Broken Resolutions (3 page)

Even from a distance, the man radiated a sort of quiet power. He sat perfectly still, every muscle under control. The foot he’d propped over his other knee didn’t wiggle. The long fingers resting on the arms of the chair didn’t tap. His eyes stayed glued to Brenda. Was he her son?

Penny knew one thing for sure. If he was Brenda’s son, he didn’t need Penny for anything, despite what Angie had said. Not a single thing. This man could take care of himself—and if he couldn’t, more than a few ladies would be delighted to do it for him. Even as she watched, several women approached his chair. He gave them each a polite nod and a word or two, but nothing more. Eventually, they drifted away in disappointment.

Honestly, he didn’t seem the sort to come to a singles’ event at the library. He was too . . . aloof. Too self-contained.

As if sensing her scrutiny, the man looked her way. Their eyes met, and she felt an odd shiver chase down her spine. He didn’t nod. Didn’t acknowledge her in any way. He simply looked for a long moment, his face like stone.

She couldn’t move. His features . . . they looked familiar. Almost as if she knew him. But surely she’d have remembered meeting a man like him at the library. Anywhere, actually.

A tap on her arm made her jump.

“Excuse me?” asked a middle-aged man wearing a tie with little party hats printed on it. “When does the event start?”

She tore her gaze away from the man in the shadows, turning to face the partygoer beside her. Immediately, a tidal wave of cologne assaulted her nose, and she stifled a sneeze.

“Soon,” she said, and sneezed again.

He looked mortified. Edging closer, he whispered, “Is it my cologne? I haven’t worn any in years, not since before I got married.” Seeing her confused glance down at his ring finger, he sighed. “We got divorced early this year. I’m trying to get back out there.”

“I’m sorry . . . to hear that,” she choked out between sneezes. “Maybe you used . . . a bit . . . too much . . . cologne.”

He handed her a tissue and headed for the men’s room.

Wiping her streaming eyes—so much for her eye makeup—she turned to face the crowd. “Welcome to the Battlefield Library, a branch of the Nice County Public Library,” she called out. “This is our first annual New Year’s Eve singles event, and we’re so excited you chose to attend.”

Everyone began to gather in a loose circle around her. Everyone except the man in the chair, who continued to watch her silently. It made her nervous. In fact, everything about this whole night made her nervous.

She decided to read directly from Angie’s notes on the itinerary. “My name is An—I mean, Penelope Callahan. I’ll be hosting tonight’s activities. In about five minutes, we’ll be starting our first game. We have events planned throughout the evening. The early ones will introduce you to each other and give you a sense of what everyone is looking for in a date or partner. The activities later in the evening will allow for more one-on-one time with anyone you find interesting. At midnight, we’ll have a champagne toast to celebrate the New Year.”

The crowd looked nervous but excited. “Just relax,” Penny told them, exactly as Angie had directed in her notes. “You’re among friends. You’re all here because you love books and would like to meet other people. I hope you find true love tonight.” She forced a smile. “But even if you don’t, I hope you find a friend. Throughout the evening, if there’s anything you need, let me know.”

Did I manage to fake it convincingly enough?
she wondered.
Because no way in hell is anyone leaving here tonight with true love. Maybe a true lay, but that’s about it. And for most of these people, not even that. Just some awkward conversation and a lonely bed waiting at home.

Stifling a sigh, she turned to the itinerary. Randomly assigned couples were supposed to read love scenes to each other. Angie had already placed all the names in two hats, one for men and one for women. She glanced at the sign-up list, checking the numbers. There was one extra woman, which confused her. If that was the case, why had Angie said she might need to participate? They needed another guy, not another woman.

A tap on her arm. “Better?” the man with the cologne issues asked. She cautiously sniffed, and then took a deep, relieved breath.

“Much better,” she told him.

“Good. Where do you want me?”

She pointed him toward the circle of chairs Angie had set up earlier in the day. Following his lead, the other singles also settled into the seats.

“Excuse me?” she heard. She turned to see a tall brunette in a short skirt. “I’m Yolanda. I don’t know if Angie told you, but my name doesn’t go in the hat. I’m gay. Angie said she’d invited someone with me in mind.”

“Angie didn’t—” Penny began.

“That would be me,” another woman said, her curls surrounding her head in a dark halo. “I’m Tasha.” Yolanda smiled at her, and the couple walked off together to find adjacent chairs.

Penny looked back at the sign-up list, making a notation beside the two women’s names. She counted. She recounted. Shit. Angie had been right. To make the numbers even, she’d have to participate, at least in this activity.

The silence suddenly caught her attention. All of the attendees had seated themselves in the chairs, including the man in the shadows. He sat next to Brenda, his eyes once again on the older woman and her conversation with Carl. From close range, she could now see that she hadn’t been mistaken. He didn’t belong here. If the sheer amount of testosterone he exuded hadn’t told her, the resigned look on his face would have. Unless she missed her guess, Brenda had forced him to come. As Penny watched, she saw the older woman give him a consoling pat on his knee.

All right. Enough gawking at the man. Time to get this party started. God help us all.

“As you know, the weather tonight did not cooperate with our plans.” Penny tilted her head toward the library windows, indicating the snow still heavily falling. “Quite a few people canceled, and we’re one woman short.”

