Читать книгу Hidden Hearts - Olivia Dade - Страница 10

4

Oh, thank goodness, Mary thought.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Ignoring the tension that tightened every inch of Miles’s frame, she rushed forward and threw her arms around him. He inhaled sharply at the first touch of her body against his, an inadvertent echo of the sound she’d just made. Then he went very still. So still she could barely detect his breathing.

But he felt solid against her. Strong and vital in a way that forced her to blink back tears.

As she pressed against him, he stiffened even more. Then, slowly, he relaxed and allowed himself to be held. After a few seconds, his arm curved around her, and she squeezed close to his broad chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

He smelled good. Like expensive soap, citrusy and spicy. Which seemed odd for a man whose choppy beard, overgrown hair, and ill-fitting clothes proclaimed him less than interested in appearances and pricy trappings.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, and his arm tightened around her.

For months, she’d been convinced Miles was either wasting away from some sort of degenerative illness, cancer-stricken, or so severely hurt he couldn’t leave his house.

Yes, she understood that an amputated arm wasn’t a minor injury. And yes, she ached for him and the pain he must have suffered. Heck, the pain he might still be suffering. But here he stood in front of her, vibrant and full of leashed energy. Alive and healthy, albeit missing most of his left arm. She’d take that over the alternatives she’d envisioned any day.

“Is this…okay?” His cheek rested on her head, and his deep voice rumbled through her.

That involuntary gasp had hurt him. She wished she could snatch it back. Swallow it before she saw him react to it, fresh misery clouding his hazel eyes. Too late now, though. All she could do was show him, by word and deed, that the anxiety vibrating through every inch of his frame had no cause. That she accepted and cared about him exactly as he was.

“Of course,” she said.

With one last squeeze, she stepped away and studied him from head to toe. From this moment forward, she didn’t want him to feel like he needed to hide anything from her. So she scanned him carefully, taking her time.

His shoulders shifted and bunched. “I probably don’t look like you expected.”

“You don’t.” She smiled. “You look better.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“Trust me, Miles. I’m not lying.”

And she wasn’t. She’d pictured him gaunt and sallow, not simply pale and disheveled and sporting a tiny belly. His solidity, the reassurance that he wasn’t fading away on the other end of their computer connection, comforted her. And she could feel the muscles beneath his flesh, testimony to his basic fitness.

Even that soft tummy charmed her. He was clearly a man who ate, as well as exercised, and she was a woman who particularly appreciated that.

“I do.” He gave a little nod. “I do trust you.”

“Good,” she said.

His hair, thick and unruly, contained a million shades of brown, russet, and gold. Before his injury, she suspected he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. The faint lines across his forehead also indicated sun exposure, or maybe that he was a man who’d experienced a lot of pain. Probably both, given his injury. And the crinkles at the corners of those beautiful hazel eyes showed that he’d once laughed and laughed often.

He was a handsome man. The word Angie would probably use? Delicious.

For once, Mary agreed with Angie. To delicious, though, she’d add vaguely familiar.

Had they already met? Maybe out in California?

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.” She pursed her lips and thought back to UCLA and her three years of teaching in the Los Angeles school system. “Any chance I ran into you while we both lived on the west coast?”

“Just one of those faces.” He shrugged and looked around, clearly eager to shift her scrutiny away from him and his injury. “Want to take me on a tour of the library?”

“Sure.” She waved an arm toward the wall of windows. “As you can see, we’re situated near the mountains, so—”

“Excuse me.” Angie had come up behind them. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the patron Mary let have a card without any ID, correct?”

Mary winced. “You knew that?”

“Of course I knew. You wrote to Mr. O’Connor using our library e-mail account.” Angie’s shoulders lifted. “Keeping track of our correspondence is part of my job.”

“It’s all my fault,” Miles interjected, his brows drawn together. “She wouldn’t have broken the rules if I hadn’t begged her.”

Angie grinned. “Don’t worry, Lancelot. You don’t need to ride to her defense. I agreed completely with her decision, which is why I never talked to her about it. The reason I’m bringing it up now is because you’re actually here. And I assume you have ID with you?”

