“Ugh, I can’t get it,” Lucky grumbles.
Damn, I kinda wish I knew the stranger’s name.
Mystery man is handsome, but in an unassuming way.
The first few times I saw him, I thought he was okay-looking but not drop-dead gorgeous or anything.
A normal, regular-looking guy.
The large black-framed glasses kinda give him a shy or nerdy vibe, which I’ve never been particularly drawn to before. Though in the past, my taste in men has led me nowhere but directly to trouble.
Maybe a sweet guy with glasses, who smiles at my kid and visits the library, would be a nice change of pace…
Except, getting close to me would be dangerous for anyone, and sadly, it’s not worth the risk.
I drive a little farther to get to this branch of the library because it has an epic kid’s section. There are puzzles and games, computers, and other activities. I also like that I can peep around for books for myself while Lukas is listening to story time.
Some of the parents stay and supervise, but they have helpers, so overwhelmed moms and dads can take a small break and enjoy the quiet while browsing for a book they’ll never actually get to finish before the due date.
That could just be me.
Sometimes there are slow times at work between appointments. On those days, I can sit in the break room and binge read until I get a walk-in or my next scheduled appointment comes in. Only, I’d much rather be fully booked during my shift. If I’m not with a client, I’m not earning money. That means I’m wasting time that I could be spending with Lucky.
Leaning against one of the end caps of the shelves, I split my attention between the blurb of the book I grabbed and watching Lukas. He bounces on his knees, never truly staying still, but he follows along with rapt fascination.
He’s a busy kid.
I think that’s probably all toddlers and preschoolers, though. The world is still new and exciting, and they have limitless energy.
Well, until they get overtired.
Once they reach that level of exhaustion, they crashhard.
“That’s a good one,” mystery man says, stepping around from behind me and coming to a stop at my side. “Do you like thrillers?”
“Mysteries and thrillers are my favorite when I don’t have the brain space to decipher the politics and extensive world-building of fantasy.” I chuckle softly. “Also, I get so wrapped up in getting answers that I tend to finish them, which is rare these days.”
“I can only imagine how difficult it is to find time to read with a child,” he says, keeping his voice low.
He must have dropped his jacket at a table, and he also pulled the hood on his sweatshirt down. His light brown hair is messy, sticking up in a million directions. Somehow it fits his face—and his energy.
“Oh, I read at least two books a night.” I smile, nodding to the children’s area. “He’s bossy, and one story is never enough.”
“Ah, yes, my mother used to read to my brothers and me when we were little.” He laughs. “Other times, she would create elaborate stories with us as the main characters. We even got animal sidekicks to help us on our quest to rescue the princess. Those are some of my fondest memories of her.” He bumps his shoulder against mine and turns into me, holding out his hand. “Cormac.”
I grin, moving the book to my forearm to offer my hand. “Charlotte.”
He has a firm grip, but not obnoxiously so. Some men squeeze almost to the point of pain. Who knows why, maybe they want to prove they’ve got a strong handshake or to assert dominance.
My nostrils flare, breathing in his scent. I’m not sure exactly what that smell is, but it’s earthy with hints of fresh rain.
He smells like petrichor.
Damn.
That’s one of my favorite scents.
When I was a kid, I used to sit out on the front porch and enjoy the smell after it rained. It was especially potent in the rural area where we lived in Florida. I read somewhere that not everyone can detect petrichor, and if that’s true, it sucks. They’re really missing out.
