Page 60 of Accidentally Yours
Ethan:I have an idea about the clue. Meet me at the bagel shop across from the library at 4:00? Probably best to wear a disguise.
Chapter Twenty-One
EthanspottedPaigethesecond she turned the corner toward the bagel shop. He leaned against the brick storefront, wondering how she always knocked the wind out of him. Today, she wore a baseball hat, her ebony waves pulled into a ponytail, the bill of the cap low over her forehead. Oversized sunglasses hid half her face, and her T-shirt readKiss the Cook. Instead of her usual yoga pants, she had on . . . jean overalls. Short ones. With rainbow patches on the pockets.
He blinked, grinning as she approached.
Paige tipped her sunglasses down as she neared, just enough to reveal her warm chocolate eyes. “Too much?” she asked.
Ethan couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth. “No. I love the outfit.”
“You said to disguise myself, so I went to the back of my closet and dug deep.” She tucked her hands in her overall pockets. “I wore these overalls like every day the summer before senior year of college. There was a time when they were in style.” She pushed her sunglasses back in place. “And I have no idea where this T-shirt came from. Gigi must’ve left it at my place. No one will suspect that I’m wearing a shirt related to cooking.”
He laughed and handed her an iced chai. “It’s a good disguise.”
“Thank you.” She took the drink with a smile, her fingers brushing his. His stomach did a quiet somersault. He wanted to take her in his arms. Instead, he took a swig of his hot, black coffee, letting it burn down his throat.
“I didn’t do as well with my disguise,” he admitted. He wanted to blend in, if there were still fans and treasure hunters milling about in the library, so he left the leather jacket and aviators at home. He’d thrown on a baseball hat, which he rarely wore. Other than that, he was in his standard T-shirt and jeans.
“You could’ve thrown on a stick-on mustache or something. Really sold the look.” She sipped her chai, and he was relieved that she was being playful. Something warm and familiar fluttered in his chest, and Ethan told himself to stop it. Paige had made it clear at the rink that whatever he’d thought was building between them, she wasn’t ready for. Or maybe not even interested in.
“I was doing some digging last night,” he said, shifting gears. “Found two old articles from library fundraisers my grandparents spoke at. The same guy wrote them, five years apart. I looked him up. Turns out, he still works at the library as the Special Collections Archivist.”
Paige raised her brow, looking impressed. “Really? You think he knows something about the clue?”
“It’s worth talking to him,” he added with a shrug. “He has an office. Might be the ‘locked by a key’ part of the clue.”
“Oh, good connection. That’s totally possible.”
“I emailed him. Said he’d be in today and to stop by.”
Paige nodded. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go talk to this archivist guy.”
They crossed the street together, both pulling their hats low as they neared the library. It felt like pre-skating rink times—two writers on a mission, shoulder to shoulder, sharing an adventure. Slipping through a back entrance, they avoided the crowd and went straight for the stairs. And as they crept through the second floor and padded along the aisles, Ethan pushed down the memory of sharing that quiet nook with Paige, of pressing her against the bookshelves and barely keeping himself from kissing her.
The memory tortured him, so he focused on the task ahead.
“It’s just down this way,” Ethan said, leading them down an empty hall. He stopped short at the last office, seeing the plaque on the door that readDr. Frederick Simons, Archivist. Ethan looked over at Paige. She gave him a small, curious shrug.
He knocked.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing an older gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses, silver hair, and a handlebar mustache. He patted the chest of his well-worn cardigan. “Ethan Cole?”
“Yes, Dr. Simons. I’m the one that emailed you. And this is Paige Moon.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Dr. Simons smiled, stepping aside to wave them in. “Please, call me Fred. I’ve been expecting you.”
Ethan followed Paige into the office, which was overflowing with books and file boxes. Fred gestured to two wingback chairs, and they settled in as the archivist moved behind his desk. It overflowed with papers, sticky notes, and the oldest computer Ethan had ever seen.
“The library has been a circus this past week,” Fred started. Ethan thought he was going to reprimand them for starting the chaos. Instead, he said, “But I wasn’t going to let anyone find the clue, except you.”
Ethan stilled. His pulse ticked up. “You have it?”
“The clue?” Paige added, leaning forward.
Fred nodded and moved to a shelf on the back wall. Ethan held his breath as the man ran his fingers down a row of spines and plucked out a leather-bound book.
Ethan instantly recognized it. “My grandfather’s journal.” He stood from his chair and stepped toward Fred. “I thought it was lost.”
