Page 54 of The Librarian’s Familiar

“You don’t quit, do you?”

“I’ve got to have fun somehow, and it’s in very short supply at the moment.”

“You mean you’ve slept with everyone remotely fuckable?” He kept his voice low even though the shop wasn’t that busy.

“We could do with some fresh blood. Do you have any friends who are younger and hotter, who want to visit?” Sinclair smiled and gave a small flutter of his lashes.

“I’ll let you know.” Charlie wasn’t sure he had younger and hotter friends, and if he did, they sure as hell weren’t going to be moving to Claw Lake, where the nightlife consisted of shifting and going for runs, quiz nights, or darts at the bar, or the once-a-month games night that he was going to be starting at the library.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” He took his breakfast and escaped before someone else collared him and wanted to talk. He’d been up far too early, because of the polar bear in his bed, and instead of trying to go back to sleep for another hour, he’d gotten up, showered, and had a cup of coffee while watching the birds outside.

August had showered and left, claiming that he needed to help his father with something today, thus the early start. Still, it was Friday, which meant he only had a half day of work tomorrow. Now that he’d received a good bit of feedback from the residents, he was putting in another order of books, which was always fun.

This weekend, while the library was closed, he was going to start prepping it for painting. He had already enlisted August’s help both for the heavy lifting and to ask what needed to be bought from the hardware store, which was owned by his family.

August had said he’d take care of it, and he mentioned things like fillers and spatulas and sanding paper. This afternoon, he was planning to stop in and look at paint colors. Because the lime green and nicotine yellow that looked right out of the sixties, was not the vibe he was aiming for. While he couldn’t do much about the dark wooden shelves, at least they were sturdy and easy enough to replicate if he decided he needed more.

He wanted more, but he didn’t want to blow the entire library budget in his first four months even though nothing seemed to have been done for the library. The previous librarian had managed to spend the entire budget on fishing rods and books on fishing and camping and survival.

Half a day of work, then a couple of errands to the hardware store and the grocery store, and then he was going to lie on the sofa by himself and attempt to finish the movie that he’d started last night before it had been interrupted by railing August over the dining table.

“All I’m saying is you don’t need to fill every hole.” The library walls looked like they had been caught in the crossfire of a Wild West shoot-out. There were patches of white filler everywhere.

“And I’m saying that if you’re going to do something, don’t half-ass it. Do it properly.” August slapped some more filler in a hole that Charlie hadn’t even known existed.

He’d started with the obvious ones, the gouges and the scrapes that had been there for years, and had thought they were done and waiting for the filler to dry and be sanded so they could paint tomorrow.

Now August was saying that wasn’t possible, and that they’d be better painting on Monday afternoon. Which meant the library was going to be in a shambles for the Monday morning toddler session.

He literally couldn’t even.

“At least my half-assed version would be passable, and everything would be ready.” He sighed and sat on the chair. His nice orderly library was gone, and it was killing him.

“Why don’t you alphabetize some books while I finish this?” August gave him a look.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, but I can feel your frustration, and it’s making me want to pull things apart with my bare hands.” He growled for effect.

Charlie laughed. “Bare hands or bear hands.” He curled his fingers into claws.

August growled. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Nooo…I don’t want to get eaten.”

“Is that right? So you don’t want me to walk over there and get on my knees?” August stepped off the ladder like he was about to cover ground in a hurry.

It didn’t help that Charlie felt August’s desire to do just that. His bear was rather fond of getting a mouthful. “No, there’s too much work to do.” His teeth raked over his lower lip, remembering Sinclair’s warning. “Aren’t you worried about your brothers figuring out that there’s something going on?”

While August had told his brothers he was gay, them realizing he was sleeping with a witch was a different matter, and if they figured out that they were fated mates… “I don’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of angry polar bears.”

He lined his pens up on the desk, grouping them by color, hoping that the order would soothe him; it didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been worried about people finding out who he was sleeping with. Was this the kind of fear that August had lived with for years? In that moment, he appreciated his family far more than he ever had.

Sure, things had been frequently difficult because of his magic, but they had never shunned him because of who he was. And his job had never been threatened because of who he loved.

“They won’t be angry.”