“While we’re waiting on the food, let’s talk about our vision for the new park in the square,” Ron begins.
Unlike a lot of small towns, where the square is centered around a large courthouse, Dansboro Crossing has a small park as its center point. It’s surrounded by the courthouse, the bank, a handful of businesses, two cafés, a community center, and the library.
I have a lot of ideas on how to turn the worn-out plot of ground in the middle into something the town can be proud of. It’s part of why I asked Austen to order the books on landscaping.
“I think it needs a focal point. Maybe a large shade tree, since it gets blistering hot here in the summer. Something that can withstand the heat. A small stage would be nice too.” We pitch ideas back and forth until our food arrives. It’s been close to an hour when Mr. Daily finally checks his watch.
“We’d better go. You have the new plantings at the Greens’ today, right?” he asks.
“Yes, sir. Then we have to go do a spring clean up at Mrs. Hasting’s new listing on Elm.”
“Very good.” Ron stands. He picks the check off the table while studying me. I’m trying to fight the need to fidget. “You know what? I think I’ll let you put together our proposal.”
“Really, sir?” To say I’m shocked would be an understatement. I’ve only been working for Mr. Daily full-time for a handful of months now. Not nearly long enough to be trusted with a major pitch like this one. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, son. I’m anxious to see what you can do. Bring me your preliminary thoughts by the end of the week. That should give us plenty of time to refine the proposal before presenting it to the city council.” With a nod, Ron walks to the cash register.
My mouth gapes as he leaves. I finally pull myself together enough to slide out of the booth.
I need those books. Like now. The mass of YouTube videos I’ve poured over, trying to learn more about landscaping, just won’t cut it. I should see if there are any classes in horticulture at the college.
Mr. Daily is just pulling out of the lot in his truck when I step outside. He waves goodbye, even though I’m positive I’ll see him shortly to check on the progress at the Greens’. I climb in my truck and sit for a moment. I’m still stunned over being given the responsibility of landing the town square project.
I should share this with someone. The first person that pops into my mind is Austen. It’s always Austen. Will she be proud of me? I throw my truck in reverse. I could have just walked. The library is less than a block away.
I’m so excited to share this with her that I hardly notice the walk to the library door. I can see it now. I’ll announce to Austen that I’m now a man of great responsibility. She’ll run across the room and throw herself at me in her elation.
Fine, that probably wouldn’t happen, but it would make for the start of a good movie. I shake my head. I have to stop watching romances with Gran before my dude card completely dissolves.
Pulling the door open, I stomp into the building only to come to a dead stop when my vision is filled with something better than romance. Bent over in front of me is unadulterated porn at its best.
Austen is leaning over the circulation desk, her back to me. She’s obviously in the middle of discussing something with Kim, the part-time circulation clerk. But the view is even better than my porn fantasy which, for some reason, has the head librarian dressed in a skintight catsuit.
I know, I’m still a perv. Sue me. If I had any remaining spit left in my mouth, I’m certain there would be a line of drool from it to the floor. If this was a cartoon, I’d be that dog whose eyes bug out of his head. There would be an aaa-ooga sound to go along.
The short black skirt she has on has ridden up in the back from her bending over. It barely covers the best ass in a tri-state area. There must be at least a mile of leg. Not the skinny legs she had as a child. Full-on adult woman ones that would feel like a vise around my waist.
But that’s not enough. Oh no. She just had to wear a pair of heeled ankle boots that elongate her calves to epic proportions. Fuck me heels. Yes, thank you.
As if in slow motion, she stands up straight and turns to face me. I’d missed the deep-blue short-sleeved sweater that hugs the top of her body in all the right places.
I, of course, can still name the day and time her breasts started to fill out her T-shirts. It was a hot summer day. She was playing with the garden hose in the front yard. But I digress.
My sex-addled gaze lands on her beautiful brown eyes. Fuck me running. Even the vintage-looking glasses are sexy. Her hair is pulled up in a clip behind her head. Does she even realize she’s every man’s fantasy? Is it legal to be that hot of a librarian?
“Damn, who are you hoping to lay?” I can hear the words exit my mouth but seem unable to stop them. Please come back before they reach her ears. Her sweet face goes from curious to steaming mad in a matter of seconds. I can’t move. I can’t think of the words that can fix this.
“Fuck me,” I growl. That was definitely not them. Her face registers shock. Run away, my brain screams. Just run and don’t look back. So I do. Like a coward. I make it back into the parking lot in record time. I can find and safely discharge a landmine in an open field. But there’s no way I’m going to hang around to hear the tongue-lashing coming my way.
Jumping into my truck, I throw it in gear, trying not to fling gravel as I race out of the parking lot. I just royally screwed everything up worse than it already was. There’s something wrong with me. I should go in for an MRI or CAT scan or whatever they need to check for brain anomalies. Maybe they should do both. Or just skip right to the lobotomy.
“Hello, Austen. You look lovely today. That’s all you needed to say, idiot. But, no. You had to blurt out something totally inappropriate in a family setting.” Great, now I’m talking to myself. Why am I incapable of just being nice? So what if every man that entered that library today stares at her ass? She isn’t some pretty girl I have to protect anymore.
Except there’s one problem. I want the answer to my question to be me. I want her to hope to lay me. It’s not going to happen now, though. Probably not ever. I’ll be stunned if she ever speaks to me again, much less wants to climb on me. I jump when there’s a knock at the window. When did I get to the Greens’?
“You okay?” Joe asks when I climb out of the truck.
“Yeah, just thinking.” That even sounds lame to me. “Boss wants me to put together some ideas for the square. I was just running over a couple of thoughts.” Sure. I mean, if you're going to lie, at least sell it.