Page 102 of Checking Out the Librarian

He kept bopping until Hank dumped the rest of his water on top of Connor’s head. “Game time.”

As if a little exterior hydration was going to dent his excitement for Hank. Not a chance.

“We can double date! This will be so much fun. Jonathan likes movies too, although he sort of has a thing for old black and white stuff but most of it’s good so we can try that together, right?”

“You have the right to remain silent. You just lack the capacity.” Hank lifted the water bottle to his mouth and then glared into its empty depths.

“Hey! I’ve seen the ogre movie enough times with you and Emma to know that he’s just a big cinnamon roll.” He poked Hank in the approximate location of his belly button. “And you may fart like the guy, but you’re my guy and you can’t insult me. I won’t be insulted.”

That glare moved directly from the water bottle to Connor, but there was absolutely no heat behind it. Possibly a twinkle and a smirk and possibly, just possibly, a lurking smile. Oh, yeah, Hank was getting it good. And so, for that matter, was Emma. Nice.

“But seriously, barbecue? I can grill.”

“Ribs?” Hank never wasted words.

“Big old messy ones so you can gnaw on the bones.”

Hank dropped a log-sized arm across his shoulders. “Let me ask Emma but pretty sure we’re a yes.”

He silently mouthed let me ask Emma right back at Hank.

And ran.

22

A NEW BESTIE

A whole Friday off for the holiday had been wonderful, but this morning Jonathan needed the fresh air in the library courtyard to clear his head, so he’d volunteered to refresh the outside display case with the “Back to the Future” theme.

Last night they’d played yard games with Hank and Emma after eating ribs that had caused Jonathan to reconsider his hierarchy of Connor’s culinary achievements. Slow-cooked meat might possibly rank alongside baked goods.

The croquet had quickly become violent, and Emma had warned Jonathan to stay at least ten feet away from Hank and Connor when they swung a mallet.

He and Emma had posed all over the yard, Emma in a red and white floral sundress and Jonathan in white linen pants and a loosely woven pale blue shirt unbuttoned well past his clavicle, but their men had been too busy sending off each other’s balls to notice. They’d resorted to selfies with their mallets and the elderflower spritzes Jonathan had made.

Emma had an easy laugh. She and Lily might get along well.

Wait.

Was he considering blending his friend circle with Connor’s crowd, letting his life merge with someone else’s in a way that could turn out worse than all-over foundation?

Not acceptable.

Lily was his friend, only his. Sharing was not wise, not wise at all.

Work wasn’t a place for drama, or at least it shouldn’t be, so he focused on balancing on the stool and reaching above his head to attach the retro geometric-print background paper to the display board. The pressure of squeezing the staple gun handle and the chunk-chunk of staples finding their places settled into a rhythm.

He stepped down to look at his work.

There was a gap.

In the lower left, brown backing board showed between the edge of the paper and the display case’s frame where he hadn’t aligned the design correctly all the way down the frame, or maybe weather had warped the display case, or he’d lost focus.

Fuck fuckity fuck. He’d have to redo it.

This was an easy task, people did it every day, certainly elementary teachers like Connor did it all the time, and he’d made a glaring mistake. Everyone would see how sloppy he was. He was always sloppy.

It had to go. He must fix it.