Even though I have zero interest in fictional crime stories, I do have to admit that the plot sounds brilliant.
I like seeing how animated he becomes when talking about his work. How his eyes seem to brighten even more when he shares his ideas for the story.
I ask how he comes up with the concepts for his books. The mind of a writer has always fascinated me. How they come up with a story. How it forms in their minds.
They build these whole worlds that readers can get lost in. It’s incredible.
Jack shrugs and tells me that it just comes naturally to him. Something that he has always been able to do.
An idea will appear, and then it will just grow quickly until it becomes the whole story.
“Do the characters talk to you? Like, you actually hear them in your head?” I ask, dying to know the answer.
He smiles, his lips lifting at one corner. “If I said yes, would you think I was crazy?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard before that many writers hear their characters, almost as if they were real people to them.”
He chuckles. “My friend …” His eyes move away, looking down at the counter. “The one I mentioned last night.”
Something uncomfortable lodges in my chest, and my stomach tightens into a thousand knots. “The one who lives in Australia?”
The same friend who I’m fairly sure is an ex-girlfriend. The person who sent his manuscript off to a publisher. The reason he got his first book deal.
The ex-girlfriend that I think he still has feelings for.
“Yeah. Well, he used to say that there was a fine line between being a writer and having schizophrenia.”
“Should I be worried?” I laugh, lifting my brows.
Jack widens his eyes, giving me a crazy look. “Maybe …” He grins.
Sniggering, I get up from my stool and start helping him clean up.
“Leave the plates in the sink,” I tell Jack, glancing at the clock. “I really should set off for work. I’ll wash them when I get home tonight.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Just let me get my things together, and then we can go.”
Five minutes later, Jack and I exit my apartment. I’ve got the helmet he bought me in my hand. He stops by his apartment to put Eleven back in there. He puts down fresh food and water for her and grabs his laptop. Then, we head out.
And Jack holds my hand the whole time.
I can’t even explain the way it makes me feel. But it is definitely something that resembles happiness.
We exit the building into the cold air. At least it’s not snowing at the moment.
We make our way over to his bike. Jack gets his helmet out of the bag on his bike while I put mine on. I have finally figured out how to fasten it. Though I do miss Jack doing it for me and having him close.
But then I get to have him as close as I want, as often as I want.
That thought makes me smile.
I get on the bike behind Jack. Snuggling in close, I wrap my arms around his waist.
The journey to my work takes all of five minutes. Jack parks the bike. He leaves me at the library doors with a kiss and a promise to see me soon. He’s coming in the library to write today, but it doesn’t open for the public for another twenty minutes. So, he goes to grab some coffee from the coffee shop.
I head inside the library, thinking about the first time I saw Jack in here. I can’t believe it was only a few weeks ago.
A lot has changed in that short period of time.
But I know better than anyone how things can change in the blink of an eye.
Nope. Not going anywhere near those bad thoughts today.
Today is a good day, and nothing is going to spoil it. Especially not thoughts of my past.
“You look happy today,” Margaret comments as I stand in the doorway to her office.
“What?”
“Happy,” she repeats. “I said, you look happy.”
“Oh.”
A normal response would be, Don’t I always look happy? But I’m not even going to waste my breath saying something that would be a lie because I don’t usually look happy.
Happy hasn’t been my thing for a long time.
But apparently, I am today.
And I know exactly why.
Jack.
I’m just still not sure if it’s a good idea or right and fair for me to be feeling even a scrap of happiness when others can’t because of me.
“Well, it’s nice to see,” she adds when I don’t respond further.
“I just came to check on what you need me to do today.”
“If you could work on the desk again, that would be a big help.”
I don’t relish the thought of being on reception and checkout, but I also don’t hate the idea as much as I once used to.
Standing at that desk means I will have full view of the library. Where Jack will be sitting.
“No problem. Have you heard anything about Mike?” I ask her.
Her face drops, and I immediately feel bad for bringing it up.
“No,” she says quietly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I’m quick to say.
She gives me an unhappy smile. “You didn’t. It’s just the situation as a whole is sad.”
I nod my agreement. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” I tell her, not knowing if it will be and knowing what things can be like when they’re not. “They will find Mike, and everything will get cleared up. Try not to worry.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” She gives me another forced smile.
“Well … I’ll head over to the main desk,” I tell her.
“Would you mind opening up the doors for me?” she asks before I leave.
“Of course.”
“Let me just get you the keys.”
I wait while she rummages around in her bag before she finds them and holds them out for me to take.
“Don’t worry about bringing them back, just leave them in the drawer under the counter. I’ll get them later.”
“Will do.” I take the keys from her outstretched hand and then make my way through the library to open up.
I feel bad for bringing Margaret down just then. But it’s not long before my thoughts are back to Jack, and I’m smiling again.
