I’d stuffed them in easy to carry bags and laid them out with some books that I didn’t get from the library but bought. With this, I left a note I wrote that told him all of that was his, he could keep the books, more would be there on Wednesday and if there was anything he needed, all he had to do write me a note, tell me what it was, put it in the return bin and I’d get it for him.
Now, I was watching, having gone into the library the night before and checking the bin (he hadn’t returned anything), hoping he hadn’t returned anything since I checked. Also, I was hoping he’d show so I could get a better look at him, see which direction he came from and maybe, surreptitiously, follow him when he left.
I was focused on this and solely on this.
Because if I didn’t focus on this little boy I did not know but I did know needed me (or someone), I’d focus on my weird night with Chace and freak right the frak out.
After tossing and turning, finally getting to sleep in the wee hours of the morning only to drag through work on Friday, so exhausted, I took the alarming news without reaction that the library might, just might, be forced to close because of funding issues, I decided this was my best course of action.
Life was happening all around me. This boy was alone in the cold, getting beaten up by someone and dumpster diving. And I might lose my job and the town its library.
Both of these last were tragic for me, only one for the town.
This was tragic for me not only because it was my job, it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. I loved that library. Since I could remember, Mom took me there to check out books. Since she did this, she told me her Mom did the same with her when she was a little girl. And since I could get there on my own, I went there to get them.
I stayed there to read them. I did this because I loved it there, the feel, the smell of books, the quiet. Most of all I loved the serenity that came from being alone in a world of books at the same time not being alone because the world was around me, some of it real, the vast majority of it worlds all their own, contained on pages bound to a cover.
I didn’t know what I’d do if Carnal Library was closed and not just because it was my paycheck.
So I didn’t have time to worry about the confounding, mixed-message-giving Chace Keaton.
This was precisely the thought I was having when I heard my passenger side door open.
My body jerked, I let out a small cry and my head whipped around to see none other than Chace Keaton climbing in wearing jeans, a fantastic western style belt with an even more fantastic buckle, a canvas jacket lined in fleece, cowboy boots, a pearl snap denim shirt with western style stitching and carrying two white coffee cups from La-La Land Coffee. I knew at a glance that Sunny had either prepared the coffee or the cups because, in purple marker on the side, a bunch of flowers were drawn all around and Sunny drew flowers. If the mood struck him, Shambles drew moons and stars.
“Take this,” Chace ordered apropos of nothing, like, sharing why he was in my car outside the library at eight thirty in the morning with two coffees.
He was extending a cup.
Automatically, my mittened hand reached out and took it.
He settled in, slammed the door closed and kept being bossy.
“For God’s sake, Faye, it’s twenty degrees out there. Turn on the truck.”
“I’m on a stakeout,” I informed him and his eyes came to me so I finished, “I think it’s against the rules to have the car running during a stakeout. The noise will give you away.”
“Yeah, I guessed that you were on a stakeout. Newsflash, darlin’, since you don’t drive to work and your car is the only one in the lot, your sweet ass is in it and you aren’t hiding, I don’t think our street urchin is gonna miss you. This means he’s gonna get nowhere near this place so you might as well turn on the truck so you don’t freeze that sweet ass off.”
That was two “darlin’s”.
And when did my ass turn sweet?
“Chace –”
“Turn on the truck.”
God, he was bossy and annoying in the morning.
“Chace!”
He leaned into me and said quietly, “Baby, turn on the fuckin’ truck.”
Oh God.
Baby was nicer.
Like, by a lot.
I put my coffee between my knees and turned on the truck.
“What does it take? Around a year for this heap to warm up?” Chace asked before taking a sip from his coffee.
“It’s dependable,” I told him, taking my coffee from between my knees.
“Jeeps are. That being said, this should have been put out of its misery about ten years ago.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s a heap.”
“It’s fine, Chace,” I snapped then kept snapping. “What are you doing here? You’re blowing my cover.”
His eyes came to me and his lips were tipped up at the end.
Oh jeez.
His handsome lips on his handsome face tipped up looked nice.
“Blowing your cover?” he asked.
“I think you’re endowing our street urchin with bigger powers than he has. He’s just a kid.”
“He’s a kid living on the streets which means he’s in survival mode. Since no one, including teachers, knows who he fuckin’ is, that means he’s survived awhile.”
This was news.
“The teachers don’t know him?” I asked.
He shook his head and took another sip of his coffee which reminded me to take a sip of mine.
Hazelnut latte. My favorite.
“Nope,” he answered after he swallowed. “Asked the day after you reported seein’ him banged up, principal approached his staff. Went back with the sketch, no one recognizes him. Fingerprints were a bust too.”
“No one?”
“Nope.”
“How can that be?” I asked.
“He doesn’t go to school?” he asked back but it was an answer.
“Oh,” I whispered, his eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips tipped up again.
I liked that.
Frak.
Before I could get my wits about me, Chace spoke. “What’s in that haul?”
“Pardon?”
He tipped his head to the library, taking another sip of coffee so I took one of mine and looked to the library.
Then I looked back at him when he asked, “Those bags by the return bin. What’s in them?”
“A new coat, hat, scarf, gloves, three pairs of wool socks, two pairs of jeans, two warm sweaters, some underwear, a pint of milk, three bottles of water, bologna, cheese, bread, a box of granola bars, three apples, bananas, a cucumber and a ginormous bar of Hershey’s chocolate,” I shared. Chace stared at me without saying a word and he did this awhile so I finished, “He won’t eat the cucumber but Dad would be disappointed in me if I didn’t add roughage.”
“Christ,” he whispered.
“Don’t start,” I commanded. “I know I shouldn’t have added the chocolate but he’s a kid. He should have a treat.”
He kept staring at me without speaking and he did this another while and he did this in a way that made me weirdly nervous. The weirdly part was that I was nervous in a good way so I did the only think I could think to do.
I kept talking.
“By the way, I’ve been thinking on things, Chace, and you chased him too.”
“What?” he asked quietly.
“Thursday night, or Friday morning… whatever. You chased him. You told me I shouldn’t but you did too.”
I got another lip tip. It made me more weirdly nervous in an even better way and he muttered, “True enough. Though, I started out chasing you.”