her eyes. “I do the same thing, but with thrillers. Perks of the job.”
“Thanks for everything, Sandra. Not just for the job but also for teaching me to crochet last winter. And that tip on hard-boiling eggs. Game changer right there.”
“It’s one of my best-kept secrets.” The smile fades from her face as I hoist my bag onto my shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Come see me. And call me if you need anything.”
With a final smile and a little nod, I head toward the front. Nathaniel, a little ginger-headed boy, sits on a tiny stool. He looks up from a book and waves. I raise my hand before looking away.
My heart twists in my chest as I push open the heavy doors. I rustle through my bag for my keys, and the cool air hits my face as I step outside.
“Hey.”
I look up when I hear a familiar voice.
Trevor’s truck idles up behind me, the engine purring as he puts it in park. One arm hangs out the window, his fingertips strumming against the black paint.
My heartbeat ramps up, purring right along with Trevor’s truck’s engine. I take in the glimmer of mischief in his eyes and drop my keys on the pavement.
“Before you say a word, I was just driving through town and saw the library,” he says.
“That makes total sense,” I say, picking up my key ring. My stomach somersaults at the smirk he throws my way. “You just drove by and found the library so interesting you pulled in. Got it. What book are you looking to check out? I have an in if you want to request something specific.”
He bites his lip, a dimple settling into his left cheek. “I was thinking one on the best bed-and-breakfasts in the area might be helpful.”
“Are you staying in town?”
“Yes. Meredith’s changes are pretty overwhelming, and there are a lot of them. Dad and Meredith are hell-bent on moving in right after he retires in a couple of weeks, so I need to make sure there are no hiccups.”
“Look at you, being all logical. I have to say, I had you pegged as someone more . . .”
I tap my chin, looking at him like I’m unsure how to describe my thoughts. The word I want is on the tip of my tongue. But the longer I look at the muscles that stretch from his shoulders up the sides of his neck and the way the skin bunches at the corners of his eyes when he’s ready to laugh, the word seems to vanish into thin air.
“Someone what?” he prods.
“Someone more impulsive,” I say, throwing out the first word that comes to me.
His eyes light up. “I think you’re projecting. If I remember the details correctly, and trust me when I say not one slipped by me, you were the one bent over a bar this morning for a pastry.”
I turn away as he laughs. My cheeks are on fire—not because of his words, but from the look on his face. Like he does remember what I looked like and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind it.
“Guess I was right,” I say, hitting the unlock button. My trinkets jingle inside my bag as I toss it in the back seat. “You aren’t a gentleman.”
When I turn around to face him again, the levity is gone. He’s watching me with a somberness that roots me in place. “Can I ask how today went? Or is that something people who just met this morning don’t ask?”
“Are you trying to be courteous now?”
He shrugs. “Not really. I just . . . wondered.”
I lean against my car and tug my sweater around me. “Budget cuts made them get rid of all expendable items and positions, and I, unfortunately, am expendable.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“It’s not terrible if it’s true.” Sandra’s comment about the flower shop flutters through my mind, carrying a bubble of excitement with it. “I like to think that when one door closes, another opens. I just have to find the door, I guess.”
“Look at you, being all logical,” he teases, throwing my words back at me.
“I don’t know what else to do. This is an opportunity to do something else. That’s how I have to look at it, and not like it’s a strain on my doughnut budget.”
He grins. “God forbid something hurts your doughnut affair.”
“Right?”
He shifts in his seat, his fingers rewrapping around the steering wheel. “How about we have an early dinner and discuss this more