C5 Livia

“It happened again?” Megan half asks, half exclaims.

“Yep,” I stage whisper. The children’s section of the library is quiet tonight, but this is the kind of conversation that would be particularly bad if an overprotective parent overheard. “Watching a Logan O’Toole video. This time I caught the guy in the act.”

“You mean, he was actually—?” She holds up her hand to make sure no patrons can see her and makes a motion as though she’s jerking off.

I nod. It’s the third time in a month I’ve caught someone using the library computers for VPU—Very Personal Use—and though I should be used to it by now, I still continue to be astonished every time.

“What did you say?” Megan’s eyes are wide. So far this has been the only bit of excitement on an otherwise slow night. As the children’s specialist, she doesn’t generally have to deal with the VPUs anyway, which makes the tale extra enthralling. She did, however, once have a flasher—an old man in a trench coat, stocking cap, and white knee socks who loosened his belt in the middle of a story time reading of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?

“Trust me,” Megan says every time she recounts the story, “Brown Bear didn’t see much.”

Though I’ve seen many VPUs in my day, tonight has been the first time I’ve actually caught a man with his Personal Item in hand. I’m still a bit stunned, but I think I did well in the moment. “I told him, ‘Sir, these computers are for public use and the viewing of pornography is strictly prohibited. Please kindly log off and leave the library.’ Then I handed him a box of Kleenex and walked away.”

Megan laughs, clapping her hand over her mouth when she realizes she’s been a tad too loud. “Lysol that computer down. Then spray it with bleach. And tell me which one it is so I can make sure to never use it myself.”

“It doesn’t matter if I tell you which one it is. They’ve all been used for that purpose at some point, I’m sure! Men are disgusting!”

I lean across her desk and prop my chin up with my hand. I’m still getting to know her, but I’ve already learned a few things about her. I’ve met her husband and two boys a couple of times, and I’ve heard her mention her only sibling is a brother. “You’re surrounded by them. How do you manage with all that testosterone?”

She shrugs as she goes back to cutting out shapes from colored paper for an upcoming children’s program. “I grew up with just my Pop and my brother. Guys are all I know.” She cocks her head and looks at me. “Do you really hate men that much?”

I stand up, affronted. “I don’t hate men at all! I don’t hate kangaroos either, but I’d probably have better luck at getting one to stick around.”

“That’s a stupid analogy. Where the hell are you going to find a kangaroo in Kansas? You just haven’t found the right guy yet. The right guy will stick around. Look at Phil.”

She’s missing the point, which is that it would be just as hard to find a decent man as it would be to find a kangaroo. It’s why I’ve stopped looking.

It’s a hard point to explain without sounding like a quitter. Or asexual.

But I like Megan, so I try anyway. “You didn’t know Phil was the right guy until you gave him a chance to be the wrong guy, did you?”

She pauses her cutting, and for a moment I worry she’s going to tell me she knew it was love at first sight. After a beat, she says, “I guess not. No.”

“Right,” I say, as though I’ve just gotten a Bingo. “And I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to not know. I don’t want the uncertainty part. I’m done giving chances.”

She opens her mouth, and I sense a rebuttal coming, but I don’t need to hear it. I’ve made up my mind on this. So I jump in before she gets the chance. “Look. I’ve had three serious boyfriends. Not as many as some, but enough to learn that relationships are like playing roulette—odds are, the ball isn’t going to land on your number. You got lucky with Phil. But how many times did the ball land somewhere else before Phil landed on you?”

She doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “I don’t know. Phil landed on me pretty quickly.”

I run two fingers over my forehead and sigh. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant,” she huffs. “That’s how life works, Liv. You don’t get anything good without risk.”

I can tell by her tone that she’s annoyed with me, and I hate it when people are annoyed with me. So much that, if I hadn’t just turned twenty-nine, I’d tell her she was right (even though she clearly isn’t, in my case.)

But since I am now on the path to death, I feel bolder about the things I believe in and this point is one I believe in particularly strongly. “I prefer living without that heartache, thank you very much. I like the safety zone. Maybe the returns aren’t as exciting, but I know what I’m getting.”

