“You too.” I reluctantly opened the door and stepped out, blowing him one last kiss before turning towards the library.
That’s when I saw her.
Mrs. Wilson stood at the top of the library steps, her silvery hair pulled back in its usual immaculate bun, her expression unreadable behind her tortoiseshell glasses. She was watching us—watching me—with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
How long had she been standing there? How much did she see?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Istraightened my shoulders and walked up the steps, attempting to project professional composure despite knowing my lips were probably swollen from Rion’s kisses.
“Good morning, Mrs. Wilson,” I said, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to guilty teenager. “Welcome back. How was Florida?”
“Humid.” Her gaze flicked past me to Rion’s truck, which was just pulling away from the curb. “Friend of yours?”
I swallowed. “Yes. He, um, gave me a ride this morning.”
She nodded slowly. “I see. Quite the gentleman, isn’t he? Opening the door for you.”
Had Rion done that? I hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in the moment. “Yes, he is.”
She held the door open, gesturing for me to enter ahead of her. The cool air of the library washed over me, familiar and comforting. Despite my nervousness, I felt a surge of affection for this space—my sanctuary for so many years.
“I must say,” Mrs. Wilson said as we walked through the main reading room, “the mythological display turned out beautifully. Very creative use of space.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you. We had some ladder issues, but we managed to work around them.”
“So I heard from Brenda.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “She mentioned you had some… assistance.”
How much had Brenda told her? “Yes, a friend helped with some repairs.”
Mrs. Wilson stopped at the circulation desk, setting down her purse with a precise movement. “The same friend who dropped you off this morning?”
I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck. “He’s good with his hands.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to crawl under the desk. Mrs. Wilson’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline.
“I meant with building things,” I amended hastily. “He fixed the ladder. And then helped with the display.”
“Hmm.” She began sorting through the mail that had accumulated on her desk, her expression giving nothing away. “Well, the display is certainly eye-catching. Very… imposing.”
There was something about the way she said it that made me uneasy. Did she know what Rion was? Had she somehow recognized him as a minotaur from that brief glimpse?
“Thank you,” I said, for lack of anything better. “We tried to make it educational while still being visually interesting.”
She nodded, pulling out a particular piece of mail and examining it. “You’ve done an excellent job, Clara. Very… illuminating.”
Again, that strange emphasis. I shifted uncomfortably. “Is everything okay, Mrs. Wilson?”
She looked up, her expression clearing into something more normal. “Of course, dear. Just a bit jet-lagged, I suppose. Florida is two time zones away, you know.”
“Right.” I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I wasn’t about to press the issue. “Would you like me to catch you up on what you’ve missed?”
“In a bit,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’d like to take a look at the display first, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I gestured towards the mythology section. “It’s all set up and labeled.”
She nodded, then paused. “Clara, before I forget—did we receive that new shipment of reference books? The ones on local history?”
