“Do not use language like that in front of your daughter,” Julia instantly reprimanded her.
“It’s just a word. I have no trouble with my daughter using whatever words she wants to express herself.”
“Well, I do, so stuff it.”
“My big sister has such a dirty mouth.” Skye ducked as a Pop-Tart sailed through the air at her. “And she throws like a girl.”
“First a riot out front and now a cat fight.” Luke rubbed his hands with anticipation. “Is this a great day or what?”
“Where’s the cat?” Toni demanded.
The little girl’s question returned some semblance of sanity to Julia. The red mist was lifting from her vision. No way she was wasting another Pop-Tart on her sister.
She was a librarian. An information professional. She could leap tall mountains of data in a single bound and answer reference questions on everything from algebra to zoology.
The bottom line was that she could kick butt as well as the next bibliophile. Probably even better.
Too bad she wasn’t wearing those Librarians Have Tighter Buns briefs Pam had given her last Christmas.
It didn’t matter. She’d go out there and set these idiots straight.
She just had to think of something brilliant to say.
Something both charming and decisive, powerful and persuasive.
Piece of cake.
Note to self: You rock!
Second note to self: Restock Pop-Tarts ASAP.
Taking the doorknob firmly in her hand, she pulled the back door open and stepped outside.
Several hours later, Julia was in the mini-mart, frantically filling her shopping basket with boxes of Frosted Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tarts.
Her intervention with the media had
not
gone well. Not at all.
Just thinking about it made her toss in a box of chocolate donuts and a package of Oreos.
Instead of calming the crowd down, she’d seemed to just get them riled up even more. Not that she could really get them or the reporters to listen to her in the first place. Her sound bites were “too boring” one had proclaimed before ordering, “Go back to the babe with the big hair.”
Okay, so maybe citing llama statistics and history hadn’t been the right tactic to use. No one seemed to care about the connection between William Randolph Hearst and llamas. They were completely indifferent to the fact that the animals were originally domesticated more than six thousand years ago.
Julia had returned to work for the remainder of the afternoon, hiding out in the stacks doing weeding, removing books from the collection that weren’t being circulated. She hated doing that. But she hated dealing with her own failure to handle the llama issue even more. Then she’d come here for food. Comfort food.
Julia paused in front of a display of Hostess Twinkies. How much was too much? Should she . . . ?
You bet.
Into the basket went three Twinkie packages.
“Julia, I’m so glad I found you.” Pam waved at her from the healthful section of the store, where the fresh vegetable and fruit items were stacked. “I just saw you on TV.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to binge eat and pig out.” Unfortunately, it appeared that the only place she could do that was in her car.
How had her life ended up here? With her in the mini-mart, hoarding junk food, and forced to retreat to her white Honda Accord for a little peace and quiet?
That’s why she’d come to Serenity Falls. For the peace and quiet.
Where had it gone? It seemed to have evaporated the moment her family arrived in town. Nothing had been the same since then.
Or maybe it had started even earlier, when Luke had rolled up on his Harley and eyed her the way a football fan would eye a big screen TV before Super Bowl Sunday. With lust in his heart.
Julia had to regain control somehow. And soon. Hopefully the sugar binge would help her cope and come up with a plan. She always felt better when she had a plan.
Two hours and half a dozen Pop-Tarts later, she was still struggling to work out a coherent course of action as she sat cross-legged on Pam’s comfy couch. No wacky relatives here at her friend’s house. Instead, there were cheerful floral slipcovers and warm oak antiques, lending the place its English cottage style and charm.
She and Pam had finished off a good portion of an excellent Pinot Noir over a heated discussion of the flaws of the male population and whether or not the plumber or the gardener was the hotter guy on
Desperate Housewives
. All very important issues.
“Okay, how about this one,” Pam said. “The future of the world depends on you having sex with the last man on Earth—Tommy Lee or Ozzy Osbourne?”
Julia frowned. “Where do you come up with these questions?
