I grab most of them and help her right the table. “Here. All fixed.”
She moves to walk past me.
“Hey.” I grab her arm. “Look. I used to be in a pretty rough business, all right? That’s why I have a gun.”
She nods slowly. “It just surprised me is all.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I’m still getting used to small-town life. The gun is remnant of my old life, but it’s not for offense. Only defense. All right?”
I can tell she’s not a fan of guns, but she clears her throat. “That makes sense. And I guess as long as you’re safe with it, it’s fine.”
“I’m safe.” For her, I’m safe. For whatever piece of shit broke into the library, not so much.
“Okay. I believe you.” She lets out a deep exhale then glances at the door. “We’ve already got visitors.”
“I’ll get to work on the crafts. You do your thing. Okay? If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”
Her eyes soften, and she takes my hand, squeezing it. “Thanks. I really appreciate you helping.”
“Of course.” I’ve never deemed myself the helpful sort. Professional? Yes. Calculating? Yes. But I never work for free. With Liza, I find that I don’t mind, even if it means walking out of here with glitter in places glitter should never be.
Right as I sit down to work, my phone rings. Glancing up, I find Liza talking to an elderly patron, so I take the call and hurry to the back of the stacks.
“What?” I answer with a harsh tone.
“That’s how you speak to clients?” Mayor McGovern bites back. “I haven’t heard a damn thing from you. Give me the goods. Are they bribing the committee? What are they planning for this year? Tell me what you know!”
“Now’s not a good time.”
“It better be! I’m paying you good money to get me this information!”
“Calm the fuck down.” I peek toward the front desk and see Liza still chatting. “I’m on the job as we speak. I’ll have something for you tonight.”
“You’d better.”
I end the call and pocket my phone before returning to the craft table. Working off what Liza sent me, I start recreating the projects. Luckily, we still have all the same materials. Trying to mimic the child handwriting is the hardest part, but I find using my off-hand works wonders. I’m elbow-deep in glittery pipe cleaners when the library doors open and the sheriff strides in, his eyes on Liza.
“Hey, Clark.” She barely looks up and goes back to sorting some books on the counter.
“Howdy, Liza. Slow day? I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me at–” He stops talking when he sees me. “What in the holly is this?” He smirks.
I stand, craft bits coming off me in a small shower. “Liza already has lunch plans. With me.”
“With you, glitter fairy?” Clark snorts.
I couldn’t give two shits about being called the glitter fairy, but I do give a shit that he’s at the top of my list for suspects in the break-in.
“Yes, with the glitter fairy.” I give him a big grin. If he’s the one who left a jizz-o-gram on Liza’s door, I’ll cut his dick off and nail it to the town Christmas tree as an ornament.
12
LIZA
I swear everything the man does is sexy. At the top of the list today right behind him spending his day helping me is him not giving a shit what other men thought of him. Clark tried to poke at Crane because he was covered in glitter from making snowmen and snowflakes.
Crane did not give one shit what Clark thinks of him. If it had been Mick, it would have been a whole ordeal. Crane all but told Clark to fuck off, but in a very polite way. He might be getting the hang of this small-town thing already. Then he’d taken me to lunch and been great company, so much so that Eve was texting me that the whole town was abuzz.
“I’ve never seen someone multitask the way you do.” Crane leans up against my front desk. “Checking out books, reading, and talking to everyone while still setting up for the holiday party. You’re quite busy.”
“It’s not hard. I mean, maybe if I had a family at home with kids but it’s only Krampus at home waiting for me.” I pack up two of my binders so I can go over a few more details tonight. The whole auction idea Eve threw out there is something new I have to set up. Normally, it’s a lot of the same with a few changes here and there to shake things up. But this is a whole new concept that is going to take some planning.
“How does the competition work? Who even judges such a thing?” Crane asks.
I slide everything into one of the tote bags I have under the desk. “There’s a committee.” I can’t recall how many are on it. “They’ll pass through at some point. I’m not sure.”