Page 169 of Things We Left Behind
Naomi released me with a watery smile. “I’m going to godo something library related.” She gave Nash a peck on the cheek and headed for the stairs.
Nash pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked nosily.
“Telling my brother that whatever he’s buying Naomi, he’d better double it.”
I chuckled.
Nash stowed his phone. “I better get back to work.”
“Have a happy Valentine’s Day,” I told him.
His grin was a heartbreaker. “Will do.”
He made it all of four feet toward the door.
“Oops. I seem to have dropped my necklace,” announced Belinda, an elderly, busty patron who preferred her books steamy. She pointed at the huge crucifix that she’d just unfastened from her neck and tossed on the floor. “Be a dear and fetch it for me, Chief Morgan?”
Nash heaved a sigh and glanced my way.
I shrugged. “If you don’t pick it up, they’re just going to keep throwing things on the floor.”
“I’m ordering new uniforms with tunics,” he grumbled.
“The citizens who appreciate the male specimen would be devastated,” I warned.
He bent at the waist and hastily plucked the necklace off the floor.
“You just made this old lady’s day,” Belinda said, smugly returning the crucifix to her more than ample bosom.
“Might want to get that clasp checked, Ms. Belinda, seein’ as how it fell off in the grocery store last week and in the park the week before that.”
“I’ll do that,” she lied glibly.
Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone.
Me:Did you send me a case of sports drinks or do I have a stalker who’s concerned with my hydration?
Lucian:I thought it would be more appropriate than flowers and candy seeing as how I’m only using you for your body.
Me:You better be stretched and warmed up for go time. I’m not slowing down if you pull a hamstring.
The author event was a rousing success. Or “arousing” success, which was absolutely the pun I was going to make in the library newsletter for the week. The readers were excited, the author sold out of all the books she brought, and we ran out of wine before anyone got too tipsy.
“Go on home, Sloane. You’ve been here since opening. We’ll handle the clean up,” Blaze offered. As board members, she and her wife, Agatha, spent almost as much time here as the employees.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” I had another hour before Lucian would arrive to delight me with his penis.
“Positive. I’m sure you’ve got a handsome someone waiting for you.”
She was fishing for information, and I wasn’t biting. “What about you and Agatha?”
“We had our celebratory Valentine’s brunch this morning, then changed the oil in the bikes.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“Go on. Get out of here. We’ll lock up,” she said, shooing me away.
