Between the Stacks

Chapter 42

Wesley would be my manager.

Wesley, whose fingers had traced up the back of my thighs. Wesley, who had laughed into the crook of my neck. Wesley, who might be causing me to have Feelings.

He waved awkwardly from the back row. "I see this as more of a stop-gap," he said. "Just keeping the seat warm until Lakshmi returns." I was fairly sure he said more, because I saw his mouth moving, but all I could hear was a high-pitched screaming that seemed to emanate from the inside of my head.

He hadn't looked at me once. Matteo, on the other hand, was staring me down with such intensity that I thought I might simply melt into the floor. My future would be as a pile of Emma-shaped goo.

One of the student volunteers raised their hand. "Because we're having so much staff turnover, does this indicate that our branch will be the one to close?"

Bless the student and her fearlessness. I was wondering the same thing.

"Not necessarily," Lakshmi said. Each syllable was long and drawn-out. "We'll only know as the summer budget figures come in. We were able to generate funds through the conference, although at the end of the day, it's Katherine Jaworski's office who will decide."

Katherine Jaworski: the same grey-haired woman who had spoken to Wesley last week at the Mr. Oodles of Noodles event. She had likely been telling him about his recent promotion.

"Isn't it a conflict of interest to have an employee from another branch come here?" Melissa asked, not bothering to raise her hand. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the armrest of her wheelchair. "Isn't that a ripe opportunity for... sabotage?"

Wesley had the grace to blush. Melissa clearly hadn't forgiven Wesley for his sneakiness earlier in the summer.

"We're adults," Lakshmi said. "Quite simply, we're bringing in Wesley because he's had experience in the branch, and he's qualified for the role."

It occurred to me that I didn't know how long he'd worked within the Cherryhill library system. I'd been distracted by his jaw. And eyes. And the way he smiled.

It took every ounce of willpower to not bury my face in my hands and collapse in a heap.

I knew I should be mature about this. We should sit down, have a coffee, and talk about the conflict of interest and the stock market and the economy and whatever else adults talked about. It would all be very professional and above board.

But there was one problem: I didn't want to be professional. Not when I wanted to think about his bedroom and the books on his shelves and his photos on the wall.

I was, without a doubt, Completely Screwed.

After the meeting ended, Wesley was trapped in a conversation by the students (who either wanted to curry favor or flirt with him). Thanking the universe silently, I was able to sneak out without looking at him.

---

Only when I made it back to my desk did I think of the implications.

Was this even allowed? I logged into my computer and went to the library's internal website for employees. The graphic design was straight out of the early 2000s, complete with fuzzy graphics and bright neon colors that blasted my retinas. The search bar wasn't great, so I had to dig around for ten minutes to find what I was looking for: Policy on Personal Relationships.

I looked over my shoulder, as if I expected the FBI to hover there. No, this was Canada. We didn't have the FBI. I didn't even know who the equivalent would be. And if I Googled the Canada FBI equivalent I was sure to end up on a list somewhere.