“Oh.” His brow cleared. “Yeah.”

The two women watched as he worked his wallet out of the pocket of his delightfully tight jeans. He slid the driver’s license from its slot without any problem, but fumbled a bit as he tried to offer the card to Angie without handing her the whole wallet.

His face turned ruddy. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Angie took his license. “Let me go lock the front door, and then I’ll issue you a physical library card. It’ll only take ten minutes or so.”

Mary angled a sharp look at Angie’s retreating back. Ten minutes? Since Miles’s information was already entered into the library system, all the Battlefield manager had to do was confirm the data using his license. The verification should require thirty seconds, max.

Maybe she didn’t want to leave Mary alone with Miles. Or maybe she wanted to do a little online research about him before departing?

Knowing Angie, probably both. Heck, she was probably in the midst of running a background check on the man already.

No matter. Angie wasn’t Mary’s concern right now. Miles was.

“Back to the tour.” Mary laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and urged him toward the front of the library. “Let’s start with the children’s area and make a loop.”

He strode ahead, his battered sneakers squeaking with each step. “I glanced in there earlier. Didn’t you say something about avoiding the stuffed animals? What was that about?”

They stopped in the doorway to the brightly lit room, and he turned to her with his brows raised in inquiry. Her cheeks heated, and she looked down at the nubby gray carpet beneath their feet. She wanted to answer his question, of course. But how to do so politely?

“A coworker got snowed in here a while ago. She made a bed of the stuffed animals.” Mary cleared her throat. “Which she shared with the man who’s now her husband.”

“Ah.” Miles’s little cough sounded a lot like a chuckle. “I see.”

“Fortunately, no one else did. But we all heard about it, to my sincere regret.” When he didn’t seem shocked, she ventured a bit further. “If you ever visit the Downtown Niceville Library, I’d give you similar advice concerning their stuffed animal collection.”

When she glanced up at him, his brows had risen even higher. “The same person?”

“Nope,” Angie called out cheerfully. “That was totally me. With my boss. During the workday.”

He blinked down at Mary. “Is this some sort of initiation rite for employees?”

“I hope not.” She had to laugh. “Because otherwise, my employment isn’t official, and it never will be. I’m not that kind of librarian. And I’m pretty sure Sarah has never christened a pile of stuffed creatures either.”

Angie emitted an odd sound at the circulation desk, something between a gasp and a screech. Her gaze flicked from the computer monitor to Miles, and then back again.

He shifted uncomfortably. “Is everything okay?”

“Just something in my throat.” Angie grabbed her water bottle from beneath the desk and took a swig. “It’s gone now. Anyway, I’m all done checking your information. Let me give you your license back, as well as your brand-new card.”

When she held them out, he shoved both into his front jeans pocket. “Thanks.”

“I have some work to do in the community room.” She caught Mary’s eye as she flicked off most of the library’s lights. “Just let me know when you’re ready to head out, and I’ll go home then.”

A lie. Mary knew for a fact that Grant was waiting for Angie at their house. But she also knew Angie would never leave one of her employees alone in their dark, closed library with a virtual stranger. Even one Mary herself trusted.

She nodded her thanks. “Okay.”

As she and Miles wandered around the library, he listened intently as she pointed out the public computers, the self-checkout machines, the various book collections, and all the other things that filled her workdays. He lingered a long time at the DVD and Blu-ray section, studying the titles with unusual focus. But the only time he interrupted her was when they passed by the curtained entrance to the Adult Reading Room.

His face split into a tentative smile for the first time, and Mary felt like a hibernating bear stumbling from her cave into a bright spring day: dazzled, disoriented, and bathed in unexpected warmth. Awakened somehow, even though that didn’t make a lick of sense.

Staring is rude, she reminded herself. Pay attention to the conversation.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “You were about to walk right past this place without saying a word about it, weren’t you?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “I was certainly going to try.”

“Spill it, Ms. Higgs.”

She gazed at the cathedral ceiling of the library, praying for strength. “Angie tends to read a lot of books with explicit content. Explicit in an, um, intimate sense.”

“You mean she reads erotica,” he clarified helpfully.

