm.”
How was he supposed to ask Alice for help right on the heels of a conversation involving Miss Mills and spanking? Especially when Miss Mills and Janie were both within earshot.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Beau Montgomery,” Alice said.
Why did his heart speed up like he was being called into the principal’s office? “About what?”
“You’re on the schedule for Cowboy Story Time next month.”
“I am?”
She handed him Nonnie’s bag of books, and then slid a piece of paper across the desk, tapping it with her finger. “Yep. It’s your turn to read to the kiddos.”
Beau looked at the Cowboy Story Time schedule. The library held the event once a month, and cowboys from local ranches showed up in full cowboy attire to read picture books to kids. Alice said it gave folks pride in their community.
“Okay, well, I’ll be here then.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Pardon?”
She leaned over the counter, giving him a quick peek at a lacy pink bra. He averted his eyes, because Allie Cat definitely wasn’t flashing him on purpose.
“I know it’s not you,” she whispered.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Allie,” he said with all the innocence he could muster, even though he knew Alice could tell him and Bryce apart.
“It’s Bryce,” she said. “He’s the one who comes in here and reads when it’s supposed to be you.”
Beau could read a picture book with no trouble at all . . . if he was by himself. Doing it in front of an audience, even if they were drooling and picking their noses, was another story entirely.
“Not that I’m admitting to anything, but why would it matter if Bryce took my turn? Maybe he enjoys it.”
That might be a stretch.
“I guess it doesn’t matter at all. I just wonder what it says about a man when he can’t be bothered to read a book to children on a Saturday morning.”
Well, it didn’t say what she thought it said. That was for damn sure.
She thinks you’re an asshole.
“Goodbye,” she said, dismissing him. “I guess I’ll see you”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“at Cowboy Story Time.”
He took the bag of books, the story time schedule, and once again slunk away from Alice Martin with his tail between his legs. Just like he had on New Year’s Eve all those years ago.
Chapter
Seven
The Corner Café was hopping. And it had been hopping steadily since early morning. However, things would wind down by midafternoon.
