Page 6 of Reluctant Chemistry

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As she pushed the cart into the next row and slotted books into place, CeCe fought to calm her racing heart. Luka was a chopper guy! A tall, lean, golden-tanned chopper guy. She stood at the end of the mountaineering section and watched him stroll over to the desk. He pulled his card from his wallet and handed it to Miss Libby, an avid reader in her seventies who’d volunteered as receptionist off and on for the past twenty years. Smiling at each other, the two chatted for a few minutes, and as he turned to leave, CeCe ducked into the row beside her, holding her breath as her hand calmed her chest.

She grinned.

Some men wore their threads well. Their shirts hung impeccably from the shoulder while jeans hugged their butt without compromise. That was him—Hot Chopper Guy: rescuer of girls who tumbled down rabbit holes.

Slowly making her way over to the desk, she stared after him as he crossed the foyer. Miss Libby cleared her throat, and when CeCe met her gaze, she winked. “Nice, eh?”

CeCe chuckled. “Very nice.”

“Not the right age for either of us, but I sure could get lost in those gorgeous brown eyes.”

CeCe picked up another load of returns and stacked them on her cart. She’d noticed Luka’s eyes too, and the wordbrowndidn’t do them justice. They were more of a cognac. “Plenty of young guys go for older women like you.”

“So they say. I saw a documentary on the TV about it once. But I’ve had my cougar experience. Fun while it lasted, but these days, I get all the romance I need from reading.”

“Cougar experience? Tell me more!”

Miss Libby leaned back in her chair and looked up as if replaying the scene in her head. “I was in my late forties, and the guy must have been just shy of thirty. He came to deal to the grass grub in my lawn. Said my décolletage fascinated him.” She laughed. “I was fascinated by his stamina.”

CeCe tried to imagine Miss Libby as a younger woman but failed. She wonderedif women still felt sexual in their seventies, the thought making her shudder. “Did you ever marry?”

“No, not me. I had a couple of proposals, but I preferred having the freedom to come and go as I pleased, to see whoever I wanted on my terms. I had no interest in losing myself in a man’s world, and that’s what happened in my day. It worked for some, but not for me. Now I’m alone. No kids either, of course.”

CeCe already knew Miss Libby had no children and sometimes contemplated what it must be like to be in your seventies with no one to call your own. “No regrets?”

“We all have regrets, but it’s best not to dwell on them. Mind you, if I were thirty years younger, that Luka fella could slot his boots under my bed any day of the week. I like them tall with a tight butt.”

CeCe snorted a laugh. She seldom experienced an intense physical reaction to guys, especially not older ones. Travis, a year younger than her at seventeen, had worked hard to pique her interest. Luka wouldn’t have to work hard. Her interest was already well and truly piqued.

It seemed Travis had been wrong. She wasn’t boring; she was bored.

3

Tennessee Whiskey

The Burger Shack’s decor had remained unchanged for many years. But the new owners had recently spruced up the place, replacing the original Formica tables and orange chairs, and lining the walls with a mix of corrugated iron sheeting and honed concrete. They’d even added vegetarian options to their menu.

Other than that, they still had the same jukebox—albeit with an updated playlist and a jar of coins for those who didn’t carry small change—still served their shakes in ice-cold soda glasses, and still made the best hand-cut fries in town.

CeCe strolled up to the counter and ordered two black bean and mushroom burgers, a large fries, and a couple of strawberry shakes. Seated at a table by the front window, Molly checked her texts. The two cousins were complete opposites. Molly—all makeup, designer clothes, and flat-ironed hair—loved fashion, social media, and high heels. CeCe, who was more of a tomboy, preferred jeans to dresses and considered a lick of mascara and some natural lip gloss a made-up face.

Her change clutched in her hand, CeCe crossed to the jukebox and pushed a couple of coins into the slot. Meghan Trainor’s voice filled the room as she returned to the table.

She took a seat next to Molly, so she could watch the world go by while checking her texts. “You know when I twisted my ankle the night of the party?”

Molly’s gaze remained glued to her phone, her manicured fingers flicking across the keypad. “Yeah.”

“Well, that guy came into the library yesterday.”

Molly looked up as the server delivered their order. “What, to see you?”

“No, to get a book. But he’s seriously cute—well, when he smiles. Otherwise, he looks kinda moody.”

Molly grinned and raised a questioning brow. She didn’t need words to make her point—her expression talked for her.

“What?” CeCe asked.

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