“Yes. Erotica.” She shifted from foot to foot. “And she made a display in the back of the adult fiction section with those books. At least until she received complaints.”

Some sort of activity appeared to be happening beneath his beard. As far as she could tell, he was doing his best not to laugh. “Complaints about her erotica display. In the public library. Who’d have guessed?”

“Our patrons loved the display, actually. Admin, though…” She winced. “Not so much. Anyway, long story short, Angie eventually agreed not to create any more displays like that. Instead, the library’s assistant director let Angie take a former study room and transform it into a home for Nice County Public Library’s only official erotica collection.”

She waved an arm at the curtained entryway. “And voilà! Our Adult Reading Room was born. Although most people call it ‘Angie’s Smut Room.’”

He bounced on his heels, his eyes lit with anticipation. “This I have to see.”

“Feel free. Take your time.” She waited, but he didn’t move. “I thought you wanted to look inside?”

His smile took on an unexpectedly wicked edge. “I do. With you as my tour guide.”

That grin crackled with charisma and a man’s confidence in his own appeal. And for a fleeting moment, the shell of self-consciousness and discomfort surrounding Miles seemed to crumble into dust. The man he must have been before his injury stood before her. The man he must have been when he was living in California.

For the first time since she’d met Miles in person, Mary wondered what exactly she’d invited into her library and her life. He no longer existed solely as words on a computer screen. He wasn’t simply another patron in need. He was more than just a friend. And he wasn’t, perhaps, the tame creature she’d imagined him to be.

The man standing by her side radiated heat and energy. Visceral appeal.

It made her nervous, but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it.

She opened the curtain and ushered him inside before letting the fabric swing closed behind her. And suddenly they were standing inches apart in a small, dimly lit room, surrounded by books about lovers and pleasure. Some of which she’d read at night, shocked and curious, peeking through her fingers as her legs tangled in the bedcovers.

Miles gazed down at her, his mouth parted. Her own lips felt parched, and without thinking, she licked them. His eyes followed the movement. She could have sworn she saw him shudder, just a little bit.

Time slowed, dripping like honey as she waited to see what would happen.

He reached for her, unhurried and deliberate, and she swayed toward him. But the strong fingers that had seemed destined to cup her cheek or smooth her hair veered at the last moment, instead touching the locket at her throat.

“I saw this.” His voice had turned low and hoarse. “In the picture. Hanging perfectly between your collarbones.”

She swallowed. “I wear it every day.”

His fingertip lingered over the locket, stroking a feather-light path along her engraved initials. Goose bumps rose on her skin and shivered through her bones.

His eyes stayed on hers, steady and bright, watching her reaction. And then his hand dropped, and he stepped further into the room. Further away from her.

“This is quite a place.” He turned toward the shelves on the back wall, so she couldn’t see his face anymore. “I’m surprised Angie didn’t consider the red brocade wallpaper overkill.”

Mary’s eyelids had grown heavy, and she blinked them all the way open. “She said she was going for something between a chic boudoir and a whoreh—” She stopped. “I mean, a house of ill-repute.”

He laughed briefly. “In that case, mission accomplished.”

She touched the cover of a new hardback, which Angie had recently purchased in honor of Penny’s brother Sam. He played amateur hockey at the local ice rink, and Angie had no doubt thought he’d be delighted by the library’s acquisition of Get It Deep and Work the D: An Erotic Hockey Anthology.

“Have you read that one?”

Miles’s voice startled her, and she immediately jerked away from the book. Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she folded her traitorous hands together.

“No,” she said a bit too loudly. “I haven’t.”

He’d turned back to her, but was leaning against the bookshelves across the room. His right hand fiddled with the hem of his tee. “Not a fan of hockey?”

“I am, actually. Just not as much a fan of”—she gestured toward the shelves—“all this.”

“So you haven’t looked at any of them?” He slanted her a dubious, amused look. “Not even as a dutiful employee, committed to knowing and recommending the books in her library?”

Her lips curved. “Well, maybe one or two.”

“Which ones?”

Angie’s loud voice came from outside the curtain. “Everything okay in there?”

