“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me.”
He had hard green eyes and short, spiky red hair. Tattoos peeked out on the back of his hands from the sleeves of his white button-down. He had a sheepish smile, an expensive-looking watch, and a gold chain around his neck.
There was something strange about the way he was looking at me.
Not that it was unusual. Anyone who had had the misfortune of meeting Tina generally needed a while to adjust to the whole twin thing.
“How can I help?” I asked with a smile.
He tapped the closed laptop under his arm. “I’m looking for someone who can do a little light tech support. This darn thing stopped recognizing my wireless mouse and reading flash drives. Know anyone who can help?”
His eye contact was intense, and it made me a little uncomfortable.
“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be me,” I joked with a forced laugh.
“Me either. My wife’s usually my go-to for stuff like this. But she’s on a business trip, and I can’t wait until she gets back,” he explained. “I just need someone to help me out. They don’t have to be a professional or anything. I’d even be willing to pay a kid.”
Something was off. Maybe I was just hungry. Or maybe my Code Red was coming up. Or maybe this guy stomped litters of kittens for a hobby, and my kinship guardian intuition was reacting.
The only person I knew who fit the bill was Waylay. And I wasn’t about to let someone who gave me the heebie-jeebies anywhere near her.
I flashed him a smile a few degrees warmer than perfunctory. “Gosh. You know what? I’m new in town and I’m just getting my bearings. I don’t know anyone off the top of my head, but if you give me a phone number or email I’ll reach out as soon as I find a resource.”
His index and middle fingers on his left hand drummed lightly on the lid of his laptop. One two. One two. One two.
For some reason, I found myself holding my breath.
“You know what? That would be great,” he said with a warm grin. “Got a pen?”
Relieved, I pushed a Knockemout Public Library notepad across the desk to him and held out a pen. “Here you go.” Our fingers brushed when he took it, and he held my gaze for a beat too long.
Then he smiled again and bent to scrawl a number on the pad. “Name’s Flint,” he said, tapping the pen over his name for emphasis. His eyes skimmed over my name tag. “Naomi.”
I did not like the way he said my name as if he knew me, as if he were already intimately familiar with me.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone to help,” I croaked.
He nodded. “Great. Sooner the better.” Flint picked up the laptop and gave me a once-over. He tossed me a salute. “Later, Naomi.”
“Good-bye.”
I watched him stroll to the stairs. It took me an entire minute to figure out what was bothering me. It was his hands. Specifically, his left hand, which hadn’t sported a wedding ring.
I was just being paranoid. Maybe it was a sign that I was getting better at this guardian thing. I brushed the encounter aside and h
eaded into my tiny office to add Local IT Support to the running list of questions I had for Sloane.
The woman might have been pixie-sized, but she certainly had big ideas about how to expand the library’s services to the community. It was both exciting and interesting to be part of something that was so focused on helping people.
A shadow in my doorway caught my eye.
I jumped and slapped a hand to my chest. “Crap on a cracker, Knox. You scared the hell out of me!”
He leaned against the doorjamb and quirked an eyebrow. “Baby, I don’t wanna tell you how to do your job or anything, but aren’t you supposed to not yell in a library?”
THIRTY-TWO
LUNCH AND A WARNING