Page 68 of That Rush

His eyebrows rise. “She picked it?”

“I asked her to take me.”

“You asked a woman to lead you up a mountain, rearranged half your week, and agreed not to sleep with anyone else.”

“You’re missing a few details.”

“Which part?”

“You left out the mineral delivery.”

Axel laughs and finally moves to the next post. “No label, though.”

“None.”

He shakes his head. “Does Paige know your unlabeled situation already has a standing Friday appointment?”

“It has one Friday appointment.”

“And next Friday?”

I set the pliers around the wire. “Ask me next Saturday.”

We work another hour before my phone buzzes again. This time, I wait until Axel knots off the final wire and I confirm the tension is secure.

Paige: Since you’re apparently capable of patience, I need an expert opinion.

Me: On what?

Paige: Whether closing alone in the romance stacks is a workplace hazard.

My thumb stills over the screen.

Me: Are you alone now?

Paige: Just me in the romance stacks, a return cart, and shelves full of men who would already be here.

Me: What time do you close?

Paige: Seven.

I check the time. Five forty-two.

Axel follows my gaze to the phone. “You’re done for the day, aren’t you?”

I look at the repaired fence, then the last post waiting beside the truck.

“At six.”

At six thirty-two, I walk into the library carrying two coffees, and my only goal is to keep my hands to myself until Paige finishes working.

The second part becomes difficult when I find her halfway down an aisle, stretching onto her toes to slide a paperback onto the top shelf. Her navy dress usually reaches her knees. Right now, it’s several inches higher.

“You came.” She doesn’t look at me.

“You sound surprised.”

“I gave you seventy-eight minutes of notice.”