Page 30 of Hottie on Her Shelf
Chapter Seven
Fitz scrolled through the gag gift site…for three whole seconds before stopping on the perfect present. A whoopee cushion, classic for a reason.
He bought end-of-season presents for all the kids on the lacrosse team he coached—“present” was more palatable to him than “participation trophy.” Mason, the clown of the team, would appreciate the hell out of this. His parents, not so much, but that was not Fitz’s problem.
That only left fifteen kids to go…
Yeah, he’d need caffeine to finish this. Matching the personality traits of ten-year-olds to gifts required fully revved brain cells. And it mattered to Fitz that he nailed each one. Kids needed, deserved, to have their individuality recognized. He’d head for the lunchroom, grab a soda, and come back to it.
One step out of his office, though, and he saw the librarian coming up the stairs. Engage the enemy? Or retreat and lock his door? Damn it, if they were going to go another round, Fitz really needed that caffeine.
“Mr. Mayor.” Hallie raised an arm to flag him down. “Do you have a moment?”
It was after five. Nobody else would be coming out of an office to save him. Fitz really needed to stop hanging out late at city hall. Too easy to be ambushed.
“Depends on what you want to do with said moment. If you’re going to accuse me again of flirting to somehow distract you from running a solid campaign, then no. I’m fresh out of time and fucks to give.”
Hallie’s cheeks turned a dull red. “I deserved that. I’m sorry.”
Sounded genuine. He’d take it. Holding grudges was never worth it. Hands in pockets, Fitz nodded. “Thanks.”
“For the sake of my mental state, will you answer a question?”
That was a weighted approach. No polite way to blow her off now. “Is this part of the moment you want?”
“No. We’ll call it a sidebar.”
“Then follow me.” He led her into the room with its single table and plastic chairs. One vending machine was half chips and half candy. The other was all soda. A yoga instructor (mid-life fling for one of the council members) had lobbied hard to swap the soda for all waters. They’d even held a poll. Not a single person who worked in the building voted in favor of making the switch.
And then the wife had found out about the fling, so they didn’t have to worry about their caffeine disappearing anymore. Fitz fed in a dollar. “Want anything? It’s on me—unless you’d then accuse me of trying to bribe you into losing the race.”
“I deserved that one, too, but no more. And no, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He popped the tab. Leaned against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles. Hallie wore another take on her librarian uniform: longish brown skirt, long-sleeved ivory top, and…sneakers? Same as the day she’d accosted him under the stairs. “What’s with the sneakers?”
“Oh. I walked here. I try to walk everywhere I can. Hard to do in heels, so I change into these. I know it looks silly.”
A lot less silly than the women who tottered around town on fashionable stilts, canted forward and with one hand out for stability as soon as they got within inches of a wall or table or car.
“Makes sense. If I had to wear heels, I’d write a line item into the city budget to be carried around in a palanquin like an ancient Indian prince.” The raise of her right eyebrow was slight, but Fitz didn’t miss it. “You’re surprised I know what a palanquin is?”
Her lips pursed. They were slicked in a deep brown that almost matched her skirt. Like she’d been drinking wine and chocolate. Together. “If I say yes, will you be insulted?”
“A little. You don’t own the corner in this town on having knowledge.” Although if Hallie walked into his office and saw the whoopee cushion currently on his monitor, he’d have to jump off his high horse.
“You’re right.”
“And you’re being surprisingly agreeable. It makes me nervous.” After a long sip during which Hallie said nothing, Fitz decided to throw her a bone. “My college roommate watched Bollywood movies. Hari would binge them right before going home on vacation so that he could pick them apart with his mom. I kept him company. Maybe—though I’ll deny it if Hari’s mom shows up—we made a drinking game out of them.”
“Ah. Fun.” She could not have sounded more disinterested. Hallie swiped her fingertips back and forth over the edge of the bright orange molded plastic chair. Her gaze stayed fixed down on…the cookie crumbs on the table? “Back to my question. When we were at the pub, something…almost happened. I think the not knowing for sure is what made me freak out on you. Did you almost kiss me?”
No wonder she wouldn’t look at him. It was one hell of a question. Fitz would label that more than a sidebar. It was a potential minefield. He didn’t know Hallie well enough to predict what would set her off. He just knew that he had an innate ability to do so.
Because this was just the two of them, and not a public event or, God forbid, a campaign event, Fitz stuck with his go-to: the truth. “Yeah. I was tempted to kiss you. Not to throw you off balance as a candidate, but because you’re interesting. Unexpected. And pretty. More than enough reasons, in my book, to take a shot.”
Her eyelids flashed wide. Those whiskey-brown eyes locked onto his. “I…did not expect any of those.”
Fitz enjoyed catching her off guard. And pushed the advantage. “Did you almost kiss me back?”
