She backed out of her spot and pulled onto the main road through town. I pretty much knew her routine by heart. Usually, she headed straight home, but sometimes she stopped along the way. Looked like today was one of those days. She pulled into the parking lot at the library and carried a tote bag full of books inside. Someday we’d walk through those doors together, and I’d be the one hauling her heavy books. Hopefully, someday sooner rather than later.
I waited for about ten minutes before I followed her in. My girl loved to bury her nose in a book and stopped by the library at least once a week to trade one bag of books for another.
“Hey, Crank.” Addy, the librarian, looked up and gave me a smile.
“Hi.” I scanned the interior, looking for Poppy. She was only about five foot two, so I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t see her. Probably poring over the new fiction releases in between the shelves.
“Can I help you find something?” Addy asked.
I shook my head. “I’m just looking around.”
She stood and put her hands on her hips. “How is it that you come in here about once a week to look around, but I’ve never seen you check out a single book?”
“Um, I’m pretty picky when it comes to reading.”
“Do you even own a library card?” She leaned down and typed something on the keyboard in front of her. “You don’t, do you?”
I didn’t have time to chitchat with my MC brother’s gal about library cards. Not when the only reason I even entered the building was to check on Poppy.
“I’ll just have a look around. If I find something I want to take home, I’ll sign up for a card on my way out.” I didn’t wait for her to reply, just headed toward the new fiction section.
Passing through the shelves, I wondered what kind of books Poppy would take home today. She usually picked out quite a few novels, but I’d seen her reading books on knitting and gardening as well. She even had a few small, raised gardening beds next to the cabin she’d been renting. It just about killed me to watch her trying to put them together. She might be talented in a lot of ways, but using a drill wasn’t one of them. I’d gone over late one night at the start of summer and finished them for her. Growing season was winding down, but she’d had a bumper crop of tomatoes this year.
I caught a glimpse of red hair on the next row over. She had her back to me, and I crouched down to sneak a peek at her between the books on the shelf in front of me. Her slim fingers skimmed across the spines until she found something she was interested in. She was in the canning section. Probably wanted to figure out what to do with all the produce she’d grown.
While I waited to see which book she’d pick out, a memory washed over me. My mom and grandma stood in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. The walls were wallpapered with bright chickens and roosters with curtains the color of the yellow rosesin my grandma’s front flowerbed hanging in the window. The two women stood in front of the stove. I couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and apples as they made batch after batch of my grandma’s special applesauce. I licked my lips, remembering the sweet taste of apples and sugar.
Distracted, I didn’t react quickly enough when Poppy turned around. I ducked down and pretended to adjust the laces on my black leather motorcycle boots as her footsteps faded down the aisle. Dammit, that was close.
“Crank! I thought that was you.” There was no mistaking the musical sound of her voice coming from above me.
I looked up, trailing my gaze from her low-top pink sneakers, up her curvy calves, to finally meet her gaze. My cheeks heated at being caught. “Oh, hey, Poppy.”
She cradled a few books in her arms and gazed down at me with a slight smile. “What are you looking for down there?”
“Just picking up a few things. The more you read, the more knowledge you receive, right?” I reached out and grabbed the first book I could. Fuck, I sounded like a complete moron.
“I feel like I should apologize.” Her smile widened as she eyed the book in my hand.
Standing, I tamped down the urge to reach out and touch her. “You never need to apologize to me. Why would you ever think that?”
“I just never figured you for much of a reader.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “You’ll have to let me how you like that one.”
“Yeah, I will.” I lifted the book and glanced at the cover.How to Train Your Cat to Use the Toilet.Jesus Christ. My fingers tightened on the spine. What was she going to think about me now?
“What’s your cat’s name?” Poppy’s smile spread even wider.
I wasn’t willing to admit I didn’t have a cat. Hell, I was allergic to them. The last time I held one, my eyes practically swelled shut. I struggled to come up with something, anything. “Um, his name’s Eeek.”
Her nose scrunched up. She was abso-fucking-lutely adorable. “What kind of name is Eeek?”
“After Evel Knievel. I was a big fan of his when I was growing up. I couldn’t call the poor guy Evel without making him sound like a psycho kitty, and Evel Knievel is too long. So, yeah, I went with the initials, EK, but call him Eeek.” I didn’t know where the hell any of that came from, but I needed to stop talking.
Poppy eyed me like she didn’t quite believe me. “Maybe I’ll get to meet Eeek someday.”
“He’d really like that.” My heart thumped so fucking loud, I figured it would give me away.
But then Poppy tightened her grip on her books and gave me a smile that made the rest of the world fade away. “I’ll see you around, Crank.”
