Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
At some point, the front door of the library closes with a loud bang, and a new silence settles over the stacks. A whisper of cold air brushes the back of my neck, but I don’t pay attention. It must be a draft from the front door.
I’m almost finished with another volume when I inhale more cologne.
Finley is on the other side of the narrow aisle, reshelving some books. He scans each shelf slowly, carefully, his eyes landing on every spine as he goes past.
He’s still there when I get to the last page in the volume and close it as quietly as I can.
And then…
I have to go over there.
Because he’s standing at the shelf where this book goes.
Finley glances at me as I approach, his dark eyes flickering up and down my body. Heat floods my body and there’s a little flip in the pit of my stomach. He gives me a terse, professional nod.
I nod back at him, ignoring the blush rising in my cheeks.
The gap where my book belongs is right in front of him.
I swallow thickly, suddenly unable to function normally. “Excuse me,” I murmur, and step closer. It’s a thick book, so it’s heavy, and I need both hands to lift it back to its place.
He’s so close.
There are only inches between the books in his hands and my back. Only inches between the heat of his body and mine. He’s holding his breath.
I lift the book, and then his hand is over mine, helping me push it onto the shelf.
“Thank you,” I say, and take a quick step to the side. We’re still so close in the aisle. “I was also looking for…”
My face is so hot that it’s hard to see the call numbers on the spines of the books. I have to pull out my notebook to double-check it, and—
It’s on the shelf right in front of Finley. A little farther down than the book I just put back.
“I was looking for…” I point. “It’s that red one, if you could…”
He grabs the book off the shelf and passes it to me. Our fingers brush together on the old leather, and I feel the heat of that touch all up my arm. A quiet gasp comes from somewhere nearby, like an echo. Did I do that? Or was it someone else?
Thump, thump, thump, my heart pounds.
Finley hasn’t broken contact. I don’t pull my hand away. He just stops and waits, and I stop, too, finally managing to look up into his dark eyes.
They’re very dark. The red in his cheeks is pretty dark, too. I’m almost transfixed by it. Like he’s the one who’s been calling to me. He’s the one I should’ve been researching. He’s the one I should be studying.
I am studying him. I can’t tear my eyes away. I start to go up on tiptoe, drawn in by the electric tension between us, and he takes a short breath, tipping his head down—
The front door of the library opens, letting in another gust of wind. “Finley?” a voice calls. “Oh, I’m freezing to death. Finley, where are you? I’m here about that hold I placed. It’s here, isn’t it?”
Clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders, Finley pulls away, turning toward the footsteps coming toward the back of the library.
“There are other volumes in the back,” he says quickly and quietly before he leaves. “They’re only available by appointment.”
“Oh?” I say breathlessly. “When could—”
“Tomorrow night, once the library’s closed.”
“Yes,” I agree without taking a breath. Thump, thump, thump, my heart races.
He gives me one more nod, and then he’s gone. Leaving me in more suspense than I’ve been in since I first came back home to that shop.
Chapter Two
Hazel
Not a darn thing productive gets done for the rest of the evening. My research is stagnant as my thoughts are concerned with something else. Or rather, someone else.
How am I supposed to think when I just had an encounter like that with Finley? He’s never stood close enough to touch before. He’s never come to the back of the library by the local history section when I’m back there.
Our fingers have never touched before.
The touch still lingers.
And the way he looked at me, up and down, his eyes going dark… It was just the two of us. The tension cracked, and I swear there was something there. He must feel what I feel. I know it to be so.
The way he held his breath, like he wanted to touch me but couldn’t bring himself to…
I leave the library well before closing and skirt the outside of the stacks. If I see him again, I’ll say something awkward, and I just don’t want the spell to break. It was too real. Too obvious.
It occurs to me on the walk home that a spell might be exactly what’s needed. My lips twitch up with hope, a spell will do nicely.