Page 37 of Book and Ladder
When she walks away, Patrick returns front-and-center.
I mean to look menacing, or at least hard to reach, when I squint my eyes and glare up into his. His eyes are like soft black velvet, deep and absorbing, but unexpectedly warm.
Focus, Daisy. Looks are only skin deep.
I huff out a short breath. “So, now I’m your personal shopper.”
His answer is quick, his smile far too self-satisfied. “Only if you throw in the gift wrap.”
Winona giggles. I shoot her a look. Traitor. She slaps her hand over her mouth.
“It’s okay, Winona,” Patrick says. “We’re funny. You can laugh.”
“We?” I snap. I move my pointer between Patrick and me. “There’s nowehere.”
I’m practically itchy, standing here while Patrick acts as if he’s any other customer making a special request.
I don’t have a chance to tell him I’ll do a behind-the-scenes search for his book because a little boy walks over and tugs on Patrick’s leg. His family is new to town. I don’t know his name yet.
“Mister?” the boy asks.
“Yeah?” Patrick not only turns his attention to the boy, but he squats down so they’re eye to eye.
I’d have to stretch to see Patrick over the counter, though the child’s face is plain as day.
“I wanna be a fireman too. When I’m bigger. I’m not afraid of fire. I wanna squirt the hose and save people.”
I hear Patrick clearly even though I can only see the top of his jet black hair from my spot behind the register.
Patrick asks the boy, “Do you want to know a secret?”
The boy nods.
“I’m afraid of fire because fire is dangerous. So we always need to be careful. And we have to go to a lot of school to learn exactly how to fight a fire. And you never fight it alone. You have a crew.”
If only he followed his own rules. The contradiction between his words and the way he flew in here on a solo mission the other day should make me roll my eyes—not soften something in my chest.
To save you.My brain annoyingly reminds me of his words.
He was doing his job, I answer myself silently.
“Don’t fight fires until you go to the special school, okay?” Patrick asks the boy.
“Okay.”
“We’ll be looking forward to having you on the team after that,” he adds.
From where I’m standing, I see the boy beam with pride.
“Okay, Mister Fireman,” the boy says, turning to look over his shoulder at his mom who is standing near a shelf of books,giving her son the opportunity to speak to Patrick independently.
Winona approaches the counter with a customer carrying a stack of books. I step out of the way and duck into my office, where I stay until the shop is cleared of all local public servants.
“Are you okay?” Effie asks when I emerge.
“Yeah. Just worn out, I guess.”
“Well, you had a full week. Makes sense,” she says. But her knowing eyes linger on me.
