Page 15 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Lisset asks.
Clearing the sentimental lump from my throat, I offer her an approximation of the truth. “I guess I realize how much I miss coming here, how much I miss reading.”
Lisset slants me a sly look. “You can read my books then.”
I ruffle her hair. “Nice try, my little schemer.”
We traipse over to the children’s section. It’s a delightful area of the library, full of color and dotted with small desks and chairs, reading nooks, and even kid-sized bleachers for story time.
I’m surprised to see that those bleachers are currently filled with children of all ages. Even more surprising is the small crowd of smartly dressed ladies hanging out in the children’s section, either sitting awkwardly on tiny chairs, standing on the periphery or leaning against the bookshelves. I suddenly remember that Thursday evening is story hour, which generally gathers a crowd, but this crowd seems bigger than it usually is. And the women nearly outnumber the children.
Frowning, I follow their enthralled stares. When I glimpse what’s holding their attention, I go rigid with disbelief.
A familiar-looking, powerfully built man wearing dark jeans and a red T-shirt is sitting on a stool with a black dog at his feet.
Lisset notices him at the same time. “Mom, isn’t that our new neighbor across the street?”
“I believe it is,” I say, trying to hide my dismay.
What did Tess say the man’s name is? Gideon Walker.
For the past week, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid bumping into him. No walks around the neighborhood. Closing my curtains early. Taking the trash out in the afternoon. And now here he is. In the library, of all places.
“What’s he doing here?” Lisset asks.
Good question. I take in the scene in front of me. “It looks like he’s reading to the children. No, wait,” I amend, “they’re reading to him.”
I study the man again through narrowed eyes, cataloguing his dark blond hair and short-trimmed beard. His strong profile. He’s certainly a compelling figure, I admit, watching him listen to a young ginger-haired boy next to him reading a book out loud. Waiting her turn is a girl with pink-framed glasses clutching a sparkly pink book. The expression Gideon wears is serious and attentive. Every now and then, he flashes a warm, engaging smile, triggering a collective sigh from the ladies closest to me.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Are we that hard up for entertainment in Brown Oaks?
“Mom, you’re wrong. The boy isn’t reading to the man”—there’s a note of curious wonder in Lisset’s voice—“he’s reading to the dog.”
That gets my attention. I look more closely. She’s right. The boy keeps shooting glances at the dog—I think it’s a greyhound—who’s staring intently at the boy, occasionally cocking his head to the side when the boy stumbles over a word. Gideon is keeping quiet, seemingly okay to let the boy and dog interact.
When the boy finishes reading, Gideon smiles and congratulates him, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling through the library.
I feel a stirring across my skin, a sensation I haven’t felt in so long I almost don’t recognize it for what it is. Interest.
Oh, no.No. My interest is...theoretical. Merely curiosity about the new owner of the house directly opposite mine. Let the women in here fawn all over him. I won’t be one of them.
Abruptly, Gideon Walker lifts his head and his eyes collide with mine. His stare is so intense it feels as though he’s stripping me bare. I want to desperately look away, but I can’t shakeoff the sense that if I drop my gaze first it’s a concession of some sort. I hold his stare, even though my skin is burning and discomfort sits like a rock in my chest. We’re stuck in a childish staring game that doesn’t feel in any way childish.
“Isn’t he the yummiest morsel to move into Brown Oaks?”
I startle, glancing over at Janine, who’s materialized next to me. She’s the estate agent who sold me my house. A mom of three teenagers, she has a personalizedHot Momlicense plate and favors sharp, colorful business suits. More importantly, she cannot, for the life of her, keep a secret.
I tilt my head at the throng of ladies in the children’s section. “He’s certainly generating a lot of interest. I’ve never seen story hour so full before.”
She lets loose with a belly laugh. “Yep, news travels pretty fast around here. Especially if it involves a handsome bachelor.”
I make a noncommittal sound.
“Is that why you’re here?” she asks, smiling. “To also check him out?”
“Me?” I feel my eyes widen. “No! Uh-uh! Absolutely not!”
Janine’s blue eyes widen too. Perhaps I was a little too vehement.
