By two o’clock the following day, when Ava showed up to take over until closing time, Paige was exhausted. She even thought about going home and taking a nap, which was something she rarely did, but that would only make it harder to sleep at bedtime, and that four-thirty alarm wasn’t very forgiving.
Instead, she stopped by her trailer and grabbed her library tote bag, since she’d finished the last book three days before and, tired or not, she was getting itchy for more books. The weather was nice—not too hot and no humidity—so she walked to the library, exchanging waves with others as she went.
She still found it exhilarating, the way the town’s people made her feel as if she was one of their own. They called to her by name and asked her how business was going, and she’d ask after their kids or an aging parent. It was what she’d been looking for her entire life—that sense of belonging—and she’d finally found it in Whitford.
Dragged around from place to place growing up, Paige had always been the new kid in school. There had always been a new man of the house, some who became stepfathers and more who didn’t. And she’d done it a few times herself. More than once, she’d given up who she wanted to be in order to be what a man wanted her to be.
Her car breaking down in Whitford had changed that. Changed her. It was an opportunity to start a life in a town that had welcomed a stranded stranger with open arms and, to make sure she kept that life on track, she was abstaining from men. When she was sure she was who she wanted to be and had her life the way she wanted it, she’d think about letting a man share it. For now, she wasn’t going to risk falling back into behavioral patterns she’d learned from her mother. No men.
The library was quiet when Paige stepped inside, but she knew she didn’t have long before school let out and kids started showing up, looking for a safe place to kill some time, doing homework or reading before their parents got home from work.
Hailey Genest, of gouged-leather-seats fame, was behind the circulation desk, where she always was, from ten in the morning until five o’clock Monday through Thursday, until eight o’clock on Fridays, and three hours every other Saturday afternoon. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, with her blond hair in a ponytail, looking like anything but a librarian.
Fran Benoit, with her thick gray hair pulled back in a braid, was checking out a stack of books, and she grinned when she saw Paige. “You’re too late. I grabbed all the ones with the good sex in them.”
“Guess I’ll have to settle for the ones with the good murders.” Paige wasn’t sure she could handle having Mitch Kowalski and sexy books in her life at the same time.
“Not having the first could lead to the second, you know,” Hailey said, giving Paige a pointed look. “Gotta release the tension or it builds up and then—wham—somebody’s calling nine-one-one.”
All three of them laughed while Paige unloaded her tote, lining the books up on the counter to be checked in. Hailey didn’t tend to be very subtle in her worry about Paige’s lack of a sex life. Or maybe not so much worry, as a determination to fix what she perceived as broken.
“Speaking of sex,” Fran said, “how did Mitch like your meatloaf?”
Paige shook her head. “How does speaking of sex lead to meatloaf?”
Fran snorted. “Speaking of sex leads to Mitch Kowalski.”
“That it does,” Hailey agreed, smiling that silly, nostalgic smile that was practically a universal female reaction to the man’s name being said out loud.
“I’m sure he liked the meatloaf just fine or he wouldn’t have brought Josh in for breakfast yesterday morning.”
Hailey shook her head. “Nobody cares about the meatloaf, Paige. Mitch is in town for six weeks and you could do with a little less tension. Don’t want you killing anybody.”
“So what you’re saying is that I have to have sex with Mitch to save lives?”
“Absolutely.”
Fran nodded. “Yes.”
Paige couldn’t believe either woman kept a straight face. “Nice try. Not interested.”
And she said that with a straight face, which was even harder to believe. Of course she was interested in having sex with the man. Didn’t change the fact it wasn’t going to happen.
“Besides,” she said, “nothing says he’s interested in me, either.”
Fran scooped her books off the desk and gave her a look. “Honey, if you got an innie and not an outtie between your legs, he’s interested.”
They all laughed again, until a gruff, exaggerated throat-clearing sounded from the reference section, and Hailey shushed them. “You guys are going to get me fired.”
“They can’t fire you,” Fran said. “You’re the only person in town who knows the Dewey Decimal System.”
After Fran said goodbye and despite her gloating, Paige found a nice selection of sexy romances left on the shelves. She took a couple, along with a few cozy mysteries, a political thriller and a horror that looked like it would keep her up at night. Terror was probably a healthier reason to lie awake than thinking about sex with Mitch.