But my happy bubble doesn’t last for long when Detectives Sparks and Peters walk through the doors of the library only minutes after I unlocked them.
The computer we use to check out books hasn’t even had a chance to fire up when they come strolling in.
I put the keys in the drawer, like Margaret asked me to, and wait for the detectives to approach.
I start to feel a nervous, jittery sensation in my body. Worrying that they know who I really am. What my past is.
“Good morning,” I say to them when they reach the desk.
The library is empty, except for me and the detectives.
Our other staff member, Derek, is in the upstairs stacks, putting yesterday’s returned books away.
“Audrey Hayes,” Detective Sparks says my name. There is an edge to his tone that I don’t like. “We’re here to speak with your boss. Is she here?”
“I’m here,” Margaret says, coming up behind me. “Do you have news of Mike?” she asks them.
“Can we talk somewhere private?” Detective Peters says.
“We can talk here. As you can see, there is only us here.”
Detective Sparks’s eyes flicker to me.
“I can leave you alone.” I go to move, but Margaret stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Stay. Please, Detectives, can you tell us what is going on?”
“We recovered a male body late last night, which we identified through dental records as Michael King.”
Margaret gasps next to me, covering her mouth with her hand. I’m just standing here, not knowing how to react. What to do.
Hearing about death is not new to me.
“Ho-how
did he die?” Margaret asks.
“We can’t determine cause of death until the autopsy is done. I hate to ask … but we have been unable to locate a next of kin. Do you know anything of Michael’s family?”
Margaret shakes her head. “He didn’t have one. He came from foster care. His parents died when he was young. No other family. I think he was close to one of his foster parents. I’m not sure of her name though …” She’s shaking her head, clearly distressed.
“Don’t worry. We can locate his details through the local foster agencies now that we know that is where we need to be looking,” Detective Peters says.
I can feel eyes watching me. Detective Sparks is just staring at me.
It’s unnerving as hell.
I look away, turning to Margaret, giving him the side of my head.
Her eyes are wet with tears. She gets a tissue from her pocket, dabbing at her eyes.
“I just can’t believe it,” Margaret says.
I put my arm around her. It seems like the right thing to do. “I know; it’s awful,” I say to her.
“Do you know if there is any connection between whoever killed Mike and the person who killed Sarah?” Margaret says.
“We’re not at liberty to say,” Detective Peters says. “We are sorry to be the ones to deliver this news and also for your loss. We’ll be on our way now. But if you think of anything that could be important—”
“I’ll call you,” Margaret assures the detective.
“And you too,” I hear Detective Sparks say, and I turn my eyes to meet his. “The same applies to you, Miss Hayes. If you think of anything that could help us in relation to this case or the death of Sarah Greenwood, then make sure you call us.”
I hold his eyes and nod. “Of course.”
I watch the detectives leave, a queasy feeling in my stomach.
I hear Margaret sniffling, pulling my attention back to her.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she says. “I know we weren’t super close, but it’s still so hard to hear.”
“I know,” I say, trying to comfort her. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go home? I’ll hold down the fort here.”
Her gaze meets with mine. I feel a pang of sympathy at the tears in her eyes. She is such a kind person.
“Yes, I might do that. Thank you, Audrey.” She pats my arm with her hand. “You still have the keys to lock up later?”
“They’re in the drawer,” I tell her. “I can bring them by your house on my way home—”
“Not necessary.” She waves me off. “I have a spare set at home. Take the keys home with you and then just bring them back in the morning.”
“Okay,” I respond.
She gives me another sad smile. “Well, I’ll just grab my purse, and then I’ll be off.”
“Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll be fine.”
Another smile, this one a little brighter. “I know. Thanks again, Audrey.”
Jack walks into the library fifteen minutes later. His laptop bag over his shoulder, two coffees in his hand.
His eyes seek me out, and a big smile lights up his face.
I love that I bring that smile to his lips.
He walks over to the reception desk.
“Hey.” He sets one of the coffees down on the counter for me. “I brought you a coffee.”
“I need it. Thanks.”
“Rough day already?” he teases. “It’s only been forty minutes.”
A lot can happen in forty minutes.
“The police were here a bit ago. Mike … they found his body. He’s dead.”
“Jesus,” Jack breathes. “Did they say what happened to him?”
I shake my head. “No. They said they can’t give out details regarding an open investigation. They only came here to inform Margaret and to ask if she knew of his next of kin.”
“Poor guy.”
“Yeah. It’s awful. Margaret was terribly upset. I said I would stay late and close up the library for her, so she could go home.”
“You’re a good person.” He’s smiling at me in that way he does. Like he sees something in me. Something good.
The only problem is, if he keeps looking at me like that, making me feel this way, then I might just start to believe it for myself. And that would be a problem.
