Page 11 of The Librarian’s Familiar

Charlie didn’t care; he was allowed to have a little fun. He smiled and gave him a little wave. “See you soon.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

August stalked back to his parents’ place, annoyed with himself for being so fucking obvious. And annoyed with Charlie for being himself. He was exactly the kind of man he usually avoided. Too self-assured, like he knew men wanted him.

And yet Charlie seemed to have no idea who he was. There’d been no flicker of recognition when he’d introduced himself, and that’s what he usually looked for, someone who didn’t know who he was.

Nothing else.

Hell, most of the time he never knew their names, and they didn’t know his. And there was Charlie wanting a coffee and a chat. Like a date or something.

He didn’t like the way Charlie had seen straight through him, or the way he’d dodged questions before they’d barely left his lips.

Nor did he like the way he wanted to buy Charlie that coffee.

Or the way he itched to learn more about him. It wasn’t Charlie… No, it was him. He was still hiding, afraid of being caught, even though it no longer mattered. He didn’t have a career to protect.

He didn’t have anything.

And he hadn’t come home to sniff around the new Coven librarian. He wasn’t even sure why he cared. It wasn’t as if he was planning on staying, and the town needed a Coven representative. But watching Charlie and Sinclair together had created a spark inside him he hadn’t been able to ignore. While labelling it as jealousy was possibly a little too extreme, it was certainly something far too close. He wanted that. Not that he was even sure what that was.

Was it the flirty banter?

Or perhaps the way they were so open about it, like they didn’t care who was watching or who realized. He’d lived with that fear for so long it was almost impossible to imagine living without it—like stepping naked onto the ice.

Maybe it was as simple as wanting someone to look at him like that and laugh and smile without demand or expectation. Without it being the prelude to negotiating something more.

Their interaction had seemed so easy, but then they had already slept together. The thought twisted in his guts; even though he didn’t want to imagine them together, the image still formed.

Fucking foxes. They were so crafty that they always got what they wanted.

Although Sinclair had said Charlie wasn’t interested in more, which left the door open for him. Not that he was in a better position, as Charlie had pushed back pretty hard.

Unless he bought him a coffee.

It wasn’t a big ask.

No, he wasn’t that curious.

He let himself into the house and left his boots and coat in the mudroom. The house smelled of slow-cooked meat, so he followed his nose to the kitchen. His mother was in there rolling out pastry.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. Nothing’s changed that much. Yet at the same time, it’s all different.” The town had seemed so big growing up, but each time he’d come home from boarding school, it had been smaller. So even though he recognized objectively that it had grown, it was still so much smaller than the places he was used to living.

She laughed. “Just because you’re used to big cities. I don’t know how you lived there for so long.” She shook her head, lips still curved in a smile.

“I got used to it, and I started to enjoy the bustle and noise. The city lights…” While he appreciated the quiet home, being surrounded by so much wilderness, being in the middle of a big city was a different kind of wild.

“Our kind doesn’t belong in the city.”

“You could say that about any shifter. What are you making?”

“Hare pies. Your father caught some last week.”

“I haven’t had that in forever.”

“I know. There’s no point in you hanging around, though, because I won’t be ready till dinner time.” She used a floury hand to point. “But I set a bit of meat aside because I thought you might want a sandwich or something for lunch.”