“Found it,” he said, holding up, THE TALES OF DESPEREAUX. “So, what about dinner?”
“Come closer,” whispered the Librarian.
“No way,” he laughed. “You’re not grabbing me by the throat again.”
“Then go away.”
“Like their librarians tough around here, don’t they,” he said, backing up a little more.
The Librarian growled.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands, the book cover facing her. “I’m just going to leave my number right here,” he continued, placing a white card on the counter, pushing it toward her. “If you change your mind, just give me a call.”
He blew her a kiss. She caught it, threw it down and stomped on it.
He was laughed and touched his heart.
“Jim,” she said, very slowly, “if you say a single word, I will tear out your heart and shove it up your nose. Is that clear?”
Mr. Waters walked away.
A woman from the Administration Office walked to her and put down a pile of, YOU GOT A CALL, post-its. “These are for you. A nurse at the hospital keeps calling. She said no one answers the library phone.”
“Thanks Marge, but don’t take anymore messages,” said the Librarian, tearing the notes into shreds and tossing the pieces into the wastebasket.
“Got it,” said Marge. But she did say it was urgent.”
“It’s about the guy who was stabbed and left on the lawn. He thinks his problems are mine. They aren’t. I don’t know him and I don’t want to know him, but thanks again.”
“Sure. No problem,” Marge said, happily. “I’ll block her calls.”
“I’ll never understand why men keep asking you out, or why you have any friends at all,” said Mr. Waters, as he walked past her.
The Librarian smiled and went back to her books.