Right Kind of Wrong

by Sara Rider

  4

  “He wants to help. How ridiculous is that?”

  “Geez, sounds like a real jerk,” Eli said, sweeping the broom right next to Julia’s feet so she had to step back from the bar she was currently wiping down.

  “Thank you!”

  Eli put the broom down and looked to Jake, giving a little shake of the head, which Jake promptly returned. “Definitely a jerk. To think someone wants to offer assistance with an important task at their place of employment.”

  That should have been the point when she realized they were making fun of her, but she was ashamed to admit it took Eli tossing a rag at her head to clue in. “The Holy Grale is a family business and all of us need to pitch in.”

  “Julia,” Jake said in his growly voice. “Cleaning is not in your job description. And yet, you are here every single day helping us wipe down the bar. The other day you even volunteered to clean the bathrooms. No one volunteers to clean a bar bathroom.”

  “It’s different.” She picked up the cloth and continued wiping, trying to hide the pinched look that had undoubtedly overtaken her features. Her feelings about her role at the Holy Grale were already complicated. She knew she’d done a fantastic job setting the place apart from its competition and turning it into a lucrative destination for events, but she was still just an employee. Eli and Jake were her family, both literal and found, but they were also her bosses. If push came to shove, she was the expendable one.

  Eli poked her in the butt with the edge of his broom. “How?”

  She tossed her rag at him. “Because I’m actually helping.”

  “I don’t understand what your problem is with the librarian,” Eli said, tossing the rag back. “Librarians are the best. Those giant brains that know everything. Those sexy cat-eye glasses, and high-collared button up shirts begging to be undone slowly. The way they shush you with that quiet dominance.”

  “We’re talking about real librarians. Not librarians in porn movies.” Her cheeks flushed as she immediately thought about the drawing she’d made and subsequently lost. She didn’t like to admit she and her brother were more alike than not.

  “He’s got a point,” Jake said. “If the guy wants to help, why not let him?”

  “Because,” she started to say. She didn’t know how to finish. Because Fergus was infuriating? Because he looked at her like she’d just dog-eared the pages of every book in the large print section? Because in spite of all that, she was still incredibly attracted to the man? “Because he’s grumpy and stubborn and doesn’t play nice with others. Because he thinks he’s right about everything and doesn’t admit that there are things in this world his giant ego doesn’t know. Because—”

  She stopped, put off by the strange way Jake and Eli were looking at her. Or, rather, looking at the spot just over her shoulder.

  “Don’t stop because of me.”

  Julia spun around so fast, she nearly fell over. Fergus was standing in front of her, looking like an angry giant that had just climbed down the beanstalk to exact revenge on the unsuspecting townsfolk. “What are you doing here?”

  “You left before we had time to plan out the event, so I figured I’d come to you.”

  “How’d you know where to find me?”

  “I’m a librarian. Information is my specialty.”

  She crossed her arms with a huff. “You could have called or emailed instead.”

  “I could have come through the window, too.”

  Julia could feel Jake and Eli’s curiosity ratcheting up a few notches behind her. Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of crimson. “You didn’t have to come at all.”

  He looked around the bar, taking in the stained glass windows and tall ceilings, but she couldn’t tell by his stony impression if he was impressed or not. “Well, I did. The sooner we start talking about the event, the sooner we can be done.”

  The man had a point. “Fine. We can talk in my office.”

  She turned to lead him to the back hallway where the offices were located, but Eli caught her arm. “Please don’t piss this guy off. As your big brother, I know I’m supposed to offer to beat him up if you need me to, but I don’t think I can take him. Not even if Jake helps. His biceps are bigger than my head.”

  Fergus didn’t say anything, but Julia would have sworn she saw a flash of humor hiding in his glaring brown eyes.

  “No one’s beating anyone up. I’m just going to take Fergus back to my office to explain my vision for the Love Your Library event, after which he will recognize my genius in all its glory, and promptly agree with everything I say. Right?”

  “Let’s just start with going over your ideas,” Fergus said.

  She started for her office and let the loud, commanding clack of her heels on the wood floor communicate her opinion of that plan. It wasn’t a particularly large or impressive space, but it was beautiful. She’d added chic geometric wall stencils, an antique white desk, and a blackboard on the backside of her door, on which she listed out her major to-dos in well-practiced calligraphy. The white and teal accents brightened the space without competing with the dark wood and overall church vibe of the Grale. Most of her files were kept at her apartment for space-saving reasons, so she’d never felt crammed in. Until now.

  Fergus was so big, he dwarfed the chair beneath him. All she could see and smell and think about was him. She couldn’t stop herself from picturing him reaching his giant hands across the desk and pulling her to him for a searing kiss, clothes and inhibitions disappearing at the speed of light.

  He set his palms on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “Those gloriously genius plans…”

  “Right, of course.” She grabbed the binder she’d made for the event and flipped open to the vision board she’d created. “As you can see, I think we need to lean in hard to the red and pink Valentine’s decorations to counter all the dull gray tones in the library. Balloons, streamers, that kind of thing. It’s affordable and screams fun. That’s the goal of the event. We need to remind the donors of what it’s like to be young and so excited to visit the magical world of books.”

