Page 12 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Ana rapped her knuckles against the wood paneling that turned the booth into a semi-private compartment. “Like I said, tonight’s an emergency summit. There’s no point debating if it was a dumb idea to stay on the ballot. Or, rather, to have your name put on the ballot in the first place.” She glared at Megan who responded simply with a “what did I do” quirk of her pierced eyebrow. “Let’s talk through the viability of you as a candidate. See what we’ve got to work with.”
Randall cautiously raised a hand and waited until Ana nodded. “Is that a polite way of saying ‘see if she has a snowball’s chance in hell of pulling this off?’”
“Hey!” Okay. Maybe she preferred his usual cheerleader role to this blunt honesty. But before she could splutter her indignation at the phrasing, a male voice floated over the top of their booth. It was overly loud, catching their attention.
“Short answer? No.” A second behind his words, a head appeared. Followed by the tops of incredibly broad shoulders. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners in obvious amusement as he glanced at her, then her friends. Cheerful creases bracketed his mouth.
It was the mayor.
Hallie had thoughtshe couldn’t be more embarrassed than this morning when she’d accidentally overheard them dismissing her. Turned out she’d been wrong. Having the competition overhear her closest friends questioning her ability to win? That was indeed the lowest possible point.
She froze. What to do now?
She should go on the offensive. The mayor was, as of ten hours ago, officially her enemy.
No, she’d done that this morning. She should take the high road. Greet him magnanimously. Because he was a citizen of Swan Cove and thus just another potential constituent. An upstanding one with no current library fines (of course she’d checked immediately upon returning to work).
“Bar trivia’s on Mondays, buckaroo,” Ana said. “This is Thursday. Until then, you can keep your unsolicited answers to yourself.”
Hallie had never loved her friend more. They’d always been kindred spirits and had bonded over the love of the written word. Ana ran the town’s—or rather Montgomery Industries’—rare book shop.
Megan studiously did not look at the mayor. “Isn’t eavesdropping rude? If someone belongs to the yacht club and the country club and is the primary representative of our entire city, wouldn’t you expect them to have, I dunno, better manners?”
Not a hint of shame crossed his patrician features. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I’m sitting at the bar right behind your booth. And, well, you’re all pretty loud.”
That was probably accurate. They were worked up. But…oh, God…if the mayor heard them…who else had unintentionally overheard? Hallie wanted to pull a Wicked Witch of the West and melt into the floorboards.
Another man appeared next to the mayor. Hallie recognized his face, even if she couldn’t dredge up a name. She could pinpoint that he came in every two weeks to pick up the newest thrillers.
“Hey. I’m Everett. I’ll second that you were being loud. We’re generally decent guys. We weren’t trying to listen. But you’ve been talking smack about my friend here, so it’s hard to tune you out.”
Crap. Now she’d have to apologize.
Because Everett was cute, with horn-rimmed glasses, and a Henley taut across his pecs, Megan went straight into flirt-mode (which was her MO a good 98.4 percent of the time). “I’m Megan. And I don’t think I mind at all being noticed by you.”
OMG. A bar hookup was not the way to de-escalate the situation. Hallie had full faith in Megan’s powers of flirtation—but that didn’t make it appropriate. She wiped her hands and scooched out of the booth. “Mr. Mayor? May I talk to you? In private?”
The mayor looked over both shoulders. Then at her. “Will I need my security detail?”
Hallie’s stomach twisted into a knot. Yes, she’d been, well, aggressive this morning in her approach. But did he really think she was calling him out for a fight? To settle the election here and now, in an Irish pub with fiddles blaring from the speakers?
“No. Of course not,” she said swiftly as she rounded to meet him. “I would never disrespect the office of mayor or you personally with any physical attack. You can tell your security to stand down.”
He threw back his head and howled with laughter. “I’m mayor of Swan Cove. There’s no security. And I’ve got zero concern about you throwing down.”
That was a tad demeaning. Her inner feminist flared to life. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Hardly. Women can kick ass. Because you’re a librarian.”
Hallie noticed that her friends—and his—were following the exchange with avid attention. She pointed to the open door right off the bar. The private party room looked empty, and once she closed the door, nobody would even know they were in there.
As soon as the door shut behind them, the mayor held up his hands. “Don’t get in a lather that I’m insulting all librarians. I get the impression that you’re Type A. Rule-following. More apt to use words than action.”
“You’d be correct.”
“So, we’ve established you didn’t drag me back here to beat some sense into me.” He crossed his arms and half sat on the edge of a long, draped table. “What do you want from me, Ms. Scott?”
Now that it was just the two of them, it felt…arch to stand on ceremony with last names. Like she was trying too hard to prove a point. This wasn’t 1922. “Call me Hallie.”
