Always maintain an element of hope in your demeanor. A gentleman always appreciates optimism in a young lady.
PEARL CHAMBERS, The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
Abby Gray rushed to get the last of the books shelved in the Smitten Library. Tonight her book group met at Lookaway Village Books, and the evening offered one of the rare occasions she got to be out of the house. She looked forward to discussing the books and to seeing her friends, so when several last-minute patrons entered the library, she frowned.
“We’re closing!” she said as cheerily as possible as she stood and peered over the long wooden counter. She never wanted to discourage reading. The other patrons turned and left, but Wyatt Tanner emerged from the group, holding up a stack of books in one hand and grinning. She noted how easily he raised the pile of hardbacks and thought he didn’t exactly seem like the reading sort. More like a guy who spent endless hours at the gym. But with the amount of time he spent in the library, there had to be more to him. If he didn’t render her speechless every time he sauntered into her domain, she might be able to find out what it was.
Wyatt did a lot of computer work for the library through his consulting business, but he was rugged. Tanned skin and lines etched around his mouth from extensive time outside. Looked as though he could hold his own in a street fight. If ever such a thing happened in Smitten, he’d be the one you’d want on your side. The way he looked at her was . . . smoldering and intense.
Wyatt had been volunteering at the library for the past year, converting their card catalog to digital. But Abby loved that the Smitten Library still had its historic card catalog, and that her library science degree still meant something. The Dewey Decimal system simply wasn’t as romantic when plugged into a computer. Any monkey could scan a code, but she adored the backup system; the dusty, aged smell of the cards and wood combination when someone opened a drawer was an homage to the old ways.
“So . . . should I come back tomorrow, then?” Wyatt asked with a disarming smile. He had a small freckle on his bottom lip. When he grinned, it captured her full attention.
She smiled. “For you, I’ll make an exception.”
She took the books from him, and his fingertips brushed hers. She bristled at his touch. Wyatt may have been an avid reader, but from what her friend Molly told her, he also loved extreme sports and challenged his body in ways she thought foolish. That, combined with his desire to streamline her library, made her feel tongue-tied in his presence. He simply had a dangerous air about him that made her want to cower into the safety of her small life.
“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee to make up for keeping you late?”
She slid each of his books through the scanner. “Not necessary. You’re all checked in. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get the lights out and be on my way.”
He stood up straight, his eyes wide at her easy rejection.
“Is there anything else?” she asked him.
“Do you want some help with the lights?”
She stammered. “Th-that’s nice, but I have a system so that I know I’ve gotten everything turned off.”
“Oh. Gotcha.” He made no motion to leave; instead, he followed her as she went to hit the lights in the back. “You know, I read your library picks every month. I thought we might have a great discussion on them. You know, give me your professional viewpoint.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “I’d hardly call my opinion ‘professional.’ I’m just a book lover like you.”
“Did you notice what I read this month?” He looked down at the books he’d just handed her.
“You read Persuasion?”
“I did. ‘I am half agony, half hope,’” he said, quoting one of her favorite lines.
She had to admit, he was good. Very smooth.
A red-hot heat rose in her cheeks. “I must give you credit. It’s not many men who will read Jane Austen. Unless they have to for school.” She still wouldn’t look at him directly for fear that he could read her easily—like any book.
“Jane’s not so bad. I can appreciate her humor. Her cynicism.” He walked alongside her, shortening his long stride to stay beside her as she flicked off more lights. “I took you for a Mr. Darcy girl, because I know how you like things the way they are. But now . . .” He rubbed his chin. “Your reaction makes me wonder if you don’t harbor a latent aspiration for risk. Maybe you’re a Captain Wentworth fan.”
“I’ll make it easy for you. I like Captain Wentworth’s sense of adventure,” she told him, practically bursting to discuss her favorite hero. “It’s the antithesis of my life.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Why prove what he already knew? That she was the quietest mouse in town. She lived like an eighty-year-old woman. He didn’t need to know it. But worse, why did she care if he knew?
He moved closer to her. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up. I’ve been trying to . . . What kind of adventure would you like to have, Abby? It’s my specialty, you know. Why don’t you come out on one of my outdoor adventures? You’d have a blast. And I’d take good care of you. I’d bring you back in one piece.”
She shook her head. “I’ll live my adventures through characters, thank you. In fact, I’m late for my book club as we speak.” She buttoned the top button on her cardigan. “Your weekend treks that I’ve seen advertised . . .” She stared across the library at the community board. “They seem like the stuff of Hollywood action movies.”
“Only because you haven’t tried them. You haven’t lived until you’ve soared off the side of a mountain on a hang glider or climbed a sheer granite cliff with—”
“Actually, I’ve lived very well doing none of those death-defying stunts.” She put a hand to her hip. “Do you know what you need, Wyatt?”
He rested his chin in his hands on the counter. “What is it I need, Abby?”
“To learn to enjoy life without the adrenaline rush of nearly losing it.”
“What makes you think I don’t?”
She didn’t have an answer for that.
“What makes you think that I can’t enjoy myself sitting in Mountain Perks and drinking coffee across from a beautiful librarian?”
She lifted a brow and crossed her arms. “What do you want, Wyatt?”
“I want to have coffee with you, Abby.”
“No, I mean, really.”
“I really want to have coffee with you. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
She bent down to unplug the copy machine. “I have a lot of responsibilities at home. Friday night is my one night out, and my calendar is full with my book group.”
“Your one night out, and you let loose with the wild book club crowd, huh?”
She didn’t know how to take Wyatt. He seemed to have a dry sense of humor, but she never understood if he was teasing or serious. The other librarians always giggled when he was around, but without their reactions for cues, she felt fairly clueless.