  She paused briefly, searching for a reaction. She didn’t get one. She flipped the page. “Instead of the typical silent auction, I’m proposing we do a blind date with a book auction. We can solicit authors for donations to make it a little extra enticing. We can do a mystery book with tickets to one of those murder mystery cruises. A sci-fi title with some kind of fancy gadget or one of those Star Wars Lego sets. And of course, a romance with champagne and bubble bath.”

  A reaction, finally. Not much of one, but for a man whose face looked like it had been carved from stone, a simple jaw tic was as much of a reaction as she was going to get.

  “You hate it.”

  His thick eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses. “No.”

  “Yes you do. I can tell by way you’re looking at me.”

  His jaw ticced again. “How am I looking at you?”

  Her throat went dry. She knew that was just his face. His incredibly handsome, jaw-cut-from-steel face. “Like you have a bad case of resting serial killer face.”

  This time he did frown. “That’s not a real thing.”

  “It is with you.” Yep. He was definitely plotting her murder at this very moment. “What do you think about my ideas?”

  “They’re gloriously genius.”

  She crossed her arms. “Be serious, please.”

  “I am. But I have some suggestions.”

  She had no idea how to read this man. Most people who disagreed with her were loud and vocal about it. “Okay, let’s hear them.”

  “Last year’s fundraiser supported the development of a vital new catalogue. We should show them what it achieved.”

  “You want to show them a catalogue?”

  “A really impressive catalogue that $78,000 and months of hard work and overtime bought.”

  Julia rubbed her forehead. “The donors are there to have fun. As impressive as your catalogue is, it’s
not going to get them to open their wallets again. People donate to libraries because they believe in the magic of books. They don’t need to see the technical underbelly that makes it all come together.”

  “Libraries are about more than books.” He spoke quietly. Firmly. But the conviction in his voice felt like a lion’s roar.

  “I know, but people are donating because they love books. They don’t want details of things that will bore them. They want fun and excitement. I was thinking we can set up photo booths for people to dress up and pose to mimic different book covers.” She flipped to another page in her binder with different cover ideas—a noir detective story with a fedora and trench coat. A gothic horror with a floaty white nightdress. And her favorite, a classic romance clinch cover, complete with a ball gown. “Come on, haven’t you ever wanted to pose like a cover model?”

  Those dark eyes narrowed even further until they were nothing but angry slits. “No.”

  God, this man was frustrating. “Why not? Would you rather bore the guests to death with a riveting demonstration of your new catalogue? Maybe teach them the intricacies of the Dewey decimal system while you’re at it.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “You know what? You were right. I’ll sign off on whatever you want to do, as long as I don’t have to pose in those stupid photographs.” He stood up and walked out, leaving her a little stunned.

  She got up and ran after him. “Wait—”

  He turned back to look at her. “Thank you for your time. I’m sure you’ve got it all handled.”

  Guilt threaded through her ribs, pulling them tight against her lungs. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Fergus. Please, can we try again?”

  He blinked, tilting his head sideways like he needed to look at her from a different angle to make sense of what she’d just said. “You’re apologizing? To me?”

  Over his shoulder she could see Eli and Jake staring at her with concerned expressions. Whether it was from worry for her safety or confusion that she’d actually apologized, she didn’t know, so she ignored them.

  “It’s part of the job to know when I’m right about something and when I’m wrong. If this is important to you, then it should be important to me. Why don’t you tell me a little more about what you had in mind and I’ll try to come up with a way to work it into the event?”

  She held her breath. How had she managed to screw this up so quickly? The last thing she needed was for Fergus to complain to the Mayor about her.

  Fergus scrubbed his jaw. “All right.”

  Julia exhaled, nearly dizzy from relief. They returned to her office and she shut the door, knowing Eli and Jake would be listening in.

  When Fergus was once again seated, she closed her binder and tucked it out of sight. “Okay. Tell me what your vision is.”

  “Last year’s funds created a catalogue system with a simple, searchable database and tons of accessibility features we didn’t have before. Patrons can find any resource in our system from a single search bar. It’s compatible with phones, tablets, and screen readers. It’s almost ready to launch. I was hoping we could time it with this year’s fundraiser.”

  “That sounds amazing.” Actually it sounded rather tedious, but there was something about the way the timber of his voice changed that fascinated her. Passionate but somehow also nervous. She didn’t think a man who looked like he’d been cast out of Valhalla for being too beautiful could be nervous, but how else could she explain the faint flush of pink on his perfectly sculpted cheekbones? “What are you planning to use this year’s funding for?”

  “Programming. We need more literacy classes, especially for our patrons who don’t speak English as a first language. And our children’s area desperately needs a new rug. We need to… There’s a lot we could do with more money.”

  “You should do a speech. Just a short one, but you can talk about the reasons you’re so passionate about what you do.”

  “I’d rather give a demonstration. A prerecorded PowerPoint presentation.”