Pam wagged a finger at her. “You’re avoiding the topic.”
“The world can blow up for all I care. No way I’m getting down and dirty with either one of those two.”
“I’m talking worse-case scenario.”
“No kidding.” Julia waved half a Twinkie at her. “And no thanks, I’ve already got a worse-case scenario on my hands. I mean, where did Sue Ellen come up with this idea about the llamas?”
Pam took a sip of wine. “Who knows where she comes up with anything or why she does the things she does? She grew up in Rock Creek.”
“So?”
Pam shrugged. “So I’m just saying . . .”
“What is it about Rock Creek and Serenity Falls?”
“You’ve lived here several years. You know how things are. The two towns are very competitive and not at all alike.”
“What’s so bad about Rock Creek?”
“It’s just not Serenity Falls. But getting back to Sue Ellen, she’s someone who craves attention, and this has certainly given it to her.”
“Why couldn’t she have picked someone else’s animals to have a vision about?”
“I recently heard about a farmer who had pig with the number of his favorite NASCAR driver on it. He was just born that way. The pig, not the farmer.”
“Or how about Mrs. Selznick’s dog Terminator? Why not pick the Terminator? Why me?”
Pam grinned. “Just lucky I guess.”
Julia sipped her wine. “Did I tell you that I threw a Pop-Tart at my sister?”
“You did mention it, yes.”
“That’s not like me.”
“I know,” Pam noted solemnly. “You value your Pop-Tarts.”
“And my self-control.”
“I hear you.” Pam gave her a reassuring hug. “Tomorrow will be a better day, you’ll see.”
What Julia saw the next morning was a
Good Morning America
truck outside.
Could things get any worse?
Apparently they could, because she found a nun outside her back door. A nun with an attitude. And a microphone in front of her.
What now? Had she been called in to bless the llamas? To condemn them all as blasphemers? What?
“It’s a shame that people with nothing better to do make up this kind of story,” the nun was saying. “Especially at this time of year.”
“You don’t think it’s a miracle then, Sister Mary?” the reporter asked.
The nun shook her head. “A miracle is a single mom who works two jobs to care for her kids and still help them with their homework at night. A miracle is a child donating all the money in their piggy bank to help victims of Hurricane Katrina. That’s where you’ll find the hand and the face of God. Not on the side of a llama.”
The gathered crowd broke out into spontaneous applause, with one or two wiping tears from their eyes. Or maybe it was the bitter cold getting to them.
“There you have it.” The reporter smiled into the camera. “Is that the final word from here in Serenity Falls? Only time will tell. This is Leslie Burbank reporting.”
Five minutes later a beaming Walt approached her. “Isn’t this great? Our town featured on
Good Morning America
.”
Julia frowned at him. “Last night you were appalled by all this attention.”
“That was before the
Late Show With David Letterman
called me. Can you believe it? David Letterman! I’ve been a fan for years. He wants the llamas.”
“Too bad,” Angel wrapped one of her scarves around her neck with agitated emphasis. “He can’t have them.”
“But this is a great chance . . .” Walt sputtered.
Angel stood her ground. “Forget about it.”
“Whose idea was it to call in Sister Mary?” Julia asked. “That was brilliant.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Walt preened. “She stopped things from getting too out of hand. As I said yesterday, we certainly don’t want to be known as outlandish. But standing out from the crowd, putting our name on the map, appearing on the
Late Show
—that’s not a bad thing.”
“Walt had nothing to do with me being here,” Sister Mary said as she joined them. “Luke was the one who called me.”
“Luke?” Julia couldn’t hide her surprise.
“That’s right.”
Walt frowned. “Since when have you and Luke been so close?”
“Oh get over yourself, Walter,” Sister Mary was clearly aggravated with him.
He looked affronted. “All I did was ask a simple question.”
“With a lot of innuendo behind it. Don’t you have something better to do than stand around taking credit for things you didn’t do?”
