Page 80 of The Overdue Kiss

I U-turn at the inn and stop at the library’s entrance, where a long queue of impatient women snake down the street.

“Is this all for the grand opening?”

“I don’t recognize them, so they can’t be locals.”

Maya squeezes my stomach and nearly brings up my breakfast. “Is that the Denver7 news van parked by the antique shop? Who called the local TV? Maybe this was why Mr. Sherman was calling me earlier. I would be panicking too.”

“If that’s the case, maybe I should just drop you off and pick you up after everything settles down.” Sweat beads up on the back of my neck at the thought of talking to all these people. Is it too late to drive home and hide?

She tickles my sides, distracting me from my anxious thoughts. Squirming, I bring my elbows in and halt her attacks.

“I knew I was going to regret telling you that.”

Laughing, she climbs off the bike and trails her hand down my arm. She moves away to remove her helmet, unaware of the fireworks she set off in me at the gentle touch.

I grab her hand before she can unhook it, debating on reeling her back to me one last time.

“Maya,” a voice calls out. Mr. Sherman stands at the corner, waving for her to hurry inside.

I groan, wishing everyone would just give us two minutes together without being interrupted.

“Don’t you worry. We still have reservations at Belle Notte tonight. You’ll still get your alone time with me.”

I grasp her hip, curling around the soft denim, and guide her closer until she bumps against my thigh.

“Promise?”

Grinning, Maya unlatches her helmet and pulls it off, sending my heart into a frenzy at the seductive look in her eye. She loops an index finger under my helmet, wipes the loose dust off the front, and presses a loud kiss on my closed visor.

“Shoot, Maya. Don’t go...” I struggle with the strap of my helmet as she saunters away. Why is it when I need to get this thing off in a hurry, it never works? Eventually I give up, slouching dramatically over my handlebars as I stare at her through the ruby red lip print she left behind.

“Tonight, Mr. Brooks,” she calls out, waving.

I rev the motorcycle as she walks away to get her attention. She blows me another kiss, and I catch it in my gloved hand, placing it on my heart before taking off down the street.

My sister jumps out of the crowd to stop me, almost getting run over in the process. Before I can give her a piece of my mind, she points to the auto shop across the street, gesturing for me to pull into an empty space in the garage.

After I park, I hang back from the crowd, watching the ceremony from across the street. The town chipped in for an oversized ribbon which Maya and Mr. Sherman have the honor of cutting together. The Denver7 reporter travels around the crowd, interviewing excited patrons who refuse to leave their place in line. Even theGolden Transcriptis here, snapping pictures.

I’m doing the same thing, holding my phone out to get a shot of the two librarians shaking hands, which will be a perfect addition to the library’s history wall.

“I’d just like to say something,” Mr. Sherman says, raising his hands so the crowd dies down. “This lady next to me barged into my library one day... and it changed my life. She renewed my faith in the future generations of readers and taught me how to download my first digital book. The love and dedication she has to her career is beyond commendable. She fought for this library and spent weeks, including weekends, implementing the changes you’ll see inside. So, please make sure you stop by and thank this kind soul. She has truly been such a blessing on our little town. My great-great-grandfather would be proud to see what she has accomplished.”

The crowd applauds, and I join in, throwing in a whistle for good measure. Maya blushes in humble gratitude, her eyes searching through the sea of faces until they land on mine.

I hold up my hands, clapping for her.

“Without further ado...” She grabs the front door and opens it. “The new and improved Rocosa Library is open to the public. Please come on in and make sure you sign up for a library card if you haven’t already.”

It’s hard to believe this is the same library that was down the street my entire life. The triggering smell is gone, replaced with paint and refreshments provided by the local restaurants. The inside is bright and clean, the plush new carpet well worth all the hours it took to install. Books with vibrant covers are displayed on tables through the space, which passersby snatch up as they walk past.

The children’s corner is full of young kids, and I’m surprised to see Robbie reading a book to a group sitting on the floor.

Not only is the place operational again, but it’s full of life, like the heart of the building is pulsing and bringing the community together again. And it’s all thanks to Maya’s vision and hard work.

For the next few hours, she is in her element, talking to patrons and high-fiving elementary students as they enjoy the new facilities. Even Gladys Monroe stops by to congratulate her, and she checks out a new cozy mystery in support.

When the crowd thins out, I sneak up to an exhausted Maya and slide an arm over her shoulder, which she immediately snuggles into. No hesitation, no fear, just trusting me as she said she did.

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