Oh, thank goodness. Mary opened the barrier to answer her boss. “We’re fine. Just finishing our tour of the building.”

Angie gave her a surreptitious thumbs-up and a questioning look. When Mary nodded in response, Angie poked her head into the doorway.

“Hello again, Miles,” she said with a cheerful wave. “Mary, I’m about to head out for the evening. Were you two almost finished, or should I leave without you?”

“I think we’re just about done. I should be getting home and making dinner soon, I suppose.” Mary stepped out of the Adult Reading Room, relief and disappointment twined tight in her belly. “Unless you wanted to stay longer, Miles?”

Before he could answer, though, Angie spoke again. “I think you might be forgetting something, honey.”

Mary and Miles both stared at her.

“Dinner-wise?” Angie hinted.

Realization widened Mary’s eyes. “Oh! Oh, crap. What time is it?”

A frantic glance revealed that she’d stayed almost an hour past closing time. Which meant the earliest she could reach the restaurant for her date was…late. Way too late.

“Excuse me.” She ran for her purse and grabbed her phone.

I’m so sorry, she wrote in a quick e-mail to her date. I promise, I’m usually on time for dates. But I stayed late at work tonight and am running about an hour behind. Again, I sincerely apologize. Are you still interested in meeting for dinner?

The response arrived almost instantaneously. An hour? That’s not just late. That says you don’t care about me or my time at all. Forget it. And please lose my e-mail address.

I understand, she typed. Again, I’m sorry.

She sent the message and removed his e-mail address from her contacts list. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She was never late. Ever.

Except tonight. Tonight, when Miles had arrived out of the blue, despite saying he could never visit the library. Only hours after she’d informed him of her upcoming date and her need to leave immediately after work.

Now that she considered the matter, it all seemed more than coincidental. Especially since Miles was standing a few feet away from her looking a tad pleased with himself, rather than confused or regretful.

Her arms akimbo, she glared at him. “Tell me, Miles Barrett O’Connor. Did you come here tonight specifically to disrupt my date?”

“This seems like an excellent time to return to the community room.” Angie was halfway across the building in a shot. “Call me if you need me, honey!”

Once her boss had disappeared, Mary turned back to Miles. “Well?”

He gazed somewhere over her left shoulder. “I spent the last month preparing to come see you. But it’s possible I finally chose tonight to visit because of your e-mail this afternoon.”

Torn between pleasure—he’d been planning to see her for the past month?—and irritation, she stared at him. “He canceled our date and told me to lose his e-mail address. I hurt and inconvenienced an innocent man, and I feel terrible about it.”

“Of course you do. That’s who you are.” His broad chest expanded as he inhaled deeply. “I apologize, Mary. I just thought…” He met her eyes. “I thought this might be my last chance to see if what we had online could translate to real life. Because if your date really was a nice, normal guy, he’d snap you up in a heartbeat. So ready or not, I had to come.”

Her tapping foot slowed to a halt. “It’s hard to stay angry when you say something like that.”

“I hope so. But I swear, I’m not lying to you.” His hazel eyes were serious. “Please forgive me.”

“It’s fine.” She sighed. “Although he was the lone normal guy I’d met on that dating site.”

“What were the others like?”

“Most of them were pretty horrifying.” She pursed her lips and thought back. “Please excuse me for being crass, but one of them compared his man parts to a can of Pringles and invited me to ‘get down there and pop.’ He informed me that once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I had my doubts. Since I chose not to start, though, I guess I’ll never know for sure.”

Miles began laughing, which she spoke over.

“Another man’s introductory message asked me to kick him in the testicles. I declined.”

“Oh, my God, Mary,” Miles wheezed.

“One recent match told me my choice of clothing in the profile picture made me look old and dowdy.” She watched as Miles’s grin turned into a scowl. “Angie tells me that sort of comment is called ‘negging.’ Then he told me he couldn’t see a relationship with someone like me. He added, however, that he’d be happy to, um, have relations with me.”

Miles’s right hand formed a fist. “Jackass.”

“That’s not even the whole story. When I declined his offer, he called me a conceited witch and said no other man would want me.”

“I assume he actually called you a word that rhymes with witch.”

