Page 144 of The Blessings of Christmas
Josie had always loved the library building. Slowing down after her short jog, she took in the old stonework, the three Doric pillars andSweetwater Creek Library 1893etched in stone above the entrance. Growing up, she’d spent a lot of time at this place. She loved to read. A bit of a tomboy, Josie had never really fit in with sewing or painting classes in grade school. Reading had been her retreat.
And it still was. Josie loved the smell of books, the feel of each crisp page. Electronic readers were fine and she owned one. But she still had a soft spot for hardcover books. The Sweetwater library had cozy nooks for reading. After she became the director, she’d added some comfortable chairs like the ones found in coffee shops. She wanted people to feel at home here.
Studying to be a librarian had come naturally to her. Her father had lovingly called her his bookworm. Some people might think being a librarian was a dull profession. For her the world of books was exciting and because of new technology, changes kept coming every day.
Malcolm had helped set that up. She credited him with taking them into a whole new world of library science, includingaccess to other collections. The library world had expanded. When would he arrive? He’d been vague about everything on the phone. Well, about everything but his engagement. Emily and Bryn had both looked so shocked when she mentioned that last piece of news. Right now they were probably huddled on some bench along one of the paths in the square, discussing the situation.
Entering through the library’s front door, she waved at Eileen at the main desk. Looking up, Eileen motioned with one hand, as if she wanted to speak to her. But Josie knew she was a mess and she held up one finger. Then she quickly skirted the stacks and the comfortable conversational groupings. She kept wipes in her desk drawer and planned on using them while she changed into fresh clothes in the women’s restroom.
Rounding the last row of books, she saw him. Her running shoes squeaked as she came to a halt. Josie's heart leapt in her chest. Malcolm was leaning against her door, the way he used to when it was time for a break. She struggled to catch her breath. How she wished that he’d gotten old and wrinkled from the fierce sun in the Amazon. But she knew that hadn't happened from looking at his Facebook page. No, far from it.
Tall and ruggedly handsome, Malcolm wore a pinstriped blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up on muscular forearms, with wheat-colored jeans. No socks of course, just dockers. He looked casual, cool and wonderfully familiar. His lips tilted into a mischievous grin when he saw her.
Why hadn't he told her he was coming today? Had she missed something? Right now she was a sweaty mess. Sweeping her damp hair off her neckline, she forced a smile. “Well, well. This is a surprise.”
Opening his arms, he pushed away from the door. “I told you I'd be here this week.”
No way was she stepping into a hug, not now. “But I didn't expect you today.” Angling around him, she shoved her key into the lock and pushed open the door. “I thought you said the end of the week.” Inside her office, dust moats floated in the morning sunlight that fell through the tall, narrow windows. She flipped on the lights and wished he still didn't affect her like this. Her pulse was throbbing in her throat.
“I'm eager to get started.” Malcolm's arms dropped and he followed her inside.
“Nothing going on in New York?”What about Darcy?Wasn't that the name he’d mentioned?
“Sure, but I've had enough of the big city.Thought you'd never show up.It's about time you got in.” He looked pointedly at his fitness watch that measured everything from his heartbeats to the miles he ran every day. She remembered the birthday when he’d bought it for himself.
“I've been outside and I'm a sweaty mess.”
“Right and I've never seen you like that before.”
Josie felt his chuckle along her backbone. But she also felt perspiration trickle down one cheek and resisted the urge to whip up the tail of her shirt to blot her face. Keeping him at a distance, she circled her desk.
“For some reason I wasn't expecting you until the end of the week or maybe next Monday.” Had she missed an email from him? But that would be unlikely since after his call, she’d searched for any email messages from him at least three times a day.
When Malcolm rested his hands on his hips, it made his shoulders look even broader. “Sorry. Things fell together so fast. I thought it would take longer to find a place to live and everything.” He gave a shrug of one shoulder. Yes, the ladies would be glad to find him behind the checkout desk again.
“So you found a place to stay?” Josie had done a little looking herself, once she got his initial message. And she had a place in mind.
“I did. Would you believe that I'm going to be living in the same apartment Emily lived in before she married Jackson?”
“Wow, that's great.” She pretended to be surprised, even though that was the apartment she’d found. Not that she’d admit that she’d been looking at possible apartments for him. “You'll be able to smell all that wonderful baking in the morning.”
Josie’s desk chair creaked as she slid into place. Maybe she should go on a diet. Maybe she should avoid Victoria's Pantry like the plague, especially now that Malcolm would be living right above it. Those chocolate croissants probably had contributed to the ten pounds she’d gained over the past year. Was she indulging in emotional eating? What would Emily say? She squelched her chattering thoughts and swallowed hard. “Emily's old apartment was so cute.”
“Yeah, the property was listed under Sweetwater Creek rentals.” Malcolm took a seat on one of the two upright chairs in front of her desk.
Picking up her to-do list, she fanned herself. Maybe the air conditioning wasn't on. But it wasn't that warm in December.
“I see you're still wearing one of our shirts.” And he waved a hand toward her chest.
“Am I?” Josie pretended to look down in surprise. She’d worn this shirt at least three times since he’d called. Malcolm was coming. Why not wear one of the shirts she’d gotten at one of the many runs they’d entered together? But no need to tell him that.
“Yeah, I remember when we got those at the Turkey Day Run in Charleston.” He whisked one hand over the stubble on his chin.
Casually dropping her hands to her knees, she squeezed. Maybe a little too hard. Anything to stop her palms from tingling as she imagined how that stubble might feel. Somehow she stretched a smile across her face. “Yeah, right.”
Propping his elbows on his knees, Malcolm studied his hands. According to the pictures he’d posted on Facebook, those hands had done a lot of good during his time away. He’d built housing for families, baked bread in stone pits and chopped fruits from the trees. He was one capable man. Capable and kind.
The kind of man I should be looking for.
