Hearts on Hold

by Charish Reid

  Victoria fell quiet. She had talked her way into that one. The politics of hiring part-time adjuncts was a messy problem that extended well beyond their university. No, most institutions shouldn’t lean heavily on part-time workers, especially if those same workers couldn’t have access to health care, or job security. But most institutions saved money using contingent labor. These instructors generally needed to teach about six classes per semester just to make ends meet. Paula was only teaching for a little side money, but Victoria knew many instructors who would be hurting if just one class was taken from them. If she didn’t stop talking, her mouth was going to get them all in trouble.

  “I’m not teaching this many comp classes again, Kenneth,” Jennifer said with force. “You can give one of them to an adjunct who needs it because I’m done.”

  Kenneth held up his hands in mock-defense. “No need to get hysterical, Jennifer...”

  “I’m not hysterical,” Jennifer said, jabbing a finger at her schedule. “Since you’ve hired me, I’ve barely had a chance to teach in my area of study.”

  “You’re teaching the classes assigned to you. Next fall, we’ll see about giving you YA.”

  And with that, their leader was finished with the debate. The women folded their arms in protest, but that was about it. Time for discourse was officially over.

  “Now, if we’re quite finished with that, let’s move on to the next order of business. The distribution of our incoming majors...”

  Victoria balled up the remainder of her sandwich and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket. “Yes, Ken. How many students have we acquired?” she asked in a dry voice.

  He glared at her before shuffling through papers. “It appears we have five new prospects, all of whom would like to work with you, Dr. Reese. They’ve expressed interest in African American Literature.”

  As terrible a meeting as it was, a hopeful smile pulled at Victoria’s lips. There were new converts because of her. And Williams couldn’t take that away from her. She made a difference. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said with a humble nod. “It’s a great benefit for the whole department.”

  “Yes, well...” Kenneth trailed off with a perturbed expression. “Please remind them there are other facets of the program to explore.”

  “Of course,” Victoria said. “I’ll let them know to register for Children’s Literature. Jennifer, do you still have that awesome unit on representation in picture books?”

  Jennifer’s lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “I sure do. Send them my way.”

  “And Alison,” Victoria added. “I think your Victorian survey will pair nicely with my Post-Colonial Lit course.”

  Alison glanced between the two women before smiling. “Of course. We can give them the before and after of the British Empire.”

  Victoria faced Kenneth with a cheery smile. “There you go, Ken. Jennifer, Alison, and I will show the five new majors the ropes of the program.”

  Seeing the storm clouds in his face almost made up for the fact that he and his boys’ club screwed her and her colleagues out of their fair share of courses. Almost.

  * * *

  Victoria was exhausted.

  And her day was not finished. Her usual drive home was replaced with a drive to the public library. The job-shadowing with John had nestled in the back of her mind all day. More specifically, their text exchange continued to nag at her. He was perfectly professional during their short interaction, employing that same humor, so why did she feel guilty? After blowing through her house like a hurricane, searching high and low for that book, she’d collapsed in her bed and wrote the email. She didn’t know what prompted her to do something like that. She wasn’t normally driven to pen late-night emails. Part of her didn’t want John to think he’d ruffled her feathers. The other part of her had simply wanted to talk to him.

  Victoria had to admit she’d felt a thrill when he’d written her back almost immediately. When her phone vibrated on her nightstand, she’d smiled in spite of herself. Turn yourself in, Dr. Reese. She chuckled as she pulled her Volvo into the library parking lot. Just as John said, the cars were starting to clear out. Tuesday night would be a quiet work evening. She sat in her car for a few moments, getting her bearings. Still dressed in a black pencil skirt and white button-down shirt, Victoria hoped that she wouldn’t engage in any strenuous manual labor. Based on her observations, many library workers sat behind the desk or pushed a cart of books to the stacks. Surely it wasn’t that hard of a job.

  Victoria grabbed her purse before leaving her car and walked to the front entrance. Inside, the building was nearly dead. An elderly man was seated in the periodicals area reading a newspaper and a teenager appeared to be doing homework at the computer stations. There was one older woman manning the checkout counter. Just as she assumed, the woman sat on a barstool reading a novel.

  “Excuse me,” Victoria said, making her way to the counter. “I’m here to see John Donovan.”

  The woman, whose nametag read “Martha Crane,” set down her book and adjusted her glasses. “What’s that, hon?” she asked in a loud voice. The sound pierced the silence and made Victoria jump.

  “I’m looking for John Donovan,” she said, leaning forward and raising her volume just slightly.

  Martha frowned and turned her head. “Hon, you’ve got to talk into this side. My hearing aid is acting funny.”

  Victoria was used to librarians shushing her; not shouting at her. “I need John Donovan!” she said in a strong voice.

  “And you can have him,” said a familiar voice from behind her. “No need to shout...yet.”

  “Well there you are,” said the checkout woman. “Right behind you.”

