Milo loaded up his bread bowl with two kinds of soup that made an interesting concoction. Britta opted for a bowl of soup with one of the rolls that she had “brought” courtesy of Milo. For some reason, they tasted even better than usual.
After they finished eating, Britta walked with Milo to his car. “I can’t believe I almost completely forgot about the papers at the library.”
“I’m glad you did,” Milo said. “I mean— I’m glad you remembered so I didn’t have to take you straight home.”
Britta leaned back in her seat as they drove the few blocks to the library. “Me too. I didn’t want to go home yet. You’re pretty good company.”
Milo’s face split into a wide grin. “I think that’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”
“Considering today is Sunday, your standards can’t be too high.”
Milo waved a hand in the air. “The past week, then. Or maybe the best news in two weeks. Are you always this technical?”
Britta lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “It comes with the territory. Someone has to keep things in order.”
“Sometimes a little chaos can be a good thing, too. I’ve created some pretty fantastic pieces of music when I missed a few notes and went in a different direction.”
The air in the car was charged, and Britta worried that maybe she should’ve kept her thoughts to herself. Milo looked relaxed and confident as he parked the car and hurried over to open her door.
“Sorry again to be a bother. I can just run in and grab my stuff if you want to wait,” Britta said.
“No, I’d like to come in. I bet it’s peaceful with everything shut down … no one there.” He gazed at the stained-glass window as they walked across the sidewalk.
Britta walked around back to the employee entrance. She unlocked the door and gestured for Milo to follow her inside. There was one hall light on that cast a glow on the beginnings of the stacks of books.
“It’s beautiful.” Milo pointed to the scattered fragments of colors from the stained-glass window. The sun shone through the purples, greens, and blue glass overhead. Dust motes hung lazily in the air, and the light arced and flickered as a puffy white cloud raced across the face of the sun.
“It is beautiful.” Britta took a step forward and reached her hand into the purplish light. “When I first got my keys, I’d come over here to read on a Sunday afternoon and sit right there.” She pointed at the reading sofa pushed up against a cathedral-shaped window. “Somewhere between the hours of two and four o’clock, the sun comes through there and warms your back while you read. It always made me think of home. I used to curl up on the front room carpet in a patch of sunlight and read a book.”
“My sister used to do the same thing,” Milo said.
Britta nodded and struggled to clear the lump in her throat that had just formed. For some reason, she was emotional today. Maybe it was because she had let her guard down and given herself permission to get close to Milo. Or maybe someone had included a love potion in her soup, because she had the desire to be wrapped in Milo’s arms, her head resting on his chest. He made her feel safe and comfortable whenever they were together. Britta’s heart rate sped up, and she mentally shook herself free of daydreams that involved the curve of Milo’s upper lip.
She adjusted her purse and remembered the handful of lemon crèmes she’d purchased for Milo. “I almost forgot that I have more good news.” Britta reached into her purse and pulled out the white sack of candy.
Milo grinned. “This day just keeps getting better.” He opened the sack and inhaled. “Mmm. I say we break some rules and have one now— right here in the library.” He glanced from one side to the other, then carefully pulled out a chocolate and popped it into his mouth.
Britta laughed. “That is some pretty major rule-breaking. Eating chocolate in the library— ” She reached out to touch the spines of the books on the nearest stack. “— within two feet of the books.”
“But it’s worth it.” Milo shook the sack and extended it to Britta.
She ate a lemon crème and pretended to glance over her shoulder. “If Marian could see us now …”
“Here, you’d better hide the evidence in your purse until later.” Milo handed her the white sack containing two more lemon crèmes.
Britta put the chocolates in her purse, feeling that same charged energy with Milo standing close to her. She licked her lips, swallowing the last of the creamy chocolate, and inadvertently glanced at Milo’s mouth. He smiled at her, and leaned forward as if to say something when Britta blurted out, “Do you want me to show you the basement?” She gestured to the other side of the room.
“Could we? I wasn’t sure if anyone ever went down there.”
“Yes, we’ve had quite a bit of volunteer work going on to prep the basement for the new children’s area. A big portion of the fundraising will go toward that renovation and upgrading this lift.” Britta tugged at the metal cage of the lift and pulled it to the right to expose a metal platform rusted into a fine patina after decades of use.
“Are you sure this thing is safe?” Milo gestured at the rickety contraption.
“I’m sure. Don’t be a scaredy-cat.” Britta flipped the power switch, and a low groan followed by a reverberating thump sounded.
Milo jumped back. “What in the world?”
Britta laughed. “It does it every time. Come on.” She stepped onto the platform and motioned for him to join her.
Milo jumped in, making the lift sway slightly. Britta screamed and grabbed his arm. “Now who’s scared?” he whispered.
“That was not funny.” Britta tried to keep her expression stern, but then she started laughing. “Your poor brothers and sister. You must have tormented them like crazy.”
“What are brothers for?”
Britta gave Milo a tour of the basement, showing him how most of the garbage and debris had been cleaned out courtesy of a local youth service project. “Once we get the go-ahead, we’ll paint the walls in bright white, yellow, and splashes of other colors that will cheer this place up.”