“That was a joke, Abby.” He grinned at her playfully. “I think it’s great you go to a book group. Very cool.”
She smiled uncomfortably. “Right.” She paused and gathered her thoughts. “I take care of my mother, so I go home early after work and get her dinner. On Fridays I go to book club.” Riveting. She must sound absolutely riveting.
He stared at her blankly.
“I’m trying to explain why I don’t go out very often. I appreciate your offer of coffee, but I’ve usually got to get home.”
“What are you, twenty-five, Abby?”
“It’s impolite to ask a woman’s age.” She gazed down at her feet, noting that they, too, were dressed like an eighty-year-old woman’s. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“Are you a morning person? What about in the morning, before work? People have coffee in the morning, so it would be perfectly reasonable that we meet then.” He paused. “To discuss Persuasion. And something else. Something I’ve been putting off for far too long.”
Whatever Wyatt was up to, she felt drawn to him as if someone had attached a winch to her waistline and was cranking it slowly, pulling her out of her imprisoned, muddy bog toward his carefree, sunny escape. “Persuasion seems appropriate, since you’re using that power to entice me.” She dropped her forehead in her hands as she realized that she’d said such a ridiculous thing aloud.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I need to go. I’m late for book club.”
As she finished her rounds, she faced Wyatt, who was still at her side. Her gaze rose up to meet his eyes, and she allowed herself to drink in their light. She reminded herself that she was content, while Wyatt needed adventure to feel alive. He needed a woman like him. A woman like Anne Elliot, who would sail the open seas to be with Captain Wentworth. Abby, on the other hand, was out of sorts if she had to grocery shop on a different night from her usual one. Besides, her mother would take to the idea of her dating the way a cat takes to being tossed into a swimming pool.
Wyatt lifted her hand and held it in his for a moment. “We’re friends, right?” He gave her his trademark sideways grin that should be registered as a lethal weapon. “Friends spend time getting to know one another. It’s just coffee, Abby. ”
She shrugged. “I guess.” Coffee seemed innocent enough. He wanted to talk about a book. She was a librarian. It made perfect sense. She just hoped she could keep her heart from getting involved—because men like Wyatt Tanner didn’t stay with their feet on the ground for long, and they didn’t seem to realize the effect they had on others. “I should get going,” she said and turned away from his outstretched hand to gather her things.
Wyatt felt the loss of Abby’s hand immediately as his grasp emptied. Her small hand, with its slender fingers . . . her nails always trimmed short and painted with a natural pink color . . . it felt right inside his, like it belonged there. If only he could find a way to tell her so.
“Maybe Monday morning, before work. Mountain Perks. Is seven too early for you?”
“Seven is fine,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Be ready to discuss Austen.”
She smiled briefly, and he’d have given blood to know what she was thinking. Rather than risk giving her another chance to back out, he made a hasty exit with a smile he felt to his feet. Abby Gray is the perfect woman. With caramel-colored hair, which she always wore up in a studious bun, and deep, soulful brown eyes that hypnotized him. He’d spent the better part of a year trying to get to know her better. Trying to do the thing that he’d planned so long ago.
Casey, one of the other librarians, invariably placed herself between Abby and him, so he’d decided to return his books when he knew only Abby would be on duty and he’d have her to himself. She exuded a sense of warmth that made him want her soft nature—she was like a roaring fire in the fireplace. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew. There was something different about Abby Gray that made him feel as if he’d known her their entire lives. She had a petite, athletic frame, and he wondered what she did to stay in shape. She obviously hid her adventurous side underneath an array of cardigans, which only made him want to uncover that side of her more.
He walked down the street and shook his head. As he stared over his shoulder, he watched her emerge from the library and heard her jangle the keys.
Be ready to discuss Austen. Seriously? Did he really just tell a librarian to be ready to discuss Jane Austen? As if he were some kind of literary hero? He could barely string two words together and sound coherent. At least when he was near Abby. He didn’t know what touched him so about her, but when he was beside her, he smiled from within.
Hopefully, Abby didn’t think he was a blooming idiot. He hadn’t meant to be so pushy, but some part of him wanted to get her out of the house more often and learn what went on behind those gorgeous, mysterious eyes. He’d first seen her in church, but she was always flanked by her mother and seemed so off-limits there. Running into her at the library seemed like fate.
She hiked her book bag over her shoulder, and he watched her hips sway gently as she walked in the other direction. She turned and smiled at him with a wave.
He loved the way she laughed, the way she hung back when the other ladies tried to speak to him. All he’d wanted to do was get to her and pull her out of her quiet reverie, but then someone would ask about his outdoor hobbies and he’d see her visibly flinch at the idea of helicopter skiing in Canada or snowboarding atop Sugarcreek Mountain.
“Someone looks smitten.” Ellie Draper stood outside her fudge shop, Sweet Surrender.
Wyatt sniffed the sugary scent of her warm concoctions. “You’re just trying to sell me some dark chocolate.”
“Maybe.” She winked. “Abby likes the peanut butter fudge.”
“Does she now?”
Ellie shrugged her rounded shoulders. “You know where to find me.” With a jingling of bells she disappeared into her sweet shop.
Abby was out of sight now. Most likely she found his love of extreme sports folly. Nothing more than a death wish. He wanted her to know the truth, that computer consulting was only a means to an end. He wanted to create programs that showed athletes how to move their bodies for optimal performance. He didn’t want to be known just as the code monkey of Smitten.
Today he had hope. On Monday morning Abby would meet him for coffee and he would get to ask about her, away from the prying eyes of library patrons and nosy librarians. Now he was the one who was half agony, half hope.