Cyrus (The Henchmen MC 9)

She stopped a few feet away, looking me up and down, as she always did, and shaking her head, again, as she always did.

Kenzi was personally offended by leggings, oversized sweaters, and ballet flats.

Given that her job was fashion, I guess she would know more than I would. She dressed for that, for looks. Me, well, I dressed mostly for comfort. And in whatever hid my butt the best. Hence the long sweaters. I could get away with them in the fall, winter, and spring, leaving only summer the time of year when I struggled.

When her gaze went to my face, though, her brows drew together. "Are you sick, Ree?"

"Sick? No. Why?"

"You're all flushed," she said, going over to take up the spot Cyrus had vacated.

At the thought of his name, a pang went off inside.

Cyrus.

With molten eyes.

Calling me 'baby' which he had never used on me before. It was always 'honey,' 'sweets,' 'angel,' or 'angel face.' Never, ever 'baby.' 'Baby' was for men to use with lovers, right?

And I would swear, swear, he was going to kiss me.

Right?

Then maybe, you know, a whole heck of a lot more.

"Whoa, there it is again," she said, looking concerned as she hopped up, moving toward me, and reaching out to touch the side of my neck. Our mother always tested our temperature there instead of our foreheads. It kind of just stuck. "You're warm, Ree," she said, looking even more concerned.

"I'm just... it's warm in here," I covered, shrugging.

"It's like The Abominable Snowman's balls in here," she corrected, making a surprised snort burst out of me. "Seriously, though. You might be coming down with something. How long till you close up?"

I looked over above the desk at the clock that had been there since the library first opened, an ornate, wrought iron thing that I adored. "Twenty minutes."

"Order some soup to pick up on the way home," she suggested, going for her phone. "Actually, I'll do it. And I'll have them deliver. Want anything else with that?"

An icepack for my lady bits, perhaps?

"From where?"

"Abby's," she supplied, naming a place we had been ordering from since it opened six months before because the menu was a unique blend of just about anything you could want at any given time, and had the distinction in our town of being open twenty-four/seven.

"An apple turnover and some of that hibiscus green tea."

"Okay. Ordered," she said, doing it on the app since it wasn't an actual restaurant. It was delivery only, and serviced fully through an app, which was why I liked it so much; I never had to talk to anyone except the delivery guy who cared more about my tip than any small talk. "Are you stuffy or anything?"

"No."

"Hm. Maybe it's coming. Take some Vitamin C when you get in too," she said as she hopped off the desk. "I am running late to meet Tig, but I wanted to check in on you, see how you're doing. You've been a bit off-the-grid lately."

"Oh, I've just been... going out a bit more," I hedged. "Movies and such," I added, not wanting her to ask with whom.

"Oh, well that's good, Ree. Glad you're not holed up all the time in your apartment. Alright. I will call to check on you tomorrow to see if you're still feeling alright," she said, touching my neck again before running out.

So, okay.

I totally looked for him.

I'm not even embarrassed to admit that.

His departure was abrupt and unlike him.

And, well, I had to walk the library from one end to the other anyway before I closed up.

"You alright, Miss Washington?" Bradley, the sixty-seven-year-old volunteer asked as he found me maybe, well, checking all the already locked rooms.

Of all our volunteers, Bradley was my favorite. He was tall and willowy with a mostly balding head, which he refused to acknowledge, just kept combing over the five hairs he had left to 'cover' it. He had eyeglasses that I'd swear were an inch thick, and made his green eyes look enormous. He was the only volunteer that was willing to work nights, which I rotated with one of the other librarians. And he was fun company, always going on and on about his crazy grandkids and how they talked in tongues (slang) that he didn't understand.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. I thought I, ah, saw someone come this way, but they must have come back and left without my noticing."

There was no mistaking the sinking feeling in my chest when Bradley - the old gentleman he was - walked me to my car in the half-darkened lot, like his frail self could in any way protect me if there was a threat. It was still unbearably sweet nonetheless. But as I got closer, I realized Cy wasn't waiting for me like I had maybe been hoping.