For some reason, I found myself holding my breath.
“You know what? That would be great,” he said with a warm grin. “Got a pen?”
Relieved, I pushed a Knockemout Public Library notepad across the desk to him and held out a pen. “Here you go.” Our fingers brushed when he took it, and he held my gaze for a beat too long.
Then he smiled again and bent to scrawl a number on the pad. “Name’s Flint,” he said, tapping the pen over his name for emphasis. His eyes skimmed over my name tag. “Naomi.”
I did not like the way he said my name as if he knew me, as if he were already intimately familiar with me.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone to help,” I croaked.
He nodded. “Great. Sooner the better.” Flint picked up the laptop and gave me a once-over. He tossed me a salute. “Later, Naomi.”
“Good-bye.”
I watched him stroll to the stairs. It took me an entire minute to figure out what was bothering me. It was his hands. Specifically, his left hand, which hadn’t sported a wedding ring.
I was just being paranoid. Maybe it was a sign that I was getting better at this guardian thing. I brushed the encounter aside and headed into my tiny office to add Local IT Support to the running list of questions I had for Sloane.
The woman might have been pixie-sized, but she certainly had big ideas about how to expand the library’s services to the community. It was both exciting and interesting to be part of something that was so focused on helping people.
A shadow in my doorway caught my eye.
I jumped and slapped a hand to my chest. “Crap on a cracker, Knox. You scared the hell out of me!”
He leaned against the doorjamb and quirked an eyebrow. “Baby, I don’t wanna tell you how to do your job or anything, but aren’t you supposed to not yell in a library?”
THIRTY-TWO
LUNCH AND A WARNING
Knox
I had things to do. Businesses to run. Employees to yell at. But I wasn’t thinking about all that. I was thinking about her.
And here I was in the library, ignoring everything else because I woke up thinking about her and wanted to see her.
I’d spent a lot of time thinking about Naomi Witt since she blew into town. I was surprised that it only got worse the more time I spent with her.
She looked entirely too pretty today, standing there behind her desk, lost in some mental to do list, wearing a curve-hugging sweater in a ridiculously female pink.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her surprise turning to happiness. She closed the distance between us, stopping just shy of touching me. I liked how she was always leaning toward me, into me. Like her body wanted to be as close to mine as possible at all times. It didn’t feel clingy like I’d always thought it would. It felt…not terrible.
“Thought I’d take you to lunch.”
“Really?” She looked thrilled at the invitation, and I decided I didn’t mind that either. Having a woman like Naomi look at me like I was the hero of her day felt damn good.
“No, Daisy. I just showed up here to mess with you. Yes, really.”
“Well, I am hungry.” Those plush lips painted a deep pink curved in an invitation I wasn’t going to ignore.
I was hungry for something other than food. “Good. Let’s go. How long’s your break?”
“I get an hour.”
Thank fucking God.
A minute later, we were walking out of the library and into the September sun. I steered her toward my pickup with a hand on her lower back.
“So what fine dining establishment will we be patronizing today?” she asked when I slid behind the wheel.
I reached into the back seat and dropped a paper bag in her lap. She opened it and peered inside.
“It’s peanut butter and jelly,” I explained.
“You made me a sandwich.”
“There’s chips in there too,” I said defensively. “And that tea you like.”
“Okay. I’m trying not to be charmed by the fact that you packed me a picnic lunch.”
“It’s not a picnic,” I said, turning the key.
“Where are we going to eat our not picnic lunch?”
“Third Base, if you’re up for it.”
She squeezed her knees together and squirmed a little in her seat. Her lower lip snagged between her teeth. “What about the horn?” she asked.
“I brought a blanket.”
“A blanket and a packed lunch. Definitely not a picnic,” she teased.
She wouldn’t be so smug when I had my hand down those tight little pants she was wearing. “We could just go back and eat in the break room at the library,” I threatened.