  Victoria closed her eyes and willed the ground to open and swallow her whole. She practiced her irritated expression before turning around. When she did face him, Victoria inhaled through her nose. She didn’t know it was possible for him to look more handsome, but here they were. He was indeed more enticing than she remembered. John was dressed in a black Henley shirt and dark blue jeans. The Henley hugged his muscles in all the ways that yesterday’s denim shirt couldn’t. Victoria tore her eyes from his body and found that his face wasn’t too much better. His sandy beard quirked from pursed lips. Oh god, the beard...

  John’s eyes appeared to be taking her in as well. Her face burned as his gaze wandered downward at an achingly slow pace, before making their way back to her face. This momentary standoff of staring made her uncomfortable. She only hoped that she didn’t appear dumbstruck by his beauty. Victoria pursed her lips just to make sure her tongue wasn’t in danger of wagging. An easy smile stretched across his face as he sauntered towards her. “You got my book, Dr. Reese?”

  Victoria was once again startled by his ability to switch topics at a moment’s notice. She did hear him correctly. And you can have him... She knew innuendo when she heard it. Though it had been awhile. “No, I don’t, Mr. Donovan.”

  He sidled up to the counter, close to her, and said in a soft voice, “One way or another, I will come a-collectin’, Dr. Reese.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the old woman, who had returned to her book. Not even the deaf woman could save her. “I won’t have anything to give you,” she said in a low voice.

  “Is that a fact?”

  She drew a shaky breath and nodded her head.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” John said, dropping his gaze down to her shoes. “Are you going to be comfortable in those?”

  Now we are going to talk about shoes? Again, the sudden shift. The more he gazed at her body; the more naked Victoria felt. It was as if he was discarding one article of clothing at a time before settling on her shoes. “They’ll do just fine.”

  “I hope so, because your students will spend a lot of time on their feet,” John said, straightening away from the counter, away from her. “You might want to remember
that for next time.”

  “Next time?”

  “You didn’t think I only needed one night with you, did you?”

  There! There it is again! Her brain was actually shouting at her. The way his voice dipped to a dark rumble, the way his lips lifted at the corner in a cocky half grin. He’s definitely flirting with you!

  Victoria ignored her brain and gaped, “Yes, I did actually.”

  John rubbed the side of his bearded face and frowned. “Oh no, Dr. Reese. We’ve got a couple more nights together before you understand the nature of the job.”

  All of this could have been put in an email. “Fine...”

  “Great,” he said with a clap of his hands. “Let’s get started.” John walked towards the offices behind the counter, beckoning her to follow.

  “I’ve always wondered what was behind the counter,” she said, taking note of the carts of books and computers.

  “My office is just through here,” he said over his shoulder. “You can leave your purse there before we get to work.” His windowless office was a bit smaller than hers and plastered with reading posters and famous children’s book jackets. His desk was a disaster. It was a cluttered mess of papers, books, and empty Styrofoam cups that once held coffee. “Sorry for the mess. I keep meaning to get around to a spring cleaning.”

  Victoria smirked. “It’s autumn.”

  He actually appeared to be embarrassed. “So it is.”

  Framed photos also occupied his desk. One featured two women, one black and the other white, possibly in their sixties, drinking margaritas. The other photo was the one that caught Victoria’s eye and held her attention. It was a black woman and a small girl who appeared to be her daughter. The photo was taken while the woman was mid-laugh, her dreadlocks wound in a careless bun that sat at an odd angle on her head. She and the girl were both quite beautiful. Victoria’s heart dropped slightly as she glanced at John’s bare ring finger. Ex-wife? “She’s lovely,” she said, gesturing to the photo.

  John looked down at his desk. “Oh, Jessi? Yeah, she’s great.”

  Is she? “Is that her daughter?” Victoria asked.

  He picked up the photo and examined it thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s Becca, my niece. I took this picture when she was about six or seven. She’s twelve now.”

  Victoria was oddly relieved, but also a little confused. “She’s your niece?”

  His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “We get that a lot. Jessi is my twin stepsister. We were the same age when my parents divorced and my dad married her mother.”

  She nodded. “Oh, I see.”

  “My dad died when we were seventeen. After that, we grew pretty close and we’ve been best friends ever since.” He picked up the other photo with the older women. “And our mothers became best friends as well.”

  The relief flooded her as she nodded along, and she felt foolish for it. There’s nothing for you to be relieved about. It’s none of your business anyway. His romantic attachments are none of your concern. “That’s nice,” she said politely.

  “Do you remember being twelve?”

  The abrupt question made Victoria chuckle as she did the math in her head. “It was twenty-two years ago, so barely?”

  John nodded. “Yep, it’s been a cool twenty-six for me. I ask because I’m taking care of Becca for a couple of months while Jessi is abroad for her job.”

  “Ahh, so you’re now thrust into a father role.”

  “Being a fun uncle only gets you so far,” John admitted. “Becca is so smart and so...”

  “Tempestuous?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s a terrible age,” Victoria said. It was heartening to see another side of the man who rattled her with his charm. Underneath that façade, he was insecure about caring for a child. “They’re so doubtful at that age; too caught up with what everyone thinks of them.”

