The Mighty Quinns: Mac

The woman smiled. “She does.”

“Is she working today?”

“Yes, she’s downstairs in our archives cataloguing some items that were bequeathed to the library last week.”

Mac took the form. “I’ll just go get her signature and be right back.”

“Down the hall and through the door on the right, then down the stairs,” the librarian said.

As he followed the directions, Mac felt an odd rush of anticipation. Women had always been a commodity in his life. Though he appreciated each for their individual attributes, Mac found it difficult to make any long-lasting connections.

When the time was right, he made sure he was the one who walked away first. There had been a few women who had been difficult to leave, but he could never truly believe they had any kind of future together. Without trust, any deeper emotions were impossible.

He already knew ending things with Emma would be painful. He was already obsessed with her. She was unique, intriguing, wildly sexy and smart—a deadly combination. It would take a careful approach to charm her, a disciplined plan to hold her and every ounce of his determination to leave her.

The basement of the library was dark and musty and he followed the sound of music through the rows of shelves and storage cabinets. Finally, he reached a central area of tables illuminated by florescent lights. Mac stood in the shadows and observed her for a moment, taking in the scene in greater detail.

An old gramophone sat on one end of the table and it played a classical piece that sounded like a Mozart string quartet. Emma was seated with her back to him, her legs tucked up beneath her, her attention fixed on a paper she was reading.

The dark waves of her hair fell around her face and his fingers twitched as he imagined how it would feel to smooth a curl from her temple and tuck it behind her ear. He’d touched her once, when he’d held her hand, but it hadn’t been enough.

He’d known a lot of women whom he’d considered beautiful, Mac mused. But now, he realized that they hadn’t really been beautiful at all. They’d made themselves up to reflect what society considered beautiful—blond hair, full lips, high cheekbones, striking eyes.

As he looked at Emma, he saw something simpler, much more pure. There was no need for paint or artifice. It was all there in its natural form. A shiver skittered through his body and his breath caught in his throat.

Emma jumped, then turned around in her chair to find him watching her. She scrambled to her feet, dropping the letter on the table and struggling with the chair. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Mac said.

“You did! Why are you here?”

He held up the application for a library card. “I need you to sign this. I wanted to get a card but I don’t have the proper identification with me. If you vouch for me, they’ll give me one.”

“But I don’t know you.”

He grinned. “Sure you do. I’m the guy who’s working for Buddy while he recovers from his surgery.”

“And that’s all I know. That’s not enough to get you a library card. Where do you live?”

“Right now, I’m staying out at the hangar. But I’ve been trying to find a place in town.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but it sounded good. He had a cot, a bathroom and a makeshift kitchen at the hangar. It was rent-free and enough to meet his needs.

“But where do you come from? Where do you live when you’re not here?”

Mac wished that he had a better story to tell her, but he’d accepted the reality of his life long ago. “The last time I had a permanent address was the day before my eighteenth birthday. That was nearly ten years ago. I suppose I could give you that address.”

“Where was that?”

“Boulder, Colorado. It’s where my foster parents live. At least it was. I haven’t talked to them since I left, so they might have moved.”

She gave him a grudging smile, then held out her hand. Emma grabbed the paper and signed the bottom. “Raise your hand and repeat after me.”

Mac did as he was told.

“I, Luke MacKenzie, promise to treat my library books with care, read them promptly and return them before the due date, so help me God.”

Chuckling, Mac repeated the promise and when he was finished, she handed him the paper. “Thanks,” he said.

“Is there anything I can help you find? What do you like to read? Besides Shakespeare.”

“I’ve been reading the biographies of the great explorers—Columbus, Marco Polo, Amundsen.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“What do you like to read?”

She took a moment to formulate an answer. “My favorite is true-life adventure. Climbing Everest and surviving in a life raft for seventy days. Books about people with daring and courage.”

“And do you have daring and courage?” he asked.

“No,” Emma said. “Quite the opposite. That’s why I find those books so fascinating.”

“Note to self,” he murmured. “Add more adventure to Marry-Me Emma’s life.”

She giggled softly and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “There’s a new biography of David Livingstone. If you haven’t read it, you should. I thought it was excellent.”

“Good. I’ll read it. And maybe we could get together and have coffee and talk about it.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Mac had never needed to clarify his intent when it came to women, but he wasn’t quite sure if coffee and a book discussion qualified as a date. “Would you consider that a date?” he asked.

Emma thought about her answer for a long moment. “Probably not.”

“What would I have to add to make it a real date?” Mac asked.

“Maybe dinner? Definitely dinner. And a movie? But we don’t have a theater in town, so dinner would be enough.”

She blushed more deeply and Mac could see that the question had flustered her. “Emma, would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

She drew in a sharp breath, then nodded her head. “Yes. Yes, that would be lovely. When?”

“Soon? But I’m probably going to need three or four days to finish the book.”

“Or I could recommend a shorter book,” she said.

“How about Saturday?”

“The Livingstone bio is about four hundred and fifty pages long, including the notes and index.”