Perhaps Luke was similar. He had a good job, and so far, there had been no talk of partying.
A quick chuckle escaped. Listen to me—apparently, mid-twenties equated frat boy in my mind.
An image of a man I rarely thought about floated through my mind.
Corbin Battle.
My jaw worked.
Oh, yeah. There was the reason I had that idea of men in their twenties.
That jerk had played me, led me on, then dumped me when I wanted to get serious. All because he was more interested in chasing all the tail he could than in building a solid relationship.
A bona fide womanizer, whom I’d fallen for hard.
Not all men in their twenties are just out for a quick lay, my inner self cautioned.
Chewing on my lip, I glanced out the side window for a moment. Rationally, I knew that.
But emotionally?
Maybe younger men weren’t the only ones who were immature.
I let out a low, soft grunt, not liking the hard truths his presence in my life had brought out.
They were long overdue to be dealt with, though.
See?I could hear the eyebrow raise in that one word.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself. I knew my subconscious mind was right. It was the part of the human mind always on the ball.
Lips pressed tightly together, I vowed to listen to her a little more often.
Because there was one thing for certain: I didn’t want to end up alone. Watching Claire with Ozzie, lately, had made me face that fear head-on. And if Luke was the man meant to keep me from aging by myself, I didn’t want to turn him away because of a past hurt.
“Be open-minded,” I muttered as we pulled into the library parking lot. “Just let things happen as they’re supposed to.”
Peptalk over, I turned into a space beside Luke’s truck and shut off the engine.
Climbing out, I met him in front of the vehicles, and we went inside.
“Reference is this way.” He gestured toward a desk off to the side.
“Do you know how to use a microfiche machine?” I murmured as we approached the desk. “Because I haven’t used one since grade school.”
He tossed a quick grin at me. “I’ve never used one. But that’s what the librarians are for.”
“How have you never used one? You work for a construction company. Don’t you have to… I don’t know… search databases and such?”
“Yes, but usually just property and permitting records. That’s all digital.”
We stopped in front of the desk, where a middle-aged gentleman sat. His thin, mousy brown hair was a bit mussed, and thick gray glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
He greeted us with a kind smile. “Hello. How can I help you folks?”
“We’d like to look at some of your microfiche newspapers,” Luke said.
“All right.” The man pushed away from the desk. “Have you searched the catalogue yet?”
