Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I’m in front of the library, finishing up the romance display—putting the new Hazel Valentine next to a TJ Hardman, since I would definitely recommend those two together—as Wes sets out recyclable plates.
“Should I read this one?” a masculine voice asks.
I turn toward a strapping fireman with a thick beard. He’s just strolled over to the display, and he’s pointing to the Hazel Valentine book.
“If you like banter, spice, clever plots, and happily-ever-afters,” I say with a smile.
The man holds my gaze for a beat, his gray eyes twinkling with…possibility, I think. “All of the above,” he says, then adds, “I’ll have to check it out.” He looks around the breakfast area, full of tables and serving trays, then back to me, a smile forming. “I’m Tom. I’d love to get some more recs from you. Maybe after work some time?”
Did this nice fireman just ask me out? Before I can even process my surprise, a throat clears. Out of nowhere Wes is right by my side, wrapping an arm around me.
“She has a whole display of them right here. Those are her recs.” His arm bands tighter around my waist, curling over my hip. “You don’t have to get them from her after work since she’s busy.”
Someone is staking his claim.
Tom holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man.”
“It’s all good,” Wes says, in a tone laced with don’t let that happen again.
Tom nods at me with an apologetic smile, then walks away.
I turn to Wes, arching a brow at his boyfriend behavior. Color me intrigued. “Are you marking me?”
He’s unrepentant with his “yes.”
I furrow my brow. “He was only asking for book recs.”
“And maybe he legit wanted them. But he also wanted you. And you don’t have any idea how sexy you are. How often men check you out. You have no clue.”
“And it’s your job to ward them off?” I’m not annoyed. I am curious though.
He nods. “Yes. It is. It’s that simple.”
Yeah, boyfriend behavior.
And the low pull in my belly tells me I like it.
After a squeeze of my hip, Wes returns to serving pancakes next to me as several families pass through.
Eddie’s on my other side, and when there’s a lull in the action, he nudges me. “Is something up with you and Number Sixteen? Mister Hockey has been staring at you this whole freaking morning like he wants to have you on his pancakes.”
A tingle coasts down my spine, but a kernel of worry rolls along it too. “We’re…friends,” I say, because that’s true enough.
Eddie sketches air quotes. “Yes, friends. Did you know my hubs and I were friends at one point as well?”
“Then you understand,” I say, avoiding the topic with an oh so innocent smile.
“I understand,” he says, then lets his gaze drift to Wes. “I understand everything.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say softly.
He pats my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I got you, girl.”
And I believe that about Eddie. But I also can’t help but wonder about this possessive side of Wesley. Is it going to be a problem tonight? If Wes is this obvious here, will he be able to hide it when I go to the game? Will his teammates figure us out? Will people talk? And, most of all, will that hurt him?
I better prepare thoroughly for the game. Maybe I can figure out how to interact with him so it’s not obvious I spend every night in his bedroom. I know! I’ll devise a list of do’s and don’ts.
Like, do cheer subtly and don’t maul him in the corridor post-game. Like, do say hi to everyone, and don’t flash my sports bra at Number Sixteen.
Yes, that’s a plan.
But I’m pulled from those thoughts when a family with young kids marches up to the breakfast line, and a young girl with her towhead hair in pigtails holds out a plate and says, “Pancakes, please.”
“Of course. And did you know if you give a pig a pancake…” I begin as I serve her a flapjack from my tray.
“She’ll want some syrup to go with it,” the girl says with a bright smile, finishing the next line in the popular kids’ book If You Give a Pig a Pancake.
She turns to Wesley with big expectant eyes. He looks down at her plate, and I figure he’ll give her another pancake. “You’ll give her some of your favorite maple syrup,” he says, surprising me.
He’s reciting a line in a children’s book? Who is this man?
The towhead does a little jig. “She’ll probably get all sticky!” That’s the next line.
Unable to contain her pig and pancake glee, the young blonde kid recites the next several lines in the kids’ book till her dad says, “All right, Ellie. Let’s leave the nice librarians alone.”
Nice librarians, I mouth to Wes.
“Thank you, Mister Librarian,” Ellie says to Wes, then to me, “And Miss Librarian. I read that book karaoke style.”