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“I don’t have any bars.” She turns her phone for me to see. “Supposedly the best cell phone service in the world, but I can’t get any bars in this damn place.”
“No problem. We’ll just use my phone.” I smugly pull out my phone but wince. “Fuck.”
“Let me guess? Your service isn’t any better?”
“They really have turned this place into Fort Knox,” I mutter. “Doors that automatically lock. Cell phone blockers.” I glance around. “Do you think we could send an email out from one of the computers? Or maybe there’s a phone in the librarian’s office?”
Samantha opens her mouth as if she’s about to tell me my ideas are ridiculous. But after a second, she just sighs. “You try the computers, I’ll try the phone?”
“Deal.” I hold out my hand to shake on it.
She stares at my hand like I’ve offered her a plate of lizard tails or canned beets.
“Come on, Sammy.” I extend my hand even closer. “You’re a woman of the business world. You know how to do it.”
It takes her another long moment until she begrudgingly accepts my hand. A jolt of electricity shoots through me as her palms touch. Her eyes widen and, taking a step back, she drops my hand. She must have felt it too. Weird.
“Phones and computers?” she says.
I nod and swallow past a lump in my throat. “Phones and computers.”
We reconvene several minutes later, both of us disappointed—and more than a little pissed off—with our inability to reach the outside world.
“I don’t get it.” I ball my hands into fists at my side. “I get that there have been budget cuts, but do they really save that much money turning off the phones and Internet for the summer?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I hate to say it, but I think our only choice is to get comfortable and wait for the janitor to come in tomorrow morning.”
“You mean, we’re stuck here all night?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Unless you want to try your hand at breaking out a window.”
We both know how well that would go over. The glass is probably double—no, triple-paned. “The janitor will be in tomorrow?”
“That’s what I said. I don’t know why you have to question everything I—”
“It’s summer. I thought it was a fair question.”
“Oh.” She purses her lips like she’s just taken a bite of a lemon. Clearly, she doesn’t appreciate it when I’m being reasonable. Or unreasonable for that matter. “Yes, the janitor will be in tomorrow to help prepare for the pancake feed.”
Clenching my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose in anticipation of the headache that will undoubtedly begin to form. “When will the janitor be in tomorrow?”
“What makes you think I’d know something like that?”
I let my hand fall to my side. “We both know you probably have the janitor’s schedule—and personal phone number—on a spreadsheet somewhere.”
She blinks at me. “He’ll be in at six.”
“A.M.?”
“I said they’d be here in the morning.”
That she did. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. This whole situation, it’s just… Fuck.
“So.” I fold my arms across my chest. “What do we do?”
You could start by pushing her back against one of the bookshelves and kissing her.
What the… I frown at the voice inside my head. I am most definitely not going to do that. Even if it would shut her up for more than two minutes together.