“You’ll have to install some overhead fluorescent lighting here.” He motioned to the large, open room, where Britta imagined children gathered around a new children’s director who would bring books to life in their young minds.
“I’ve been working overtime filling out grants so that we could hire a children’s librarian. Everything has to fall into place perfectly to make the whole plan happen.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a hard worker,” Milo said. “I bet it feels good knowing that you’ll touch so many lives through this library.”
“Thank you.” Britta’s voice softened, and she stared at Milo. “You’re always so kind. Sometimes I feel like a prickly pear.”
“I think most people don’t mean me harm, so it makes it easier to deal with them.” Milo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you deal with about a hundred people to my one customer at a time.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say an unkind word about you, Milo.”
He stepped closer and took her hand. “My brothers would have to disagree, but I’m glad you think of me that way.”
Even though the basement was cool, Britta’s face heated with Milo’s sincere gratitude. She had that same strange desire to hold him— to be held by him. “Today’s been a nice day. I guess we’d better close up and get out of here.” She’d had to bite her tongue repeatedly as German words and phrases hung in the stillness between sentences. Milo’s accent continued to coax the memory of speaking her first language to override her careful English.
They walked back to the lift, and when the gate clanged shut, Milo put his hand over Britta’s before she could push the lever. “Thanks for seeing me.”
“It’s been fun. I’m glad you asked.” And kept asking was the unspoken ending to her sentence.
The inside of the lift could hold three people comfortably, but Britta felt the walls closing in on her. Milo put his hands on her arms
and then tipped her chin up with one finger. “I’m glad you finally said yes.”
She tried to duck her head, but he leaned closer, brushing a feather-light kiss across her lips. Her body filled with warmth, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on Milo’s chest. A fleeting warning came to mind that involved her meddling mother, but Britta forgot why she’d been so adamant about not dating Milo in the first place. All she could see was the dimple in his cheek when he smiled and the warmth in his blue eyes that invited her to relax into his arms.
“I’m not sure if stealing kisses in the library is allowed,” Britta murmured.
“I’m not stealing anything. This is kissing between the lines of any rules Marian could dream up.” Milo dipped his head and his mouth covered hers again in a kiss that exceeded anything she’d ever read about before. Fireworks, sparks, butterflies, rivers of emotion, shuddering excitement— all the descriptions from every romance novel couldn’t match Milo’s kiss. She clung to him, hearing the whoosh of the wind rattle the rickety elevator from above and the sound of her own heart beating next to his. Milo was real. He wasn’t a character out of a book. He wasn’t a German stereotype, a piano tuner, a New Yorker, or anything else. He was Milo— authentic, whole, and everything she’d ever wanted, but thought she couldn’t have.
His kiss deepened and she melted into his embrace. All the stress of the last few weeks evaporated like the remnants of heat in the elevator shaft, rising into the darkness. She kissed him and then pulled back, putting a hand to his cheek. “Milo, I …”
There were words on her tongue. Words that she’d vowed never to say to someone like Milo. But now she could taste them, the swelling of love within, his kind nature that encouraged and uplifted. She leaned forward and kissed the edges of his smile.
“What was that you were going to say?” Milo murmured.
Britta rested her head against his chest and sighed. “A little bit of everything, and all the things that a girl isn’t supposed to say to a guy on the second date.”
Milo rubbed her back and rested his chin on her head. “Me too.”
IF A HEART REALLY COULD SING, Milo’s was performing a full opera all on its own. Every time he thought of the stolen kisses with Britta in the library’s old elevator, his heart started thumping with new notes and he couldn’t stop smiling, which made it hard to hum to the music playing in his heart.
Milo wanted to help Britta realize her dreams for the Echo Ridge Library, not only because it would be great for the community, but because it was important to her. He’d lived in Echo Ridge for most of his life and could count on two hands the number of times he’d visited the library until Britta became the librarian. Books had never been his thing, but now he noticed the sparseness of his bookshelf and wondered what Britta might think.
It was Monday, the week of the Harvest Hurrah, and he still didn’t have his assigned book. He’d tried his best to find an old copy of Little Women, but the one he’d found would be late and for some reason he didn’t want to let Marian down because it felt like he’d also be letting Britta down. He was planning to drive over to Albany tomorrow morning for a special piano tuning appointment. He’d stop by the bookstore there and see if he could find a copy. As a last resort he could order online, but Milo didn’t like using computers. His dyslexia always hit him in full force when he was staring at the glowing screen full of words, flashing ads, colors, and fonts of all sizes and shapes. Just thinking about it made his eye twitch.
Milo pulled out his phone to text Britta. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He pushed the speak-to-text button and smiled at the tremor of excitement he heard in his voice.
Are you busy tonight?
Britta: Maybe.
Can you fit me and dinner into your schedule? I’d like to show you my place.
Britta: I’m free just after 6:30.
Milo: It’s a date then!
Britta: Only because I’m up for a challenge.
Milo: What’s the challenge?
