Page 85 of Authentically, Izzy
The spacious entrance to the library boasted walls decorated on either side with beach-related kid art. Ah, Brodie recalled Izzy telling him the theme for the next two weeks was ocean creatures. Beyond the entrance, the room opened to reveal neat rows of books, plenty of natural light streaming in from floor-to-ceiling windows, and all framing a large desk centered directly in front of him, where a rather unwelcoming woman of middle-age stood. A few other people stood nearby, but Brodie kept his focus on the librarian and donned a friendly smile.
She did not reciprocate. His pace slowed. Was this Izzy’s aunt? Hadn’t Izzy mentioned something about Josephine’s influence on her aunt’s opinion and how the woman hated the idea of some man from another country sweeping in and stealing Izzy away forever?
“Good morning.” She didn’t so much as flinch, but stared at him with such intensity he wondered if she read his thoughts. “I’m Brodie Sutherland. I think perhaps Izzy—”
“I know who you are.” Her frown deepened as she examined him with narrowing eyes, but gave no further exposition.
“Ah, well, I was hoping to join Izzy’s story time this morning.” He checked his watch, just to give his eyes something to focus on besides her face. “Ten o’clock, isn’t it?”
The older woman did not immediately answer, but her careful perusal started at the top of Brodie’s head and traveled down to the notebook in his hands and back. If possible, the creases in her brow deepened into shadowy caverns enough to steal his Blighty Mastiff moniker without contest.
A young woman cleared her throat nearby, obviously waiting for the librarian to finish helping her.
“Wait here and I’ll show you the way.” Her gaze moved to a man Brodie hadn’t noticed, who was standing to his left. In complete contrast to the scowl she’d offered Brodie, she bathed the stranger with a dazzling smile. “You too, honey.”
The older woman disappeared down the library aisle and left Brodie standing in the residual silence with the stranger. He was a swarthy-looking fellow, dark hair waved back away from his face, and Brodie had caught a quick glance of uncommonly blue eyes, eyes now used to burn a stare into Brodie’s profile.
A swell of undetermined uneasiness rivered up through his stomach as the silence continued, so Brodie finally turned.
The man’s smile flashed wide. “You here for Izzy too?”
Brodie followed the man’s gaze down to the notebook he held and back, an uncomfortable foreboding tightening every muscle in his body.Too?“Yes.”
The man nodded and sent a grin to a young woman walking by before turning his attention back to Brodie. “Do you know how long her little story thing is supposed to last?” He glanced down at his phone, then looked toward the window as if gauging the accuracy of the time on his phone. “I thought I’d wait around to get a chance to see her, but it all depends on how long she’s going to be with those kids.”
Perhaps Brodie wasn’t being charitable to this man, with his swath of black hair and two-inch height advantage. True, the very idea that he wanted to see Izzy pinched a frown into place on Brodie’s face. But... wouldn't he expect people to come to the library to ask Izzy questions? He couldn't expect all of her visitors to be freckle-faced children.
“I believe story time is an hour.”
The man’s head came up from his phone, his gaze taking Brodie in as if for the first time. “You’re not a local.”
Clearly. “No, I’m visiting Izzy from abroad.”
One of his brows tipped up. “Abroad?”
The question didn’t need a response really, so Brodie merely nodded, the discomfort in his chest tightening with each passing second. Who was this chap?
“Well, Izzy’s one of a kind, that’s for sure. She just gets people. Understands characters and books.” He leaned back against the counter and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “And she’s great with romance too.”
Brodie was incapable of responding, which didn’t seem to impact the man at all.
“She’s completely changed my life. Her creativity and ability to get to the heart of the problem? To read deeper?” His bright-blue eyes flashed to Brodie’s face. “And her passion.”
“Passion?” The word croaked from Brodie’s throat.
“Of course, passion. Wow! She just keeps it bottled up until the right time and then...” He shook his head, his dastardly grin growing. “I’m just saying that, if you’re going to make an impression on Izzy, you’ll need to be an avid reader.” The man continued, his chin taking on an arrogant tilt with a smile that seemed much too large for his face. He even seemed to lord his extra inches over Brodie, bending a little at the waist to accommodate the quiet a library required. “For example”—the man waved toward the books on the counter in front of him—“I’ve read at least five of these right here in front of me. Popular-fiction titles. These three in particular are very popular. You’ll probably want to read them.” He pointed to three covers with various aspects of Rome highlighted on the front. “Just a little advice.” He took up the books he referenced and created a little stack in front of him on the counter like a little trophy.
An avid reader? Brodie surveyed the paltry stack of books the man referenced. Surely this stranger didn’t dare lecturehimon reading? Brodie’s gaze fell to the piles of books on a cart nearby, taking inventory of the array of paperbacks and hardcovers, his attention pulled to a set of familiar loves. Without hesitation and a growing smile, he snagged the massive volume of Dickens’sBleak House, then a copy ofHarry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which just so happened to have the largest page count of the series, and he topped his little bookstack off with Melville’sMoby Dick, leaving Brodie’s book tower two inches taller—and much more prestigious-looking—than his competitor’s. “I happen to be an extremely avid reader.”
The man’s eyes widened, and with only a hint of hesitation he stepped around the edge of the closest bookshelf and reemerged with four more books in hand. Without breaking eye contact, he added them to his growing tower, a look of unadulterated arrogance on his face.
Brodie almost chuckled. The loon had no idea with whom he was dealing. Casting a glance up at the category signs above the shelves, Brodie dashed off to the Classics section and returned withDon Quixote,War and Peace—both around a thousand pages—The Hunchback of Notre Dameat nearly two thousand, and grabbed The Lord of the Rings trilogy on his way back to the desk, carefully adding his finds to his growing set, which dwarfed the stranger’s miniature list of modern paperbacks.
“You have not read all of those.” The man’s eyes narrowed into blue slits.
“I can give you a summary of each and every one if you want, and I keep a reading log.” Brodie reached for his satchel at his hip. “With dates and—”
Without another hesitation, the man disappeared down the aisle again, this time returning with at least ten new books to add to his somewhat lopsided tower.
