True believer - Nicholas Sparks [26]
She smiled. Yes, she could handle Mr. Marsh. And besides, she had to admit that he was rather good-looking, even if he couldn’t be trusted.
Jeremy Marsh looked almost bored.
He was pacing one of the aisles, his arms crossed, glancing at the contemporary titles. Every now and then he frowned, as if wondering why he couldn’t find anything by Dickens, Chaucer, or Austen. If he asked about it, she wondered how he would react if she responded with “Who?” Knowing him—and she readily admitted she didn’t know him at all but was simply making an assumption here—he’d probably just stare at her all tongue-tied like he had when she saw him earlier in the cemetery. Men, she thought. Always predictable.
She tugged at her sweater, procrastinating for one last moment before starting toward him. Keep it professional, she reminded herself, you’re on a mission here.
“I suppose you’re looking for me,” she announced, forcing a tight smile.
Jeremy glanced up at the sound of her voice, and for a moment, he seemed frozen in place. Then all at once he smiled as recognition set in. It seemed friendly enough—his dimple was cute—but the smile was a little too practiced and wasn’t enough to offset the confidence in his eyes.
“You’re Lex?” he asked.
“It’s short for ‘Lexie.’ Lexie Darnell. It’s what Doris calls me.”
“You’re the librarian?”
“When I’m not hanging out in cemeteries and ignoring staring men, I try to be.”
“Well, I’ll be,” he said, trying to drawl the words like Doris had.
She smiled and moved past him to straighten a few books on the shelf that he’d examined.
“Your accent doesn’t cut it, Mr. Marsh,” she said. “You sound like you’re trying out letters for a crossword puzzle.”
He laughed easily, unfazed by her comment. “You think so?” he asked.
Definitely a ladies’ man, she thought.
“I know so.” She continued straightening the books. “Now, what can I help you with, Mr. Marsh? I suppose you’re looking for information on the cemetery?”
“My reputation precedes me.”
“Doris called to tell me you were on the way.”
“Ah,” he said. “I should have known. She’s an interesting woman.”
“She’s my grandmother.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. L-I-B, he thought, keeping it to himself this time. But wasn’t that interesting? “Did she tell you about our delightful lunch?” he asked.
“I really didn’t ask.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, noting that his dimple was the kind that made little kids want to poke their finger in it. Not that she cared one way or the other, of course. She finished with the books and faced him, keeping her tone steady. “Believe it or not, I’m fairly busy at the moment,” she asserted. “I’ve got a load of paperwork that I need to finish today. What type of information were you looking for?”
He shrugged. “Anything that might help me with the history of the cemetery and the town. When the lights started. Any studies that have been done in the past. Any stories that mention the legends. Old maps. Information on Riker’s Hill and the topography. Historical records. Things like that.” He paused, studying those violet eyes again. They were really quite exotic. And here she was right next to him, instead of walking away. He found that interesting, too.
“I have to say, it’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning against the shelf beside her.
She stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Seeing you at the cemetery and now here. Your grandmother’s letter, which brought me down here. It’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”
“I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”
Jeremy was not to be deterred. He was seldom deterred, especially when things were interesting. “Well, since I’m not from around here, maybe you could tell me what people do for relaxation in these parts. I mean, is there a place to get some coffee? Or a bite to eat?” He paused. “Like maybe a little later, after you’re off?”
Wondering if she’d heard him right, she