Britta: Fitting you and dinner into my schedule.
Milo: I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Britta: See you soon!
Britta’s phone dinged with new messages every hour Monday morning as she coordinated last-minute work for the Harvest Hurrah. Her heart beat happily as she read every text from Milo. He sent little jokes, riddles, links to songs that she should listen to, and then kept apologizing for interrupting her work. Britta smiled and texted him back, loving the light and carefree feeling of falling in love.
When Milo invited her to his house for dinner, she had paused, holding her finger just over the keypad on her phone. Were they rushing into a relationship that would leave both of their hearts damaged? Milo’s grin and quick laugh came to her mind, and she remembered her earlier resolve to take a risk. She agreed to the date, and the rest of the day she smiled whenever she thought of Milo. Marian even noticed and asked her what was wrong.
It definitely didn’t feel like a Monday when Britta got off work without any delays and headed to her house to change. Everything had gone smoothly, and she felt like the committees finally had a handle on all of the celebrations that would start in just a few days. She changed into jeans and a soft blue sweater that brought out the color of her eyes. She always wore her hair back in a bun for work, because it just wasn’t practical to keep swiping the hair out of the way as she stacked books on shelves, carried packages back and forth, and worked efficiently at her desk.
Britta tightened her bun and looked in the mirror. Her face was clear, and for once the bags under her eyes had receded. When she was stressed, no amount of makeup could keep the haggard look out of her eyes. She examined herself in the mirror— her teeth weren’t perfectly straight, but she had a nice smile. What did Milo see in her? Britta had always thought of herself as sort of plain— pretty, but not in a stand-out way. Most people didn’t know that her slightly wavy blond hair fell past her shoulder blades. She took a deep breath, watching her shoulders rise and fall in the mirror, and then she pulled the hairband from her bun. Her hair fell around her face, and she imagined what Milo might think when he saw her. A thread of excitement wove through her stomach. Britta struggled with the brush to smooth out the waves and spritzed her hair to remove the dent it had from being tied up in a bun.
Her hair shone under the lights, the golden colors moving from light to darker blond. She guessed Milo would notice, and that he’d like it. The thought caused the fluttering apprehension to gel in her stomach. How could an act as simple as letting her hair down have so much charged emotion? For years, Britta’s mother had asked her to slow down, relax, enjoy life more, and quit working so hard. Britta never listened, because she thought her mom didn’t understand her way of life— so different from the traditional housewife that her mother had always been. But as Britta ran her fingers through the silky strands, she realized what her mom had been trying to tell her the last time she’d visited— “Britta, it’s time to stop running from who you are and live.”
“I am living. I’m successful and I’ve made a difference in this town.”
“You can make so much more than a difference if you’ll let yourself,” her mother had said. “You can make someone’s whole world.”
Britta walked out to her front room and looked at her surroundings. There were books piled on every shelf, with sticky notes, bookmarks, and various papers marking her spot. She never, ever turned down a page corner in the so-called dog-eared fashion that she found in many of the returned library books each week. Her life was about order— simple and clean order— but her mother’s words echoed in her mind.
Britta saw The Book Thief lying open on the arm of the sofa, and something pinged in her brain. She was now on page two hundred and forty, and Milo was right: the book was fascinating. Britta couldn’t read fast enough to find out more of Liesel’s story. But at the same time, she wanted to slow down and take tentative sips of the beautiful writing that Markus Zusak’s gifted mind had create
d. The German backdrop sparked a desire for Britta to visit the Fatherland just like her parents had always wished. Some of her relatives had made the trek, and her brother even took her parents about five years ago on a European tour. At the time, Britta didn’t have a speck of interest, but now she thought about what it might be like to visit Germany with Milo.
It was only twenty after six, so Britta sat on the sofa and picked up her book to read for just a few minutes.
IT WAS TEN AFTER SEVEN and Britta still hadn’t arrived. Milo knew she was busy, so he didn’t want to stress her out by checking up on her, but he couldn’t resist any longer. He skipped texting and called her cell phone. Britta answered before the second ring.
“Oh my goodness, I’m late! I’m so sorry, Milo. I’ll be right there.”
She didn’t sound stressed, but rather sort of excited and anxious at the same time. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ll just tell you so you can get your laughs all out before I get there. I was reading my book and lost track of time.”
“Wait, you were reading The Book Thief and that’s why you’re late?” Milo couldn’t keep the teasing note from his voice.
“Like I said. I’ll be right over.” She hung up, but the joy in her voice sounded in Milo’s ears. She must have had a really good day, or hopefully she was as excited to see him as he was to see her.
He gazed around his house one more time, trying to see it as Britta would. There were indicators of his music everywhere. His one bookshelf was stuffed with piano books, manuscripts, CDs, and a wooden metronome. Less than five minutes had passed when headlights trailed across the wall above his piano— Britta was here.
Milo opened the door before Britta could knock, and he sucked in a breath. Her hair fell around her shoulders, moving with the slight breeze outside. She looked so different— alive and beautiful. “Wow, you look amazing.”
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 8
