She’d been there, done that already, and she still had the bruises on her heart to prove it.
So it was a good thing she would probably never see Braden Garrett again. A very good thing.
Or so she thought until she glanced up to offer assistance to the patron who had stopped at her desk—and found herself looking at the subject of her preoccupation.
Her heart skipped a beat and then raced to catch up. She managed a smile, determined not to let him know how he affected her. “Good morning, Mr. Garrett. Are you looking for some reading material today?”
He shook his head. “Returning some smuggled merchandise.” He set a red engine on top of her desk. “Apparently Saige loves the trains more than I realized.”
It wasn’t the first toy to go missing from the playroom, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Thankfully, the “borrowed” items were usually returned by the embarrassed parents of the pint-size pickpockets when they were found.
“Universal toddler rules,” she acknowledged. “If it’s in my hand, it’s mine.”
“Sounds like the kind of wisdom that comes from experience,” he noted, his gaze shifting to her left hand. “Do you have kids?”
She shook her head and ignored the emptiness she felt inside whenever she thought about the family she might have had by now if she’d married Joel instead of giving him back his ring. “No,” she said lightly. “But I’ve spent enough time in the children’s section to have learned a lot.”
“What about a husband?” he prompted. “Fiancé? Boyfriend?”
No, no and no. But she kept those responses to herself, saying only, “Thank you for returning the train, Mr. Garrett.”
“I’ll interpret that as a no,” he said, with just the hint of a smile curving his lips.
And even that hint was potent enough to make her knees weak, which irritated her beyond reason. “You should interpret it as none of your business,” she told him.
Her blunt response had no effect on his smile. “Except that if you’d had a husband, fiancé or boyfriend, you would have said so,” he pointed out reasonably. “And since there’s no husband, fiancé or boyfriend, maybe you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee and apologize for whatever I did that put your back up.”
Before she could think of a response to that, Megan hurried up to the desk. “I’m sorry I got caught up with Mrs. Lynch and made you late for your break, Cassie.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I wanted to finish logging these new books into the system before I left the desk.”
“I can do that,” her coworker offered helpfully.
Cassie thanked Megan, though she was feeling anything but grateful. Because as much as she was desperate for a hit of caffeine, she suspected that Braden would tag along on her break and his presence would make her jittery for a different reason.
“I guess you’re free for that coffee, then?” he prompted.
“I’m going across the street for my break,” she confirmed, unlocking the bottom drawer of the desk to retrieve her purse. “And while I may not be a corporate executive, I can afford to buy my own coffee.”
“I’m sure you can,” he agreed. “But if I pay for it, you might feel obligated to sit down with me to drink it.”
And apparently her determination to remain unaffected was no match for his effortless charm, because she felt a smile tug at her own lips as she replied, “Only if there’s a brownie with the coffee.”
* * *
Growing up a Garrett in Charisma, Braden wasn’t accustomed to having to work so hard for a woman’s attention. And while he was curious about the reasons for Cassie’s reluctance to spend time with him, he decided to save the questions for later.
He pulled open the door of the Bean There Café and gestured for her to precede him. There were a few customers in line ahead of them at the counter, allowing him to peruse the pastry offerings in the display case while they waited. He ordered a lemon poppy-seed muffin and a large coffee, black; Cassie opted for a salted caramel brownie and a vanilla latte.
“How’s this?” he asked, gesturing to a couple of leather armchairs close together on one side of the fireplace, further isolated by a display of gift sets on the opposite side of the seating.
“Looks...cozy,” she said.
He grinned. “Too cozy?”
She narrowed her gaze, but he suspected that she wouldn’t turn away from the challenge. A suspicion that was proven correct when she sat in the chair closest to the fire.
The flickering flames provided light and warmth and the soft, comfy seating around the perimeter of the room provided a much more intimate atmosphere than the straight-back wooden chairs and square tables in the center. Braden relaxed into the leather seat beside Cassie and set his muffin on the small table between them.
“Are you going to let me apologize now?” he asked her.
She eyed him over the rim of her cup as she sipped. “What are you apologizing for?”
“Whatever I said or did to offend you.”
“You don’t even know, do you?” she asked, her tone a combination of amusement and exasperation.
“I’m afraid to guess,” he admitted. But he did know it had happened the previous morning, sometime after Baby Talk, because her demeanor toward him had shifted from warm to cool in about two seconds.
She shook her head and broke off a corner of her brownie. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t still be mad,” he pointed out.
“I’m not still mad.”
He lifted his brows.
“Okay, I’m still a little bit mad,” she acknowledged. “But it’s not really your fault—you didn’t do anything but speak out loud the same thoughts that too many people have about my work.”
“I’m still confused,” he admitted. “What did I say?”
“You asked if working at the library was my real job.”
He winced. “I assure you the question was more a reflection of my interest in learning about you than an opinion of your work,” he said. “And probably influenced by a lack of knowledge about what a librarian actually does.”
“My responsibilities are various and endless.”
“I’ll admit, I was surprised to see so many people at the library yesterday. I figured most everyone did their research and reading on their own tablets or computers these days.”
“To paraphrase Neil Gaiman, an internet search engine can find a hundred thousand answers—a librarian can help you find the right one.”
“My mother’s a big fan of his work,” Braden noted.
“I know,” she admitted. “Anytime we get a new book with his name on it, I put it aside for her.”
“She’s a fan of yours, too,” he said.
Her lips curved, and he felt that tug low in his belly again. There was just something about her smile—an innocent sensuality that got to him every time and made him want to be the reason for her happiness.
“Because I put aside the books she wants,” Cassie said again.
“I think there’s more to it than that,” he remarked. “How long have you known her?”
“As long as I’ve worked at CPL, which is twelve years.”
“Really?” He didn’t know if he was more surprised to learn that she’d worked