One of the books started to slide and they both reached for it. Their hands clashed together. Shock waves rolled up her arm, intensifying the burning in her elbow. Her startled gaze flew to his. Close enough now that she could see his eyes under the curled brim of his cap, she watched as they widened as though mirroring her own.
She searched his face, noticed the tightening of his jaw, the small twitch of his lips, before feeling the shifting pile of books and grabbing for them. Turbo’s hands reached out at the same time and they collided again, only this time she lost her grip on everything and it all fell down again. Papers and books back in a heaped up mess on the sidewalk.
Chapter 2
Turbo cursed his stupid clumsiness. Normally he was sure handed as well as sure footed, but Harris had the ability to bring out the very worst in him. Always had. From that time in high school when he’d accidentally dropped that entire can of red paint over her to the time he’d toilet papered her house thinking it belonged to the chemistry teacher who’d given him an ‘F’ despite the extra credit he’d paid the Valedictorian to do for him.
And of course, he’d had to joke about it. It was his default way of dealing with life. He’d been doing better lately, but again, Harris brought out the worst in him.
His mouth moved before he could stop it. “You did that on purpose just so you could see me on my hands and knees at your feet again, didn’t you?”
Harris’s mouth opened and closed, and he cursed his flapping tongue. It had been obvious the last time that her papers were uber-important. He should have been more careful. And he shouldn’t have joked about it this time. Harris never did think his jokes were funny. He’d had the biggest crush on her in high school. But the more he tried to make her laugh, the more annoyed she got at him. He’d finally given up. On making her laugh, anyway. The crush hadn’t gone away quite as easily. Kinda felt like it was still there, actually.
His eyes skimmed over the adorable freckles on her face, avoiding her glare, before he knelt at her feet. “Oh, Queen Harris, I pay thee homage...”
“Shut up, Turbo.”
He started to gather up her papers, which hadn’t scattered quite so badly this time. “I thought you liked Shakespeare.”
“That wasn’t Shakespeare.”
“It was pretty darn close. Give me a few more minutes and I’ll think of something that rhymes with Harris and really wow you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“What? Me wowing you? Of course it is.”
“You thinking,” she snapped, grabbing her papers with more force this time. She wasn’t even trying to keep from wrinkling them.
“Whatever.” He snatched up the last ones and straightened. “Here, I already have it. Oh, Queen Harris. I hope I don’t embarrass, you in Paris, with hair like carrots.”
If it were possible she jerked to a stop and her gaze drilled holes in his skull. “What. Did. You. Say?” She said through clenched teeth.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” He grinned. He hadn’t done anything offensive, nothing that involved paint or toilet paper anyway, so she had to be faking her anger. She’d be smiling any minute.
“You said my hair was like carrots.”
“Carrots kind of rhymed.”
“Have you ever read Anne of Green Gables?”
“Nope,” he said easily. He didn’t have to think about it. He’d never actually read a book.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
The thought finally hit him that she wasn’t going to laugh. And then he remembered why he avoided books, libraries, and most of all, librarians. Everything, every single thing, that they did reminded them of some ridiculous book reference. It was like they spoke in code most of the time. After all, when one didn’t read books, one hardly got the book jokes.
Harris had always had the mysterious way about her. Still, he’d crushed on her bigly, not just because he found her light, almost translucent skin with the overlay of freckles, green eyes and auburn hair fascinating, but because when she didn’t have her nose in a book, she was quietly seeking out and talking to the kids that seemed left out and alone. He’d seen her helping kids like himself with homework and reading assignments. Never him. But kids like him. The ones the teachers didn’t want to bother with because they’d already been labeled as stupid or slow.
It bothered him. Mostly because it was true. He was stupid. He was slow. And he couldn’t read. Which was why he avoided libraries and librarians. And it was why he’d told Harris no, he couldn’t help her put her papers back together. Without numbers, how the heck would he figure out which paper went where?
“Are you done insulting me?” Harris asked. One hip jutted out, but she had both hands in a death grip on the stack of papers.
“Are you done making ridiculous accusations?” he asked. When had he insulted her? He bent and scooped up her stack of books. “Come on, we’d better catch up to Pap and DeShaun. Pap can handle himself, but I signed him out of the home, so if anything happens to him, his daughters will be down my throat.”
She sighed and fell into step beside him, from the droop of her shoulders, she’d resigned to walk with him. Funny, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never been able to impress her. Guess some things never changed. He’d thought his little rhyme was pretty funny and kind of good for being spur of the moment.
He shrugged it off. Probably was too much of a stretch for the serious librarian to be interested in the brainless truck driver who couldn’t even read.
Harris’s phone rang.
He shoved the books into one arm and held his other out for the papers. “I’ll take them,” he said.
“No.” The word came out clipped, like she was angry, and he wondered what he’d done this time. Or maybe she was still mad from last time, whatever he’d done. She clutched the papers to her chest as she fumbled in her purse, one handed, for her phone.
She finally got it, swiping and holding it to her ear. “Hello?”
Turbo kicked a small rock off the sidewalk, listening unashamed to her conversation.
Harris gasped. “No!” A pause. “I mean, I’m happy for you. Thrilled....Yes, I know this is the opportunity of a lifetime. No, really. I’ll be fine...Sure, of course. Call your family. They’re going to be so excited for you...Thanks. I’d love tickets. Great...Bye.”
Her rigid posture slumped as her hand dropped to her side. She closed her eyes for a second and sighed.
“Hey, watch where you’re going.” Turbo grabbed her arm as she almost tripped over a weed-covered crack in the sidewalk.
“Thanks.” Her voice was soft and subdued.
“Someone killed your pet kitten?”
One lip pulled back, and she gave him a look.
“No? Worse?” He pretended to think. “Your mother’s stuck in jail in Iran and won’t make your birthday party.”
She gave a little snort. “That might actually be a good thing, but, no.”
A good thing? Interesting. “So, what could be worse than dead kittens and mothers in jail? Hmm.” He glanced sideways at her. Still no smile, but her face didn’t look quite as pinched. “The Russians developed a bug that destroys coffee beans and in ten days the world’s supply of coffee will be exhausted.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Maybe if that were cocoa beans and chocolate...”
“So that’s it? That’s what has you so bummed? Coffee shortage?” He shook his head. “Man, some people are so shallow.”
She did laugh that time and he felt a thrill of victory shoot up his chest.
“Hey. It’s not shallow. Millions of people are dependent on the coffee trade for their livelihood.” Her face fell, and Turbo was suddenly aware of dusk falling. “That’s not it. I’m raising money to buy books for the library in the new pediatric hospital that just opened by staging a production of Annie.” She lifted her arms a fraction, indicating the papers in them. “My leading man just got offered a role on an off-Broadway production. He
has to back out. We were supposed to start practicing tomorrow.” She threw her head back and exhaled sharply. “My scripts are a jumbled mess, I have no leading man, and if it weren’t so important for those kids to have access to books, I’d...”
“Go hide in your closet and hoard coffee beans?” Turbo suggested.
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Tough Talk Page 21