Megan’s jaw tightens into a frown. “Let me guess—you don’t like going to Vegas either.”

“Ew. No.” I shudder.

She shakes her head, unable to solve the mystery that is me. “Well, if you’re happy in your career, happy in your home, and you don’t want a man, I don’t know what you’re missing. Maybe you need a dog.”

Her eyes light up, and I turn to follow her line of vision and see Keon, Megan’s oldest son running toward us. Behind him, Josiah, her youngest, toddles after his brother. He barely manages to cross the distance without tripping over his feet, his stuffed cow flapping at his side as he waves his arms for balance, and my chest fills and tightens with the overwhelming cuteness. Is this what they mean by ovaries exploding?

“Yeah, something like that,” I reply, with no intention of getting a dog. But something. For sure.

Josiah coos behind his binky as he nears his mom, and I’m grinning ear-to-ear when my eyes casually drift to meet those of the man who is following behind the boys. I’d expected it to be Phil, and so I’m surprised when it’s not.

Then I’m shocked when I realize who it is instead.

Officer Panty-Thief Kelly.

Officer I’m-Sexy-in-Blue-Jeans-Too Kelly.

Officer I’m-Not-Wearing-My-Sunglasses-and-Now-You-Must-Drown-in-My-Eyes Kelly. His blue, blue eyes. They’re pools of cobalt, and I forget to blink when I look into them. Forget how to breathe. Forget how to look away.

Now this is what they mean by ovaries exploding. Mine are exploding. They’ve exploded. Kaboom. His manly aura has sent signals to my baby-makers and caused instant combustion. That’s how hot this man is. And he’s not even in his uniform.

Imagine him not in anything at all…

Bad idea, bad idea. My knees buckle, and I have to grip the counter. I will him into his clothes again in my mind, but not before imagining the washboard abs he’s barely hiding under that tight T-shirt.

Oh God. I’m woozy. Too woozy to even question why he’s here.

Thank god for Megan.

“Let me guess,” she says, gesturing with her scissors toward the diaper bag that I now notice is slung over Officer Kelly’s shoulder. “Phil forgot to pack something.” However impossible, she seems completely unaffected by the cop’s magic manliness and super-blue death pools.

Also, she’s familiar with him. Which is a good thing since it seems he’s the one who brought her kids.

I’m not usually this slow. It’s just. That body. That beard. Those eyes.

Speaking of those eyes...they dart over in my direction, sending sparks shooting like fireworks throughout my body, then return to Megan. “No, everything’s there. Kids wanted to pick out a book.” He picks up Josiah who goes easily into the cop’s arms. “Didn’t we, buddy?”

Josiah grins and makes an mmm sound behind his binky, kicking excitedly.

“Unca Chase pulled us in the wagon,” Keon says, tip-toeing so he can see over the edge of the reference desk. “He said we can fill it with all the books!”

“Only five each!” Megan says in a rush. “Which is plenty!”

“Aw, that’s hardly any,” Officer Kelly says, triggering another elated burst from Josiah.

Keon mimics the man. “That’s hardly any.”

Megan seems about to argue but then glances down at her little boy’s anticipating face. “Yeah, well if any of them get lost, it’s on you,” she says threateningly to the cop.

And all I can think is how insane it is that a woman can talk to such a gorgeous man—let alone threaten him—when I can barely stand in his presence, especially now that he’s cuddling and cooing at these kids like he’s shooting one of those charity calendars where the hot cops model with adorable children and he’s so freaking hot, and ah, fuck. There go my ovaries again.

I’d thought about him several times in the day since I’d seen him. Not that I’d meant to think about him, but he’d been attractive, and sometimes attractive things can get stuck in the brain the same way a catchy tune can. At least that’s what I’d been telling myself.

Problem was, I hadn’t been remembering him properly. I’d remembered him hot, but not this hot. I hadn’t known about the blue eyes and the broad forehead he hid under his cap. I hadn’t realized his pecs were this toned underneath his protective vest. I hadn’t remembered his perfectly sculpted chestnut hair or the black ink that peeked out under the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“How about we compromise? How high can you count, Keon?” the gorgeous man asks.

