Page 5 of The Librarian’s Familiar

What if he spent the rest of his life trying to figure out who he was and what he wanted, and never found it?

CHAPTER FOUR

Charlie waited in line for his morning coffee and muffin. It seemed as though everyone who worked in the middle of town stopped in to grab something before they started their office jobs. Honestly, he’d expected the town to be smaller, so had been pleasantly surprised by the fact it was more than a dozen houses perched on the edge of a lake—there were, in fact, no houses perched on the lake, though there had once been before they’d been taken out by a flood. Not only was the lake in the mountains and fed by glaciers, but it was more convenient to live in town, near the airstrip, the medical center and school.

The paranormal prison was one of the main employers. Everyone else was employed either by the government in health and education, or they ran their own businesses or worked in the local business sector. People still needed to buy groceries, and someone had to coordinate that. The same way people still needed to buy boots and coats, and children needed daycare.

And he needed his damn coffee.

He hadn’t slept well last night. It hadn’t mattered how much straightening up and order he had created around him; his magic had still been chaotic. There wasn’t really another way to describe it. He hoped that labelling and sorting books would help him calm down. If not, the next person who pissed him off was going to find their laces loosened along with the thread holding on their buttons.

His magic was always seeking things to mess up.

The line shuffled forward, and he peeked ahead to see who was serving. His heart sank the way it did every time he saw the Arctic fox behind the counter. He’d been on his very best behavior for the first four weeks he’d been in town, but by then he was buying coffees and the Arctic fox started flirting with him and he’d flirted back, and one thing had led to another.

Now buying coffee was occasionally awkward.

Or at least it was for him.

The fox didn’t care, as he still flirted, and because Charlie wasn’t an asshole, he half-heartedly kept the banter up. A friend with benefits was often handy…in more ways than one.

At least he didn’t need to say his order.

“Same as usual?” Sinclair asked with a grin.

Foxes tended to dampen witch magic, which was why most witches avoided them, and plenty of witches were terrified of having a fated mate. Plenty of shifters felt the same way. While things occasionally got weird around shifters, it didn’t stop him from messing around. Around Sinclair, his magic had been subdued, as expected, and nothing strange had happened. It was almost enough for him to go back for more.

Almost.

Because while Sinclair was cute and funny, Charlie liked to be the cute one in the relationship.

“Yes, thanks.” Charlie smiled.

“I can’t convince you to try something else?” The tip of Sinclair’s tongue poked between his teeth.

“It’s very tempting…” He considered the offerings in the cabinet, as if he wasn’t going to get the muffin of the day. That was about as random as he liked to get. He glanced up at Sinclair; it would be an easy mistake to make. And it would be a mistake because it couldn’t go anywhere. Sinclair deserved to find someone who wanted him to be the center of his world, not a temporary tent peg to pin down his magic. “But I have to decline.”

Sinclair sighed and dropped the muffin of the day into a brown paper bag and handed it over. “You are not old enough to be that boring.”

He’d been this boring since he was sixteen out of necessity, not desire. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“If you ever change your mind, maybe I can tempt you with a cookie.” He winked.

Dear God, could you be less subtle?

Not that he cared if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t need half the town knowing his business. He was quite happy being the odd witch in the library and keeping his interactions with the public professional. He was not going to make another mistake.

Someone behind him cleared his throat, and Charlie glanced over his shoulder.

Oh…now he was worth a second glance. Tall, brown hair that was due a cut, a neat beard, and ice blue eyes. He carried himself like the world wasn’t a threat.

Definitely polar bear.

Definitely more trouble than he could handle…but that didn’t stop him from looking. He couldn’t burn his fingers if he didn’t touch.

The glint went out of Sinclair’s eyes as he spoke to the bearded man. “What can I get you?”

Foxes and polar bears had a long-standing, centuries-old grudge, but neither of them could remember only that some great offence had occurred, and as a result, they tolerated each other for survival needs only. Survival didn’t need to be polite. It could be as cool and slick as fresh ice. That rivalry played out in the sporting matches, fishing competitions, and races. It didn’t seem to matter what it was, they competed, but if anyone outside of town tried to start something, they would leap to each other’s defense. It was fucking weird.