Page 102 of Just This Once

I stuck out my hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”

His grin widened as he wiped his hand across his black pants before extending it to me. “Pleasure.”

I eyed the brown paper over his shoulder. “What are you working on?”

His eyes shifted, and he stepped to the side, as if he could block me from whatever it was he was doing. “Just a little town project.”

My eyes narrowed. I smelled bullshit but didn’t know why. “Okay, well... your aunt Bug asked to meet me at the library. I’m hoping to win some extra points. Any suggestions before I head to the Sugar Bowl?”

The mischievous twinkle in Royal’s eye gave me hope. “Junkers.”

My eyebrows lifted. “What now?”

He smiled. “Junkers. That’ll win her over for sure. They’re these little bits of homemade biscuit dough discards that are rolled in cinnamon sugar, then baked. Huck sells them till theyrun out, so you might be shit out of luck but”—he shrugged—“it’s worth a shot.”

“Got it.” I smiled and sent him a salute. “Thanks, Royal!”

Leaving him to his oddly secretive window project, I ducked into the Sugar Bowl. Thankfully, the off-menu item was in stock, and I left with a white paper bag in hand and a major pep in my step.

When I reached the library, I stared up at the aging building. It had so much potential, if only the right person would give it the love it deserved. Once inside, I wove through the stacks until I found Bug standing behind one of the small librarian desks.

Her subtle frown morphed into a small smile when she recognized me. “Glad you could make it.”

I smiled and held out the white paper sack. “I stopped for an afternoon pick-me-up.”

Her eyebrow tipped up as she took the bag and unrolled the top. When she recognized the pastries inside, she let out a small sigh. “Now that’s not playing fair.”

I smiled. “Haven’t got the slightest idea what you mean. Now what can I help you with, Bug?”

She slipped the treats into a drawer and rounded the desk. “Walk with me.”

Together we wound through the stacks, observing the people of Outtatowner. A young man worked with an older patron on how to access his email account. Another couple huddled on the plush seats stacked in a quiet corner. A librarian pushed a cart to restack returned books. The hum and rhythm of the library was a surprising comfort—much like the afternoon I’d spent inside Bluebird Books.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Bug motioned toward the row of office doors down a back hallway in the library. With a knock, we were allowed to enter and stood in front of an elderlywoman with kind eyes. “Dottie, this is Emily. She’s the woman I was telling you about.”

Dottie moved around her desk and offered her hand, which I took. “Pleasure to meet you. Bug has been absolutelyravingabout you.”

I glanced to my right to see Bug’s stern face give a subtle eye roll. I stifled a laugh but allowed the compliment to settle over me. “That’s very kind. It’s nice to meet you, too, though I’m not sure why I’m here exactly.”

Dottie laughed and swatted the air. “Oh, leave it to Bug to be all cloak-and-dagger about it.”

Bug softly grunted beside me.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Dottie continued. “I would like to offer you a job. Head librarian of the Children’s Department, to be exact.”

My jaw dropped open. “Oh... I’m sorry. What?”

Dottie’s smile widened. “I believe you’re aware, but we’ve been attempting to revitalize our children’s section for a while now—without much luck, unfortunately. We could use someone with your experience with children, along with your fundraising background. It was quite impressive what you accomplished for the educational foundation, and the ideas Bug shared with the board were a big hit.”

I blinked. “Oh, I—I mean... it was really the Bluebirds who got the ball rolling with all of the fundraising.”

“Nonsense,” Bug interrupted. “We brainstormed a few ideas, but it was Emily who planned and executed everything with precision. We’d be fools not to hire her.”

I stared wide eyed at Bug King.

Dottie’s tittering laugh filled her small office. “I’m not disagreeing with you.” She turned her attention to me. “Emily, we think you’d be perfect.”

My thoughts tumbled, one on top of another in a jumbled mess. “I mean... I’m a teacher. Don’t I need a special certification or something?”

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