My body reacts before my brain can shut it down. Beneath my boxers, my cock stirs to life in agreement.
Shit.
I palm myself over the fabric and groan.
I really shouldn’t slip my hand under the waistband and jerk off to thoughts of what Bristol might look like under that damn skirt and blouse she was wearing today.
Refusing to give into the urge, I close my eyes and exhale slowly, forcing myself to think of anything else.
Tomorrow.
Dinner.
With Bristol. No imagination required.
I can wait.
I pull into the library lot just as Bristol does.
She’s already stepping out of her car, scarf looped once around her neck, tote bag slung over one shoulder. Morning light catches in her hair, and for a second I just sit there, watching her fumble for her keys.
This is not how I want to start my day—already too aware of her.
Shutting off my truck, I open the door and hop out with the cup carrier and a brown bag from Dockside Cafe.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” she replies, smiling, and a little breathless like she hurried even though there was no reason to.
She unlocks the building’s front door, pushes it open, and steps aside to let me in first.
The earthy-yet-somehow-sweet scent of aging pages paired with the faint hint of pine cleaner greats us both. It’s nostalgic and cozy. Reminds me of the monthly field trips we used to take in elementary school for story time and to check out books to fill our reading logs.
“Peppermint hot chocolate,” I say, lifting the carrier slightly. “And your croissant. Extra flaky. They said that part like it mattered.”
Her face softens instantly. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” I say, grinning as I hand her the drink.
She takes a sip and sighs, eyes fluttering closed for half a second like the weight of the morning has already lifted off her shoulders.
Something tightens in my chest.
The urge to drop everything—to step into her space, cup her face, and see if peppermint tastes different on her lips—hits hard, completely uninvited.
Too soon, Jennings.
I set my supplies down near yesterday’s damage and shrug out of my jacket, rolling my shoulders as I go.
She lingers instead of heading behind the desk. “Do you mind if I catch up on some reading while you work?”
I glance over my shoulder at her. She’s already pulling a book from her bag, fingers sliding along the spine.
“No. Of course not,” I say. “I’d tell you to pretend I’m not even here, but the sander gets a little loud.”
“Guess it’s a good thing that the library isn’t officially open. Otherwise, I’d have to shush you,” she replies with a playful wink and then settles behind the desk while I get to work.
Once I’m finished sanding and painting the damaged wall, I step back and survey my work. The paint will take a little while to dry but so far, it looks good. I’ll probably have to come back later today or tomorrow for a second coat, though.