“Ten!” Keon says, immediately demonstrating his counting skills by rushing through the numbers at high speed.

“Great. Then pick out ten for you and ten for Josiah. Got it?”

Keon is already running off toward the picture books. The cop puts Josiah on the ground, and my lips break automatically into another smile as I watch him wobble happily after his brother.

When I move my attention away from the kids, I find the cop’s eyes waiting for me. My heart skips a beat. Or ten. I’d have Keon count if he hadn’t just run off.

“Officer Kelly,” I say in greeting. Because I don’t know what else to say. Because I have to say something. I can’t just stand here, combusting under his gaze.

He scans the length of me, slowly, burning every inch of my skin before returning to my eyes. “Ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am!” I snap, as much upset about the way he makes my belly tighten and my thighs clench as I am about the way he continues to address me. “I’m twenty-nine. I am not a ma’am yet.”

“Though Livia believes that thirty is death,” Megan snickers, “so you can probably call her ma’am after that.”

I press my lips together and pretend I’m not scratching her eyes out in my head.

Suddenly her brows shoot up. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“We don’t,” I say quickly, eager for her to know that I most certainly do not know this very fine-looking man.

She studies me, then Officer Kelly. “Right.” She drags the word out, and I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but whatever it is, it’s not good.

“Ms. Ward was a witness at an incident yesterday,” Officer Kelly explains, his eyes never moving from mine.

“Ah, so you haven’t been properly introduced.” With scissors still in hand, she points first to me while looking at the cop. “This is Livia. She works upstairs with the grown-ups and the teens, and she’s cool, so don’t be a dick.” Sternly, she adds, “You know what I mean.”

Then she points to the cop and turns her attention to me. “Chase is my big brother. His nobleness comes off as stern and overprotective sometimes, but he’s really a teddy bear.”

He scowls. “I’m not. I’m a warrior.”

“You wish.” She rolls her eyes and returns to cutting out the star that has been dangling from her paper for the past several minutes.

Chase—even his name is sexy—glances toward his nephews, checking up on them, then returns his heated gaze to me.

And I’m just standing here. And no one’s saying anything. So there’s awkward silence.

At least I consider it awkward because, as far as I’m concerned, any silence between strangers is awkward. Especially when the stranger is six feet of pure sex and it’s oozing off of him like a contagion that I’m afraid I’m about to catch—if I haven’t gotten it already— and when I do, there’s every chance I’ll jump on top of the counter behind me, spread my legs, and beg him to come on in.

So obviously I can’t let the silence continue.

I put on a smile that exudes more confidence than I feel and turn to my friend. “Megan, you never told me your brother was a hot.” Oh my God. I didn’t just say that.

But I totally did. My face is heated with embarrassment. “A cop! I meant a cop.”

I can’t look directly at him, but I catch him out of the corner of my eye, grinning like he won the lottery.

Jesus, his grin is like a superpower. I’m instantly wet.

Okay, I was wet before. I have to be honest.

“I guess it hasn’t come up in conversation,” Megan says, as though she didn’t notice my blunder. She sets down her scissors and stares at me point blank. “And of course he’s hot. He’s related to me.”

I didn’t think my blush could deepen, but apparently it can because now I feel it down to my toes.

And that’s my cue to leave.

“Well, look at that,” I squint at the clock on her computer. “My break is over. I have to get back upstairs. Nice meeting you. Again. Officer Kelly. Chase.” It’s strange saying his name and yet I want to say it over and over. I want to scream it.

I want him to give me a reason to scream it.

What am I thinking? What am I thinking? I meant all those things I said to Megan.

But, God, look at him…

He cranes his neck to check up on the boys who are hidden in between the stacks, and my uterus aches. He’s so damn good with them. He’s just so damn...good.

I sigh and, with his attention elsewhere, slip around the children’s reference desk, and make a quick escape toward the elevator.