“Yes, ma’am,” John agreed, walking around the kitchen island. “It’s okay to admit that it’s hard.”

Becca’s pointed chin rested on her knuckles as she watched him. “Do you need a hug?” she asked.

“Yeah, I could use one, if you’re not too busy.”

She threw her arms around his waist and lingered for a moment. “If it makes you feel better,” she murmured against his belly.

He chuckled as he held her, remembering how small she used to be. An ankle-biter who followed him around asking a million questions about the trees, the sky, ants on the sidewalk. If he closed his eyes, he could keep her at that safe age when her life wasn’t so tumultuous. When he released her and pushed her back on her barstool, he smiled down at her. “I do feel better. Thank you, honey.”

“Me too,” she admitted.

Crisis averted. For now.

After getting Becca to bed, entirely too late, John climbed into his own. As he plugged in his phone and set the alarm, he caught a missed email in his notifications. Curious as to who could be emailing at midnight, he took the bait.

Mr. Donovan:

I’ve checked my bookshelves, my nightstand, and my “Friend of the Farmingdale Public Library” tote bag. The book in question is not here. It appears that your people are mistaken.

Regards,

Victoria Reese, Ph.D.

Assistant Professor of English

Pembroke University

[email protected]

Office: (309) 555-6043

Cell: (309) 555-3689

The timestamp read 11:56 p.m. Six minutes ago. John settled against his pillows and read the message again. Really? She thought this was a good time to contact him about a book? It made sense, of course. When they’d met, she was wound tighter than a Swiss-made watch. It didn’t take away from how beautiful she was. As she held it together, he noticed small ticks that made her even more charming. The way she quietly sucked her teeth or cut her eyes when he said something stupid. The turn of her neck when she slipped a braid behind her ear. The way she bit on her lower lip...

He knew he’d laid on the charm extra thick during their non-meeting. He probably didn’t need to, but she was too captivating to resist. With her buttoned-up demeanor and her classy skirt suit. Patent leather nude pumps, which managed to match her soft cinnamon skin. High-strung and gorgeous. Not necessarily the kind he went after, but he felt drawn to her nonetheless. Upon shaking her hand, he’d felt it. “It” felt like nervous energy that needed to be stroked with a calm hand, kissed away, or held gently. By the time she’d pulled away from him, John wanted to do all of those things and more.