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Flexing her hands on the wheel, she let out a long breath. Now more than ever, she wanted—needed—to stay in Bliss Cove. Being awarded tenure would ensure her job security and also allow her to continue living where her roots were planted.
She followed the coastal road north out of town to an expanse of land where a massive, old Victorian mansion sat beneath a bower of trees. A round tower rose from the back, giving the place a fairy-tale quality.
She parked, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. She ascended the columned front porch and went inside. A hush filled the cool, dark air, and a few people sat at the long tables reading and studying.
Callie approached the weathered, wooden front desk. The librarian, Beatrice Delaney, was busy checking in books.
“Hi, Bee.”
The young woman startled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Callie, sorry. I didn’t even hear you come in. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks.” Callie set her satchel on the desk. “I just wanted to pick up the books you ordered for me through interlibrary loan. You messaged me that they were in.”
“Yes, the last one just came in yesterday.” Bee turned toward the hold shelf and perused the alphabetically stacked titles. “I told Peter to put them under your name, but I don’t see them here. Hold on a second.”
She picked up the landline phone—cell service being spotty on this isolated stretch of coastline—and dialed. “Peter? It’s Bee.”
With a sigh, Callie glanced at her watch again. Forty-five minutes to her meeting. She also needed to stop at her office on the way to pick up her notes.
An elderly gentleman approached the desk with a stack of mystery novels, giving Callie a nod of greeting.
“Callie, I’m sorry.” Bee turned, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. “He mistakenly put them back in the stacks instead of on the hold shelf. I’ll run up and get them for you.”
Callie stifled a rush of impatience. She shook her head, indicating that Bee should help the gentleman check out his books. “It’s okay, I’ll get them.”
Before Bee could protest, Callie picked up her satchel and hurried toward the worn staircase leading to the upper floors. She reached the third floor and crossed the expanse of looming shelves to the Greek mythology section in the very back. She checked the list of call numbers on her phone.
Eight books—and she’d left her book bag on campus. No time to come back later either, as she had to get over to her mother’s house right after the meeting. Besides, she was here now and she wasn’t about to waste time.
She perused the shelves and hauled out the heavy books from between others that were coated with dust. The last volume was so large it was stacked sideways on a lower shelf. Callie knelt to yank it out and grimaced as cobwebs clung to her cashmere sleeve. Some of the shelves had apparently never seen the benefits of the library’s cleaning budget.
She put her phone back into her purse. After piling the books on top of each other, she hefted the stack into her arms and hurried back to the stairs. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the narrow, gated elevator, which she usually avoided due to its advanced age. She started toward it. Her arms were already strained, and she’d need to shave seconds off this errand to avoid being late.
She punched the call button with her elbow, shifting the books into the crook of her other arm. Smears of dirt and dust covered her beige silk blouse and the front of her sweater.
She groaned. All she needed was to walk into the meeting and face six senior professors with smudges streaking her clothes. If Bee got her books checked out quickly, she might have time to stop at the ladies’ room and try to clean up.
Where was the elevator? The darned thing didn’t even have numbers indicating its location. She shifted again, hitching her satchel higher up on her shoulder. Her long, straight hair was starting to escape its usual neat chignon, which meant another repair before the meeting.
She blew a stray lock of hair away from her forehead and hefted the books to her other arm. Strength training at the gym was nothing compared to hauling around Greek mythology books.
“Comeon.” She glowered at the elevator, as if irritation would make it move. If she’d taken the stairs, she’d be at the check-out desk by now.
“Can I help you?”
A deep male voice rolled over her skin. She turned, her gaze colliding with thick-lashed eyes so blue that looking into them was like diving into a pool of pristine, tropical water.
Her breath caught. A hot shiver ran down her spine. “Um…excuse me?”
“Those look heavy.” He stopped beside her and reached for the books.
Reflexively, Callie clutched the dusty stack tighter against her chest. Words dissolved in her throat. If a Greek hero statue came to life, this man would be the result.
He was big, well over six feet, with strong, classical features—high cheekbones sloped down to a square jaw and beautifully shaped mouth, and he studied her with penetrating intensity from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. His longish hair, a strikingly uniform and heavy shade of dirty blond, brushed the collar of his jacket, and his wide shoulders looked as if they could bear any weight in the world. A black strap cut across his chest, holding a camera at his side.
Callie struggled to take a breath. Though her arm muscles ached from holding the books, she shook her head. “I…I’m fine. Thank you.”
She turned and stabbed the elevator button again.Whywas it taking so long?
