Page 26 of Overdue

“Oh, no. It’s a global catastrophe,” Austen says under her breath. I have to turn the laugh I bark into a cough to spare the poor girl's fragile feelings.

“It could be checked out, sweetie. Let me look for you.” She looks over her shoulder and sticks her tongue out. What was that? Did we just have a moment? What’s happening?

I fall back unceremoniously into the library chair. Snarky, pissed Austen I understand. But sweet Austen? This is going to take some time.

I watch her move around the library for a couple of minutes helping other patrons. She manages to convince the distressed tween the world will not end in the week she has to wait for the next book to be checked back in. She receives a hug after promising, for the third time, that the girl is next on the list, and Austen will call her the moment it comes back.

Austen is both patient and kind, helping one of the elderly patrons who need help filling out a form online. It’s plain to see the gentleman is frustrated with the system. She sits next to him until they have it completed. He squeezes her hand before he finally walks, with the use of his cane, out the front door.

Seamlessly, she transitions to help a young mother pick out age-appropriate books for her three rowdy kids. Austen gets them all checked out and wrestled out to the woman’s car. She returns inside just in time to help the next overtaxed mom.

I have to drag my attention away from her and focus on everything that still needs to be completed for the council meeting. I have to pick out all the plantings, check on several bids I’m subcontracting out, and build a timeline for completion. If I can get all of the details pulled together, I’ll have a week to perfect my presentation.

I’m getting close to having the planting list completed when I feel myself being watched again. I know the girls at the next table headed out a while ago. I look up to find Austen standing at the table. The library has grown quiet.

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine. But, as penance, you have to help me.”

“With pleasure. What do you need me to do?” I place my stuff back in my bag and follow Austen into the stacks.

“I need you to put books on the high shelves so I don’t have to drag the stool around.”

“I can do that.” She hands me the first book and points to where it belongs. Stretching, I manage to wrestle it into place.

“Mmm. Here’s the next one.”

I take the next book and reach up to slide it into place. I pull my shirt back down. It keeps riding up when I crane to hit the upper shelves.

“And another one.”

I have to step onto the bottom shelf to reach the top this time. I can barely reach it as I strain with one arm raised. My T-shirt is somewhere halfway up my stomach now. I should order longer shirts. “Next,” I say, stepping down.

Austen has an odd look on her face. It’s very similar to the one she gave me before barfing on my shoes under the bleachers. Suddenly, she grabs the front of my T-shirt and jerks me to her. I almost lose my footing, but catch the shelves on either side of her to stop my fall.

Then her lush, warm lips crash against mine.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have imagined what kissing Austen would be like since I was fourteen. But, to say I’m surprised by the turn of events would be a gross understatement. Floored, overwhelmed, amazed, astounded, flabbergasted? Nothing seems enough to sum up what’s happening. All I can think about is kissing her back. I have to make this last as long as she’ll let me.

ten

AUSTEN

Am I the one moaning? Could that possibly be me? Reed’s lips are strong, warm, and demanding. And, oh, the things he’s doing with his tongue.

I feel weightless yet grounded at the same time. Somewhere, in this moment, is an epic love story just waiting to be written. One that will stand the test of time.

Wait, this is Reed Campbell I’m kissing. What am I doing? This isn’t the timeless love story unfolding. This is the flaming plane crash on its way down. Friends, we might be able to handle, but not this.

Flattening my palms, I shove him back. He crashes against the bookshelf behind him.

“What are you doing?” I yell.

“I thought I was kissing you. Is that not what we’re doing?” With one hand, he brushes the hair off his forehead. Damn it. Stop being so sexy.

“Why would you do that?” I hear it. I’m the one saying it, and I know I’m being irrational. I can’t stop. Perhaps, it’s the embarrassment of attacking him like a horny cat on the prowl. Perhaps, it’s the fact I very much want to continue kissing him. Doesn’t matter. I can’t go down this road with Reed.

“You kissed me first,” he points out. At the very least, he could take responsibility for his part in seducing me into kissing him. And it was a delicious seduction.

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