Page 3 of Daddy's Little Librarian
“Want to start tomorrow, two o’clock?”
“Sounds like a plan.” So, yay. He’d finally landed a job. Unfortunately, he was now a thirty-two-year-old ‘cabin boy’ scrubbing bathrooms at a place called Pirate Pete’s Squid House.
Monday struck again.
And yet, when Tommy held out his hand, Kurt obligingly shook it. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Standing up, Tommy said, “Now, if you’ll just tell me what size you are, I’ll go back and get your uniform, then you can be on your way.”
“Uniform?”
At that point, a teenager in tan short-pants, white tights, and the red and white-striped shirt of a sailor walked by to clean off a table. Kurt stared after him a moment, his eyes drifting from the white tights all the way up to the paper squid hat worn at a jaunty angle on the kid’s blond head. He closed his eyes for a moment, the pain of it all resonating through him.
Eight years in the military, four years on the police force, one gigantic mistake and a false conviction later, and it all came down to this: a thirty-two-year-old man in short pants, wearing a squid on his head for seven-fifty an hour. And for his own safety, he couldn’t even work the fry machine.
“I’m thinking you’re a large,” his new boss said and headed for the stockroom to fetch a uniform. The circle of hell was now complete. “Welcome aboard,” Captain Tommy chirped as he lay the pre-requisite shirt and tights in Kurt’s hand. “You’re responsible for your own pants. They need to be tan and, you know, pirate-y.”
Uniform shirt and new paper squid hat (some assembly required) in hand, his pride in tatters, Kurt headed for the nearest exit. With every step, he comforted himself with the knowledge that he’d probably never run into anyone he knew in a place like this. This was a big town anyway. What were the odds that, after this much time, anyone from his old life would even recognize him?
He pushed open the door and stepped outside into the warm summer sun, and damn near ran smack into Krissy Degrassi. She was a little older—three years almost to the month since she’d framed his ass—and probably out of high school now. She also had a young toddler in her arms, one who looked better dressed and better cared for than Krissy herself seemed to be. Her hair was unbrushed. The thick black goth makeup he was used to seeing on her was absent. And when she jerked back reflexively to keep from plowing into him, not only did he recognize her in a heartbeat, she recognized him.
Her face paled. Jaw dropping, she tightened her grip on her baby.
The restraining order was absolutely still in effect, but this was not his fault.
She backed up first.
New uniform in hand, he slipped past her. If he hurried, he’d look like he was running. He didn’t run from anyone, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run from her. So he walked—sauntered even—new uniform in hand and refused to let himself think about her, her kid, or what she’d done to him, because if he did, he’d only get angry and what good would that do?
He could barely feel the warmth of the sun on his shoulders anymore.
God, he hated Mondays.
Chapter Three
“I can’t wait to meet your grandson,” Scotti told the hunched, silver-haired woman who shuffled up to the checkout register, a stack of books in her arms. “Do you really think he’ll take the job?”
Laying her bounty on the counter with both withered hands, Sadie Doyle pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and beamed a confident smile. “Trust me, dear. He’ll be perfect for you.” Her gray eyes sparkled as she winked. “He’s big. He’s tough. He’s practically fearless, just like his grandfather—God rest him—used to be. Why, just the other day there was this spider—” Sadie spread her hands as wide as her arms would let her.
“Yes, but,” Scotti interrupted, not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to get distracted from the import of the topic at hand. Of all her regulars here at the library, Scotti loved Sadie the most. But that woman was a walking, talking distraction on the best of days. Hell, her distractions got distracted. Ginormous spiders aside, if she didn’t get Sadie back on track, heaven only knew how far off topic they’d be five minutes from now, and this was just too important for that.
The butchered pillow and mattress in her bedroom, which she couldn’t afford to replace, were proof enough of that.
She was out of time. It was proof of that, too.
“I can’t pay much,” she reminded the other woman. “That’s why no one else will take the job.” Well, that and the fact that no one believed her. Gopher was smart. Up until last night, he’d left no evidence of his stalkerish harassment. There was a lot of evidence now though, but when she took pictures of it into the police station this morning, they’d actually accused her of scraping her wall and destroying her bed herself. She huffed a frustrated breath and tried not to feel like she was taking advantage of her friend. Or rather, her friend’s grandson. “He’ll be risking his life,” she heard herself say, while her guilt tightened inside her. “Gopher won’t like that I’ve involved other people, and he isn’t just making threats this time.”
Smiling, the old woman reached across the desk and fondly cupped her cheek. “Don’t worry about the money, dear. Or the Gopher. My Kurt can protect you. And being as how he just got done working for the state, he’s temporarily between jobs. He’ll be more than happy with anything you throw his way. Believe me, that ex-boyfriend of yours will wish he’d never started all this. Who knows how my darling grandson will deal with it, but I assure you it won’t be half as gentle as being picked up by the back legs and dropped off the back deck into the garden.”
Scotti opened her mouth, but that mental image stopped her.
“I know.” Sadie nodded somberly. “I’d have flushed it down the toilet, too. Although, I’ll admit, your particular problem does deserve more than a good ol’ fashioned swirly!”
Sadie didn’t even know everything, either. Scotti hadn’t told her about last night.
Taking her silence for agreement, the old woman punctuated her declaration with a decisive nod and passed over her library card. “He’ll be coming to collect me soon. You can meet him now if you want to.”
“All right.” Not sure what to hope for, Scotti sorted through Sadie’s selection of books and logged them as checked out. Stuffing everything in the other woman’s tote, she signaled to another librarian that she’d be away from the checkout desk. Not that Sadie needed any help walking. For a little old woman pushing ninety-two, she seemed plenty spry enough to handle her own bookbag. But outside was a far better place to meet her potential new bodyguard, and so long as they stayed near the door and out of sight of anyone who might be spying on her from the parking lot, then they had a better chance of keeping the inevitable conversation that would follow private.