“No.” Walt’s face turned red as he belatedly realized what he’d just said. “I mean, of course I do. And I’m going to go do them right now.”
“Smart move,” Sister Mary said. “I’ve got to be moving along as well.”
“I’m going to go help Sister Mary serve meals to the needy in Rock Creek,” Angel told Julia.
“I have to work today,” Julia said apologetically.
“I understand.” Sister Mary patted her hand. “I believe there’s someone right here in Serenity Falls who needs you more than he lets on.”
Julia still had an hour before she had to be at the library so she had time to swing by Maguire’s to see Luke. She had so many questions. What had Sister Mary meant? Why had Luke called her in?
Maguire’s appeared to be closed, which she should have realized because they were only open for lunch and dinner. A sign by the door listed their hours as noon to eleven p.m., but she saw someone moving around inside.
She tested the door. It was open.
“Hello?” she called out.
“What do you want?” The irritated question came from Tyler, who was opening a can of paint.
“I was looking for Luke.”
“He’s upstairs.” Tyler jerked a thumb toward a doorway at the back of the bar.
Julia walked through the open door and up the flight of scuffed wooden steps. The door at the top was slightly ajar.
She knocked, which pushed the door wide open, revealing Luke working out in gym shorts and no shirt in front of a punching bag.
She just stood there, frozen, fiercely reminding herself that drooling over a guy was so tacky. But she was only human, and he was pure muscle packed into a powerful package—the hardened ridges of his chest and six-pack abs. The sheer physical impact of him was enough to take her breath away.
As if sensing her presence, he suddenly swiveled to face her—a man ready to confront danger. Was that from his days as a Marine? Or was there another reason for his response?
“Sorry.” She laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Tyler told me you were up here and . . .” She had to stop to draw in air. “Uh, I can come back later.”
“I wouldn’t think a woman who throws Pop-Tarts at her sister would be afraid of a guy and his punching bag.”
“I’m not afraid. And don’t leave out facing the maddening hordes of the press.”
“Right.”
“Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Are you gonna get riled up?”
“What?”
“Because if you’re gonna get riled up, you might as well put one of these on.” He unlaced a boxing glove. “Here, give me your hand. These will probably be way too big on you, but it’ll give you the idea . . .” He bent his head to fasten the glove on her hand. As he did so, she noticed the way his dark hair covered his nape. She also noticed he was tanned all over. Then he strolled back to the punching bag and braced it against his hip and shoulder. “Okay, come on, take a swing or two.”
“No, I . . .”
“Pretend the bag is one of those reporters. Or Sue Ellen . . . Whoa . . .” He took a step back at the unexpected force of her punch. “Hold on there, tiger. Keep your wrists straight.” He gave her a few more tips ending with, “Aim
through
the bag, not at it.”
“That sounds like Zen boxing.” She took his suggestions, however. They worked.
“I gotta tell you,” Luke admitted with a wicked grin, “there’s something about a librarian and a punching bag that makes me hot.”
“You were hot when I got here.”
Right. Why not just tell him you want to have sex with him?
“I mean you were working up a sweat . . . Yes, well, uh, I really must be going now.”
“Wait a second. You never told me why you came here in the first place.”
“Oh. I wanted to thank you for sending Sister Mary over to handle the situation at my house. The one with the llamas, I mean.”
“What makes you think I did that?”
“She said you called her.”
“God save me from chatty nuns,” Luke muttered.
“Well,
you
saved me. That was nice of you. Why did you do it?”
“Simple. Because I want to have sex with you.”
Chapter Seven
Julia
blinked at him. “Yes, well . . .”
Brilliant. That was a brilliant, totally bumbling response.
“Yes, you want to have sex with me, too? Great. Let’s get started.”
She put her hand out, forgetting for a moment that she still had the boxing glove on it. Which meant it accidentally rammed into Luke’s stomach.
The air left his body with a rush. Damn. Sucker-punched by a librarian. It was humiliating.