  “I tried to tell her as much, last night. There’s a tiny part of her that’s still willing to listen, but I don’t know... Hollingsworth Academy is beyond my control.”

  “It helps if she has people in her corner when she gets home from that place,” Victoria said with a grin. “Keep listening to her without too much judgement, and she might continue to talk to you.”

  John set the photos down on his desk and tossed a few of the empty coffee cups in a wastebasket. “Thank you. That’s sound advice, Dr. Reese,” he said, maneuvering around his desk. “Now let’s get you in the stacks.”

  Just when she thought it was safe to lower her guard and talk about something else, he was switching gears again. He moved swiftly, brushing against her as he exited the office. An electric charge traveled swiftly up her arms and to her heart. With a deep breath, Victoria set down her purse and followed him.

  Chapter Eight

  “Are you familiar with the Dewey Decimal System?” John asked.

  Victoria struggled with the stack of books balanced against her jutting hip. “Of course,” she said as she stopped the top book from sliding off. He carried a stack of ten books with the ease of a seasoned cocktail waitress.

  “Good, which books are located in the eight-hundreds?” he asked, watching her shift her stack around.

  “Easy, literature.”

  “Okay, how about the four-hundreds?”

  Victoria searched her mind for that area of the library. Four-hundreds are... “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.

  “You’re standing next to the four-hundreds,” he said.

  She frowned before looking at the books around her. “Languages? I’m not in this area often.”

  “That’s fair, but your students are going to have to study all of these areas if they want to shelve correctly.”

  Victoria, a former straight A student, was strangely disappointed that she didn’t know every square inch of the nonfiction section. “Right.”

  “And the books you’re holding?”

  She craned to check the spines of her books, tipping them to the side. “These are nine-hundreds. History, I’m assuming?”

  “Yep, go ahead and shelve those while I work on biographies.”

  Victoria shifted the books to her other hip as she followed him towards a more secluded spot in the non-fiction area. Near the back, there were two unoccupied study rooms with the lights switched off. When she found her assigned section, she propped her books on an empty space and shook out her arms. They were already shaking under the weight. Behind her, John had already set out to do his work.

  In the quiet space, Victoria was more aware of their proximity. Right behind her, John’s movements were quick-paced while she lagged behind, studying the numbers. She now felt guilty about leaving books in the wrong place when she didn’t want them. After she shelved a second Revolutionary War book, Victoria sensed a shift in the air. There was a warmth at her back that wasn’t there before.

  “I’ve got the Vietnam War in my pile,” John said. Why did it seem like he had whispered it into her ear?

  She saw the book and his extended tattooed arm wrap around her before she could react. A tiger and a Celtic cross. She took the book without replying and searched the numbers for its place. It was on the bottom shelf. Victoria crouched down, bumping against John’s legs. “Sorry!”

  He stepped back. “No worries.”

  Heart pounding as she balanced on her high heels, Victoria slipped the book in the correct place. Is it getting hot in here? She shook out the collar of her blouse, fanning cool air against her neck and chest. When she stood, she quickly moved to the next book. “Oh, doesn’t this Roosevelt book belong in biographies?” she asked turning to hand it to him.

  They bumped into each other, her book knocking into the stack he held with one arm. Books tumbled from his grasp and onto the floor.

  “Sorry!” she said, stooping to gather them.

  H
e knelt beside her. “Dr. Reese, I’m getting the sense you don’t respect my books.”

  He was close again.

  Despite the heat emanating from him, she tried to laugh. “I do respect books, Mr. Donovan.” God, he does smell like the forest. Victoria tried to steady the tremor in her hands as she picked up the books.

  “I have yet to see evidence of that,” he said, taking four books in his massive hands. “And I think you’re mistaken. This goes in the World War II section.”

  They stood together, Victoria weaving slightly on her feet, her back brushing against the History shelves. Her breathing had changed; her pulse quickened. John moved closer to her with Roosevelt in hand. “Does it?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He crowded her senses, pushing reason right out the door. As he held her gaze, he reached around her and placed the book to the left of her waist. However, his hand remained on the spine.

  Victoria tried not to smell him. She tried not to tilt her head back and close her eyes. Citrus, fresh soap, birch. She bit her lip and willed her body to ignore his. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “I’m new on the job.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. He had not stepped away and she did not want him to. “That much is evident,” he rumbled. The hand that had held Roosevelt fell on her wrist, his calloused fingers circling her with a gentleness she hadn’t expected.

  Victoria didn’t move away. “But I’m a quick learner,” she breathed.

  John raised a brow. “Is that a fact?”

  She licked her lips and nodded her head.

  “Learning sometimes requires the student to relinquish control, Dr. Reese. You hardly seem capable of that.”

  She wasn’t imagining his flirtatious tone or how scandalously close he stood. His hand was on her wrist, thumb stroking her riotous pulse. He was also issuing her a challenge: could she give up control? “It’s been a long time since I was a student.”

  John smiled down at her. “Not too long, I hope.”

  Her brow knit in confusion. “Wait, what are we talking about?”