The question is perfect since help is exactly what I need. So perfect, in fact, that—
“I need a hundred thousand dollars.” I blurt out my request before I can stop myself, then hide my face behind my hands once my brain registers what I’ve done. So much for that pitch I’d meticulously prepared.
3
Warm fingers circle my wrists and gently tug downward. I think about resisting for half a second, but continuing to attempt to hide my mortification isn’t going to do any good whatsoever. My fingers slide down my face, and once my eyes are uncovered, I can see Julien’s probing blue gaze. His direct eye contact is searching, most likely trying to figure out where my outburst for a hundred grand had come from. From the roundness of his eyes and the energy buzzing off him, it seems he’s jumped straight to catastrophizing. A person from his past suddenly bursts back on the scene in need of a large sum of money.
Wrong genre, my friend.
“There isn’t some sort of ransom situation going on,” I say to the mountain of concern staring back at me. What shows has he been watching or books has he been reading to jump to that conclusion first? Probably some sort of Jack Reacher/Lee Child thriller. Part of me wants to laugh at the rate of escalation of his inferences, and the other part is a little touched that he seems so worried that something bad might be happening to me.
“Neither my parents nor I are in any sort of danger.” See? If I’d just gone with my prepared speech, we could have sparedeveryone this melodrama. Too bad I can’t ever seem to do anything the easy way.
He relaxes his grip on my wrists, his fingers sliding along the tender underside and flipping a switch on the pulse point there as he releases his hold. My breath hitches as he sits back in the chair, his brows furrowing as he continues to stare at me.
“How did you just do that?” He’s looking at me like he’s trying to figure out a trigonometry problem.
“Do what?”
“Know what I was thinking.”
I shrug and avert my gaze. What can I say? That my voracious reading has made me more receptive and observant of context clues among people in real life? True, but my observations have never led to mind reading before. “I guess you just have an expressive face.”
He doesn’t look like he agrees, but he doesn’t argue either.
“So, one hundred thousand dollars and the money isn’t needed to save anyone in danger,” he finally says, giving me the opening to explain why I’m coming to him for money the way I should have to begin with.
I tell him about the storm that blew through and the roof needing to be replaced and the grants that we didn’t get and the reallocation of funds that wipes out the children’s programs and my wages.
“That’s why I’m here. Little Creek Library is in desperate need of the generosity King Publishing annually bestows through tax-deductible donations. Without your support, the programs that have served so many of the community’s children are going to be canceled.”
He considers me, deep in thought, his index finger idly running over the silver stubble along his chin. “That’s what you grew up to become? A children’s librarian?”
Technically, no. I never went to college, never got a degree. We didn’t have the money, and I didn’t feel like being in debtfor the rest of my life. Besides, I got the job at the library and the Andersons offered me rent-free housing, so while I knew I’d never be rich, I was settled. But he doesn’t need all those details. “Yep.”
He continues to run his finger thoughtlessly across his jaw. “So you know a lot about children’s literature?”
“Yes...” I draw out slowly.
I don’t require any sort of mind-reading abilities to see a plan forming behind the brightness of his blue eyes. Things are clicking into place. Problems being solved. I’m not sure what sort of problems Julien has or how I fit into them, but I have a sneaking suspicion I’m about to find out.
His lips curl the tiniest bit at the corners, and I’m reminded yet again of his business acumen because I think I’m seeing what he looks like when he’s about to seal a deal after the deck was stacked against him.
I swallow back the flash flood of saliva my mouth just produced. There’s always a special place in a girl’s heart for her first crush, but that’s no reason to revert to acting like that girl again. Severe businessmen in stuffy suits aren’t even my type, which is how I know this reaction I’m having to seeing Julien again is based on nostalgia. I’m much more into the glasses-wearing intellectual vibe.
I clear my throat. “About the donation ...?”
His gaze refocuses, pinning on me. I resist the urge to squirm in my chair, and I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the thought, but I think I would’ve rather faced dream-shattering John King than this grown-up version of Julien. At least with Senior, I know what I’m up against.
“Unfortunately, all of King Publishing’s donations are set for the year.” Despite theunfortunately, he doesn’t sound sorry of that fact in the slightest.
My body deflates. “Oh.”
There goes plan A. I still don’t think the usual fundraisingactivities in Little Creek will raise enough money, especially not in the short amount of time Ryan gave me. I suppose I could start cold-calling other companies. Some big corporation has to be in need of a tax write-off.
“However ...” Julien continues.
I try not to let the balloon of hope inflate too much in my chest, buthoweveris good.Howeveris something.
