Page 83 of Forgotten Romance

My walk takes me around the lake and back again. I’m moving enough that it keeps the cold away, even if my coffee doesn’t agree, and the mindless walking does the trick of easing my frustration.

Or maybe that was the conversation with Luke. No idea.

On my way back to the car, I find myself detouring away from the water and toward the large building a block away. It’s all red brick with a short spire on one side that holds a large clock face.

I can see why Mack loves it here. There’s a park across the road, and every time I’ve been here recently, I can see us spending the morning with Kiera and Van at the park before picking out a book on the way home.

Hell, maybe Mack can pick out some more sexy books too. I wouldn’t be opposed to reading those to him before bedtime.

My footsteps slow as I reach the doors and check inside to make sure he isn’t at his desk. It’s clear, so I tilt my head down and walk quickly, ducking down the usual aisle and following my path toward the back where the fiction books are.

For something so popular, The Hobbit mustn’t be a book many people read because it’s sitting right where it normally is.

I pull it out and then realize I have no fucking clue what to write this time.

My Hobbit knowledge only goes so far, and I don’t care what Mack says: this book is boring as fuck. I’ve never been able to get past the front page. Thank you, Google.

“I knew it was you.”

“Argh.” I jump and drop the book, the hard corner smashing into my foot. Pain shoots up my leg, and I struggle to hold back the curse that tries to slip out.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Mack says, stooping to pick it up.

“I’m okay,” I grit out.

Mack laughs. “I was talking to the book.”

“There is no way that’s true.”

He slides The Hobbit back onto the shelf and turns sympathetic eyes on me. “You okay?”

“Fine. It was just … sudden. I guess.”

“Right.”

I shake my foot out for emphasis, and then his words catch up with me. “What do you mean, you knew?”

He leans back against the shelf. “At first, I thought it might have been Luke leaving me the notes. He likes the book, and he had visited when I found those first two left for me.”

“Of course he had,” I mutter.

“But the next one didn’t sound like him. Then when you mentioned it the other night, I checked the handwriting again …” His smile starts out slow and builds. “You’ve never even watched the movies.”

It’s my turn to act cocky. “What do you think I’ve been doing while you were working?”

“You watched them?”

“Well, I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing, have I?”

He watches me for a moment. “Which ones?”

“Which what?”

“Movies. Which ones have you watched? Did you do the series as well?”

“Ah … series?”

“Yeah, there’s a TV series.”

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