“Libby!” The hiss jolted her out of her thoughts and she whipped around.
“Yes, Mrs Bird?” She kept her voice low. Mrs Bird was aptly named. She wore slightly old-fashioned clothes on her tall, thin frame and arranged her gray hair in a neat bun at the back of her head.
In Laramie, the library where Libby had worked encouraged people to bring their tablets, laptops, ear-buds and cell phones. Sometimes kids even ran rampant around the aisles. No one would dare do any of those things in the Coldwater Springs library. Mrs Bird made sure that peace and quiet reigned. All day. Except for the melodious chimes of the self-checkout machine.
“The sheriff is here.” Mrs Bird frowned.
“What?”
“He hasn’t been in here for eleven months. Not since I fined him for having an overdue book.”
“I bet he didn’t like that.” Libby tried not to smirk. It seemed that even the sheriff had to obey the library rules.
“Be a dear and go see what he wants.” The older woman patted her bun. “I have to check on the mothers’ group next door and make sure they know about the new parenting books that arrived last week.”
Libby grimaced. She did not want to see Sheriff Jake Morgan. She had successfully - some of the time at least - kept thoughts of him at bay. Except at night, when images of his tall, muscular body and dark brown eyes invaded her dreams.
“Don’t think about that now,” she murmured to herself, walking slowly to the other side of the room. Be polite and professional, polite and professional, she chanted silently as she spied him standing in front of one of the shelves.
“May I help you, sheriff?” Keeping a neutral expression on her face was difficult when she stood this close to him. Why did he have to be so gruff and tough?
She took a calming breath. His scent of clean, fresh leather filled her senses. Why was she attracted to him? It just didn’t make sense.
“Just looking for something to read, Miss Grant.” He turned from the bookshelf. His hooded gaze swept over her, taking in her appearance. He stared at her for so long that Libby’s cheeks burned and she wondered if he was going to accuse her of stealing another car.
“Well, let me know if I can help.” Libby edged away.
“I will,” he murmured.
Walking back to the book trolley, she wondered at the soft tone of his last two words. That man was not attractive at all. Not when he suspected her of being a notorious con-artist. And a car thief.
Libby tried to keep her mind on her work, concentrating on placing books back correctly on the shelf. However, after working as an assistant librarian for the last three years, shelving books was something she could do in her sleep and she found herself thinking of him.
She fought the urge to peek around the end of the aisle. Was he still browsing the shelves? Or had he already left?
Libby wheeled the empty trolley back to the desk. The scolding chimes of the self-checkout machine reached her ears. She rounded the corner, ready to assist the patron to check out their books correctly. But when she reached the self-checkout, she saw the sheriff departing the library, a book under his arm.
She couldn’t see Mrs Bird anywhere. Libby took a deep breath. “Sheriff!” Hurrying after him, she managed to catch up with him at the library door.
He turned around to face her, an eyebrow raised in enquiry. “Yes, Miss Grant?”
Why did he have to be so formal all the time? Although she supposed being called Miss Grant was better than being called Alleged Con-Artist Libby Grant.
“Did you have any problems with the self-checkout machine?”
He scowled. “What do you mean?”
She tried not to flush at his scrutiny. “When a book isn’t checked out properly, the machine makes a warning sound. Mrs Bird said you haven’t been in here for a while, so I wondered if you were familiar with using the new machine.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said dismissively.
“I heard the warning chime, but not the chime for the book being checked out properly. May I see the book?”
He reluctantly handed her the popular forensic thriller. If she was wrong, she would look foolish. But if she was right…
Libby walked over to the librarian’s desk and scanned the book. Just as she thought. “I’m afraid you haven’t checked this book out properly, sheriff.”
He glowered. “I used the machine.”
“Let me show you.” So Jake Morgan didn’t know everything after all! He followed her to the machine. “First, I need your library card.”
He dug out his wallet and handed her his card. “Here.”
“Place your card under the scanner.” She pushed the card under the laser beam, her stomach fluttering at his nearness. Only an inch separated them. He dipped his head, his breath fanning her neck, and she shivered. The machine played a tune and snapped her attention back to the matter at hand. She cleared her throat. “Now place the book under the scanner, so it can read the barcode.”