That obliviousness always made her feel just a tiny better during their shifts together.
“Maybe you could—” Cowan started to say.
“Sometimes he wears dark-rimmed glasses, and they suit him way too well. It’s like he’s a bookish spy or a really sexy professor, which can be very distracting.” She hesitated. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
Irene blew out a loud breath. “Can you tell us something else about him? Something that doesn’t involve how hot he is?”
Oh. She supposed she had kind of rambled about his looks for a bit too long. Probably because she didn’t have much practice with lying.
“He’s very intelligent.” Maybe the smartest man she’d ever met, but she would keep that little tidbit to herself. “He started at the library six months before I was hired, so he’s been here a year. He has a Ph.D. in American history and knows a ton about different time periods.”
“That’s plenty of?—”
Callie barely heard Cowan. “When he gets a tricky question on the desk, he’ll do everything he can to answer it as thoroughly and accurately as possible, no matter how long it takes. He’s dogged, he’s curious, and he truly wants to help people.”
All true. Cowan and Irene simply didn’t need to know how all that endless patience and curiosity impacted Callie. How by the time she’d started working at the library, the researchers and interpreters with more interesting and complex questions had already learned to go to him for answers when he was on the desk. How she got stuck with all the basic factual and circulation questions, and her own knowledge of history and the library remained untapped. How she had to deal singlehandedly with any lines at the desk, because he would spend almost his entire shift on one or two people and fail to offer assistance when she was in the weeds. How she was continually forced to calm patrons who were frustrated at the wait for help. How she had to hurry through any interesting questions she did receive, because of that line and those pissed-off people in it.
Cowan and Irene didn’t need to know that working with Thomas all the time had stopped Callie from forming closer ties with patrons and other colleagues and left her feeling increasingly isolated.
So instead, she tried to remember more of the good stuff. The reasons she used to rush to work half an hour early so she and Thomas could hang out before her shift started.
“He’s kind. Easy to talk to.” Somehow, amidst her burgeoning anger and worry, she’d forgotten that. “Not particularly familiar with pop culture but interested in everything. And he has this wry sense of humor with absolutely no meanness to it. No mockery whatsoever.”
At first, she’d chatted with him all the time, and he’d always listen intently to whatever she wanted to say. Then he’d ask her questions or offer up his own well-considered opinions with that quiet confidence she so envied, and they’d talk for hours in the parking lot after work. Those chats hadn’t been mere water cooler talks or gossip sessions, but the sorts of conversations she’d always hoped to have with her boyf?—
Nope. Not ambling down that particular mental road.
It didn’t matter how good a conversationalist he was. As her aggravation with him had grown, she’d stopped talking to him unless work required it. Because having all his careful attention, all his decency and kindness, directed her way somehow felt even worse than if he’d been a dick.
If he’d been a dick, her anger wouldn’t feel so petty. If he’d been a dick, she might have mustered the courage to complain, either to him or to a supervisor. But he was a good man. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, she didn’t want to get him in trouble, and she didn’t want to borrow conflict or seem high-maintenance at a place where she’d only worked for six months.
Just the thought of confronting him made her itch.
So she was stuck. Frustrated and lonely and sad, but silent.
Irene interrupted her thoughts. “I think we’re good here.”
“What…” Callie swallowed, too nervous to hope. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve convinced me. You’re into this dude, no question about it. We can make this work.”
Wow. She was an excellent liar. Who knew?
“Have him fill out the online application tonight. We’ll do the interview and take some pictures when you arrive at the first island.” Cowan sounded distracted, and Callie could hear a tapping sound, as if he were taking notes. “I’ll update the tickets and reservations and send you all the confirmation messages as soon as I can.”
Her eyes were swimming again, and she wiped them against the sleeve of her blouse.
She’d done it. Oh, God, she’d done it.
Next week, she’d be digging her toes into white sand and splashing in the surf, allowing the water to erode all her worries as she luxuriated in the best trip of her life.
That is, if she could convince Thomas to abandon his previous vacation plans, lie on cable television, and spend an entire week in close proximity with a coworker who hadn’t talked to him for several months.
Oh, God, she hadn’t done it. Not really. Not yet.
She didn’t need to blink back happy tears anymore. Her eyes were as dry and gritty as that imaginary white sand. “Got it. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“One last thing.” Cowan was silent for a moment. “I’m choosing to believe that you and Thomas McKinney are a couple, because I like you. And, to be frank, because cancelling your trip would mess up the entire Island Match schedule for the rest of the season. But there will be cameras on you almost constantly for days. If you’re lying…”