“Correct.”

He glowered at the phone in her hand as if it had personally offended him. “No wonder you almost shut down your account and acquired a crapload of cats. I’m only surprised you didn’t join a nunnery or decide to lop off all men’s private parts.”

She couldn’t lie. If she hadn’t been Protestant, she’d have been sorely tempted. By the nunnery, not the penis-lopping.

“Well, I’m obviously not going out with the guy from D.C. tonight,” she said. “So how do you feel about dinner at Sallie’s Diner? It’s casual, and the food’s good.”

He froze. “You want me to eat out at a restaurant? With you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to invite you to my house or visit yours. So a restaurant is really our only dinner option.”

His eyes fell to the floor. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow? Or maybe this weekend?”

His answer was barely audible. “I don’t think so.”

She understood. She really did. Maybe after meeting her face-to-face, his spark of interest had gone cold. Or maybe he was uncomfortable with public exposure because of his injury. But in either case, she’d stood someone up for the first time in her life because of him. Her stomach was growling. And she’d stayed at work an extra hour for a man who was giving out decidedly mixed signals.

He was happy to disrupt her dinner with another man, but didn’t want to have dinner with her himself? Fine. Good. Tomorrow, she’d reconcile those two facts in her head and regard them with her usual equanimity. But for now, her patience had reached its limit.

“Okay. No problem,” she said. “Then let’s tell Angie we’re ready to go. I’m hungry.”

As they locked up the building and walked out to the parking lot, she could tell Miles wanted to say something. But whatever it was, the words didn’t emerge from his mouth, even when Angie climbed in her car and gave them some privacy. And Mary couldn’t exactly force him to speak his mind.

“Good night.” She’d never learned how to hold on to anger or irritation for long. So when they reached his car, she couldn’t resist. She offered him a friendly hug, relieved once more that he stood in front of her strong and healthy. “Nice to meet in person at long last.”

But because her annoyance had only faded, not disappeared entirely—not yet—she pulled away quickly. And also vowed to herself that she’d let him take the initiative in any future physical contact.

“Yeah.” His mouth was tight, his lips downturned as they parted. “I’m glad we finally met.”

When he drove off, she walked over to Angie’s car. “Thank you for waiting for me. I appreciate it.”

“Is everything all right?” Her boss’s green eyes were searching. Concerned.

“Yes.” Mary offered a halfhearted smile. “But let’s talk about it tomorrow. It’s getting late, and I need to eat something.”

Angie’s forehead creased. “Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

As much as Mary loved Angie and Grant, she didn’t want to chat. “I think I need a quiet night at home. But thank you.” In an attempt to distract her friend, she added, “Tomorrow morning, let’s talk about a program idea I have. I’d like to do more to assist job-hunting patrons.”

With obvious reluctance, her boss nodded. “Okay. See you then.”

The two women said their good-byes and went their separate ways, Angie to her loving boyfriend and Mary to her silent home.

Well, not entirely silent. The television kept her company as she ate her Cobb salad and wrote out her proposal for the new library program. She had a long chat with her mother about which plants in her parents’ garden required weeding and fertilizer, and when she could come over to do the work. And in two other brief phone calls, she and her brothers agreed on good dates for her to babysit their kids.

The flurry of plans and conversations was almost enough to push aside her troubled thoughts. Almost. Her uncertainty about Miles and her niggling dissatisfaction at work refused to leave her brain entirely, no matter how firmly she tried to banish them.

Forgetting about Miles was a lost cause, she finally decided. Especially given the new voice mail on her phone, which she discovered right after taking a hot shower late that night.

At some point while Mary had been talking to him in the library, Angie had apparently called. For what reason, Mary had no idea.

The message itself only confused her further.

“Hey, honey. Just a tip from me to you,” Angie said, her voice so low Mary had to turn up the volume on her cell. “Press Miles about his life in California. Trust me.”

Mary played that recording a few times as she sat in front of her computer and watched her inbox, searching for a message from Miles that never came.

Press Miles about his life in California. Press Miles about his life in California.

Her bright computer screen hurting her eyes in the dark, she waited. Waited and wondered.