“It’s not a big deal.” I brush his words off. “Still doing my same job. The only difference is, I’ll be locking up the place.”
“So, that means you have the keys to the library.” There’s a suggestive tone to his voice. His brow lifts. Eyes glinting with that sex look of his that makes my stomach tighten and the spot between my legs start to tingle.
“It does.”
He leans closer. His mouth only a few inches from mine. “I could hang around today. Spend the day writing. Help you lock up later …” His smile is all foxlike. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you here, all alone, in this big, old library. Doesn’t seem safe.”
My stomach muscles all clench, creating a delicious feeling between my legs. “No”—I shake my head—“it doesn’t.”
The smile that we share in this moment is something that is ours only.
I don’t need the words to know that Jack wants us to do it … well, that he wants to do me … in here after I close the library doors for the day.
And I am fully on board with that.
Like I would ever say no to having sex with Jack anywhere.
And doing it here, when no one else is around, just him and me in this big, old library, it seems incredibly hot.
As does the anticipation. Knowing that I will have to wait all day to feel him. Kiss him. Take him inside me. All the while watching him from across the room while he works on his book.
Can anyone say sexy as hell?
Sweet Lord, I am a lucky girl.
I know I’ve done nothing to deserve this. But I’m holding on to it while I can.
I know that’s selfish, but it is hard to be anything else around Jack. I want him so much.
Jack taps his fingers on the counter, that sensual smile lingering. “Enjoy your coffee, pretty girl. I’m going to get some writing done. See you later.” He winks, and on anyone else, it would look stupid. But on him, it looks damn good.
Then, he walks away toward the area where the desks are, and I stare at his ass the whole time.
Today has been actual torture.
I thought the anticipation of waiting for sex with Jack would be a good thing. And it is. Kind of.
But with the object of my desire sitting across the room all day, looking his usual gorgeous self, while I watch him write—with the furrow on his brow when he’s thinking, the stroke of his pen against his notebook when he’s making notes, the sight of his fingers … fingers that I am well acquainted with and wholly aware of their capabilities and the levels of desire they can bring to me—well, I’ve just been getting more and more turned on as the day has gone on.
I’m actually sweating. All day, I have been distracted by thoughts of Jack and sex. My thighs have been pressed together more than once today in an attempt to ease the ache. News flash: it doesn’t work. My body is overstimulated. Every time my nipples brush against the lace of my bra, it’s actual agony.
And trust me, when you’re waiting for something, the clock has a tendency to slow down to a snail’s pace, and the clock on the wall here has been annoyingly creeping through the minutes.
It has been a long-ass day.
Half a dozen times, I’ve been tempted to just drag Jack to the women’s restroom with me, so he could screw me right there and then.
But I honestly haven’t had a spare minute to even take him to the restroom with me even if I dared to do it. The worry of getting caught and letting Margaret down has been playing with my conscience. Even though the horny devil on my shoulder has definitely been pushing for a restroom quickie.
With Margaret not being here, I have been handling everything that she does on a daily basis as well a
s doing my own duties.
We’re a staff member down with Mike … well, with him gone.
It has been a lot to take on.
I didn’t realize the half of what managing a library consists of.
It makes me glad that I’m only a librarian and not the manager of one.
Running a library is not on my list of things to do ever again.
I breathe a sigh of relief when it’s time to finally shut the doors and lock them up for the night.
Jack is working on his laptop when I walk over to lock the doors after the last person leaves.
When I turn back around, I see Jack is away from the desk now. He’s standing by the window, staring out of it. The windows down here are privacy glass. You can see out, but no one can see in.
It’s still light outside. The evening only early. Snow is falling again.
I stare at his profile for a moment, taking in the strong line of his shoulders. How his jeans mold to his tight ass. The way his hair curls at the nape of his neck. Remembering how it felt to run my fingers over that very spot.
He turns, looking over his shoulder, catching me staring.
I have two choices. Look away and pretend I wasn’t watching. Or smile and admit defeat.
I go for the latter. At this point, pretending anything with Jack seems fruitless.
He grins in return.
I wander over to where he’s standing, taking the spot beside him.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask him softly. Even though it’s only the two of us right now, it still feels odd to speak in a louder voice in here.
Our eyes meet in the reflection in the glass.
His lips lift at one side. “You.”
Goose bumps break out over my skin at his word. Desire coiling low in my stomach.
“Awfully pensive look on your face to be thinking about me,” I tease.
His eyes move from our mirrored connection to look directly into mine. “I’m never pensive when I think about you, Audrey. Only horny.”
That makes me laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You’ve made me this way with your sexiness.”
I’m pretty sure my eyeroll can be heard across the room. “Sure I have.”
“You have.”
He turns his body toward mine. Taking my hand, he tugs me into his chest. “I have never been this hot for anyone before.”
Dead Pretty Page 16