  She smiled. Was Fergus MacNair shy? She’d created such an image of him in her head based entirely on his looks, she hadn’t realized how much she’d gotten wrong. “Donors relate to people, not presentations. Why not give it a try?”

  He shifted in his seat and ran his hands along his jeans. “It’s not my thing. Maybe Alice could do it if she’s back in time. Or one of the techs?”

  “Look, I’m going to be frank. You’re a…” She steepled her fingers and searched for the right words. “Commanding presence.”

  His eyes narrowed like she’d just insulted him.

  “I’m trying to compliment you.”

  “Try harder, Frank.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, oh wise one. Please teach me the appropriate way to compliment someone. Should I focus on your knack for stony silence? Or your proficiency in scowling?”

  “If I were complimenting you, I’d start by saying you have excellent handwriting, you are very organized, and you have excellent taste in books.”

  “Thank you,” she said warily.

  “I’d also tell you that your enthusiasm for your ideas is infectious and inspiring, even if I don’t agree with all the plans,” he continued, speaking quickly as though the words would disappear if he didn’t get them out fast enough. “And I think it’s amazing you could come up with all of this in a single day, and you’ve figured out how to lay out the entire vision in your head in a way that is clear for others to understand. You make it look effortless. That’s a rare skill.”

  She cleared her throat, at a loss for words for the first time in her life. Not just because no one had ever said that to her before, but because she always wished someone would. So much of her job involved making everything look easy when it was actually painfully hard. “Thanks.”

  He nodded, the faintest hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

  Julia fussed with her notes, taking a moment to collect herself before looking at him again. He was the most confusing man in the entire world. One moment, she was sure he hated her. The next, well, he said things like that. She took a deep breath, determined to start over and get them off to a good start. “The most important thing is that you’re passionate about the new catalogue. That’s going to resonate with the donors, which is why I want you to give the speech about it. But it also doesn’t hurt that you are, objectively speaking, a tall man with classically handsome features and the donor list is primarily women. It shouldn’t matter but it does.”

  Another tic formed in his left eye, pulsing like it had a defective battery.

  “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to, but I think it would be good. I could help you practice.”

  The tic ramped up another notch.

  “I promise it won’t be so bad,” she pleaded. “Just trust me.”

  “Okay,” he finally said, rubbing his hands against his thighs like it hurt him to speak the word.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, as long as you don’t give me a hard time about it.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  He smiled, finally. She’d never seen him smile before and it amplified his handsomeness a hundred times over, leaving a strange, fluttering in her belly.

  “Okay, then. We have a deal?” She reached her hand across the desk. When he took it, tingles exploded along her skin, right down to the soles of her feet.

  “We do.” He held on to her a fraction of a second longer than necessary and for a moment she let herself wonder if he hadn’t felt the exact same spark. But he let go nearly as quickly. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”

  Fergus tried to ignore the knocking at his front door, but it wouldn’t stop. The harsh sound carried through his house like an implausibility of gnus was stampeding down his hallway. He set down the sketch he’d been doing on the coffee table and trudged to the front door. He peered into the narrow window lining the side of the door. “Go away.”

  “I brought beer.”

  Fergus scowled but open
ed the door. Ian, his next-door neighbor, didn’t even wait to step inside before pulling a bottle from the six-pack and handing it to Fergus. “Taste this before you give me a hard time.”

  Fergus did, and damn, was it good. He looked at the label and found himself frustrated all over again. This was one of Julia’s beers.

  He’d been struggling to get her out of his mind since that night he’d gone to see her at the Holy Grale. Something had changed between them. It was unsettling. His attraction to her was no longer some abstract thing he could ignore or explain away. It had congealed into something real and tangible and propulsive. A big sentient blob of frustration inside him eating away at his brain cells.

  “Hey, this is good,” Ian said, picking up Fergus’s sketchbook.

  Fergus snatched it away. He wasn’t shy about his art—he had a number of his pieces up on his walls—but he preferred they be viewed when they were finished. He’d always been drawn to art, particularly sketching in pencil, because it was a quiet, almost meditative activity that let him shut off all thoughts for a short while. He’d majored in art during his undergrad, but there weren’t a lot of opportunities for a stable career in that. He’d gone on to do Library and Information Sciences in grad school, but he’d never been able to give up sketching as a hobby.

  “So, what’s for dinner?”

  Fergus glared at his neighbor, but it made no difference. Ian was the human equivalent of a golden retriever. Unperturbed, he flopped onto Fergus’s couch as if it were his own. Fergus sighed. “Pizza.”

  “Again?”

  Fergus glared once more.

  Ian put his hands up defensively. “Fine. Fine. If you’re buying me dinner, I guess I can’t complain. As long as you don’t order onions on the pie again.”

  The muscle in Fergus’s left eyelid started to tic, but he resigned himself to his fate. Ian had been dropping by unannounced and uninvited ever since the day Fergus moved in. Fergus had done his best to shake him off. He’d ignored him, been unaccommodating, and even been downright rude, but nothing dissuaded Ian from the notion they were instant best friends. And so Fergus had learned to put up with it.