Page 49 of Hottie on Her Shelf
On the bad days? Fitz likened it to being a mob boss, without all the shooting and decapitation and bribes, of course.
“So Derek’s his toadie?” Twisting around, she pulled an enormous red leather-bound Complete Works of Charles Dickens from a cart. “Like Uriah Heep in David Copperfield, or Iago in Othello.”
“Yes. Or, to be more topical, like Kissinger was to Nixon.”
Dropping the book with a thud that shook the entire table, Hallie clapped. “Ooh, excellent reference. I think you win that round.”
Damn it. There she went again. “Hallie, there doesn’t always have to be a winner and a loser with us. We can be equals.”
“I don’t think that would ever be possible. Even if you and I believe it, the whole town has you and your whole family on a pedestal high enough to touch the moon.”
Fitz had wanted to be an astronaut until he was twelve. That was the year they toured NASA and he learned about the possibility of astronauts wearing diapers in space. His career path pivoted immediately. “That’s fanciful of you.”
“Not entirely.” With a tug in the middle of yet another stack, she brandished a copy of The Right Stuff. “Couldn’t help it. Shelving puts so many ideas into my head. The course of my entire day can be changed depending on the books I handle.”
“You do live in the tiny house equivalent of a city. You should probably handle Our Town every day.”
“Mr. Mayor, you are quite well read.”
“I like books.” Then he did a neck swivel so slow that he heard each vertebrae crack as he looked around the big room, near to bursting with paperbacks and hardcovers. “Probably not as much as you, though.”
“It is about quality, not quantity.”
Fitz put a finger to his lips, shushed her dramatically, stretching to look at the door and the row of windows up at the ceiling. In a stage whisper, he asked, “Are you allowed to make a sexual innuendo in the library?”
Her pretty eyes with flecks of gold widened and held that way for a second. Then Hallie burst out laughing. Loudly.
“Pretty sure you can’t make noise in a library, either,” he drawled.
“Good thing I’m in charge and can do what I want.” From beneath half-lowered lids, she smoldered intensity at him. “Sound familiar, Your Mayorship?”
“Cut it out.”
“Couldn’t resist,” she shot back.
“Fair enough.” The knowledge that she was teasing, that Hallie didn’t actually believe that, made all the difference.
“We could easily sit here bantering all day.”
Yeah, he really could. Fitz had the feeling that’d be one of the best days of the year if it happened. Couldn’t say that, though, not after pushing himself on her last night. He dialed back his intensity.
“I can think of worse ways to pass a day.”
“I’ll bet the taxpayers who provide both of our salaries wouldn’t be thrilled, however. So why don’t you tell me why you popped by?”
Guess it was time. Time for the fun to end—potentially.
Fitz scraped his chair back out. Retrieved the paper bag he’d carted across town. “To bring you this.” He pulled out a round baking dish with a lid carved to look like an apple. “You left last night without getting your dessert.”
“Oh. Oh, Fitz. That truly wasn’t necessary.”
“In the overall breadth of your sweet tooth, no. But the blueberry crisp was an excuse to get me in here to do the necessary clearing of the air.”
She’d been in the middle of lifting the lid, already bent over to sniff at it. Hallie froze. “What?”
Why the surprise? Did she really think he was that much of an egotistical jerk to not apologize? He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know—make amends. Grovel. Humble myself in my wrongness and beg forgiveness.”
After a quick sniff that made her lashes flutter, she replaced the lid. “I don’t understand. You haven’t done anything wrong. You cooked me dinner.”