“But there’s an extra woman,” protested a young man with a red tie.

“Lesbians,” Yolanda and Tasha announced in unison.

“Oh.” Red Tie subsided back into his chair.

“So . . .” Penny closed her eyes for a brief moment, gathering strength. “It seems I’ll be participating in at least this first game.”

Cologne Guy visibly perked up at that news, and she suppressed a wince.

“All of your names, except for theirs”—she nodded toward the happy female twosome, who had already moved so close that their shoulders were touching—“are in a male or female hat. I’ll draw names to assign you randomly into pairs for this game. Each of you picked a favorite love scene, and you’re going to read them together in your pairs after introducing yourselves.”

Red Tie’s mouth opened.

“You won’t need to stay in these pairs for the other games, unless you want to,” she added, knowing what was coming.

His mouth closed again.

She glanced down at Angie’s notes.
Read this next sentence exactly as written
, her friend had ordered, underlining the demand twice. “You should listen closely to the scene each person has chosen, because it will illustrate something about what he or she is looking for in love and . . . lust.”
I am going to fucking kill Angie, good friend or not
.

At that, the crowd sat a little straighter, a certain gleam appearing in the eyes of many. The mysterious man—she squinted at his name tag—Jack was not one of them. Instead, he was now glaring at Penny.
But it wasn’t my idea,
she wanted to protest.
I don’t even want to be here!

He ignored her telepathic message, turning away with a look of disgust.

“And now,” she said, pulling her first name out of the men’s hat. “Let’s begin.”

3

T
he librarian—Penelope, if he remembered correctly—stared at the tall, skinny man to Jack’s right. The man had almost finished reading his love scene with his partner, whose eyes had grown almost as wide as Penelope’s over the past few minutes. Not quite, though. He hadn’t seen such a big pair of brown eyes since . . . ever, actually. And certainly never ones filled with such consternation.

“—beneath him, her legs limp with ecstasy. The dread pirate Rafael took Chastity’s chin firmly in his hand, asking, ‘Do you now admit that you are completely mine, forever?’ ” The man next to Jack read with commendable, if misguided, enthusiasm.

His partner in the game, a middle-aged woman dressed in a conservative black dress, appeared to take a moment to gather herself before reading her part. “ ‘Yes, my virile pirate master,’ she replied, her voice hushed and filled with awe at his prowess. She could smell his enticing scent: sandalwood, musk, and man. It was a scent she couldn’t resist. A scent that made her loins throb even now, after having been satisfied so thoroughly. So powerfully. ‘I will belong to you forever, body and soul. Let us make beautiful pirate babies.’ ” By the end of her section, the poor woman could barely speak. She trailed into silence, her shoulders hunched.

“That’s the end of the scene,” the skinny man announced. A look of profound relief crossed his partner’s face, and she slumped in her chair.

“So, Clarence,” Penelope ventured, “why . . . why did you pick this scene?” It was the same question she’d asked after each team finished. This time, though, it seemed to stick in her throat, reluctant to emerge.

“Well, I may not have a peg leg, but I own a pirate costume, including an eye patch.” Clarence waggled his brows. “And when I have a woman over, I like to put it on and shiver
her
timb—”

“Okay, I think we’ve got it,” the librarian interrupted.

“Have her walk
my
wooden plank, if you know what—”

“Thank you, Clarence,” she said firmly. “Now we need to move on to the next pair.”

Jack braced himself. Only he and the guy across the circle with the red tie hadn’t yet been matched with a partner, along with the librarian and a scantily clad woman in her early twenties.
If Casey ever tries to dress like that for a date, I’m not letting her leave the house
, he thought.
Thank God she’s only four. I still have years to find a nunnery with a decent pre-med program.

Red Tie had been eyeing Skintight Dress for the past forty-five minutes. Jack sincerely hoped the two would be matched. Then he and the librarian could each bow out, since neither one of them had planned on participating in this insane exercise. Jack could swear that she too found the game horrifying, despite the poker face she was trying to maintain. But how could that be? Hadn’t she planned the whole goddamn evening?

The librarian drew a name out of the women’s hat. After glancing at the slip of paper, she took a deep breath. “It’s me,” she said with a strained smile. “And my partner is . . .”

Me. Me. Let it be me
, thought Jack.

“. . . Julian.”

Shit.

Red Tie immediately protested. “But you weren’t even supposed to be part of this. Why don’t I read with her?” He pointed at Skintight Dress, who frowned back at him.

Penelope looked discomfited. “Later in the evening, people can choose their own partners, Julian. For now, let’s just—”

“You didn’t come here to meet someone tonight. I did. So I want to read with”—he took a long time peering at Skintight Dress’s nametag, which she’d stuck on the top of her dress, right over her breast—“Courtney.”

Jesus, what a dick
. No matter whether the librarian wanted to read with Red Tie or not—and he’d be willing to bet “not”—no woman wanted to be passed over in favor of another. In front of a crowd, no less. The pale skin of her upper chest had turned pink, and she was looking down at the floor. He couldn’t see her face, only the top of her head and the short wisps of brown hair there. A pixie cut, he’d heard it called. Appropriate, since she resembled a pretty elf in that green dress.

Red Tie was a moron. Even if she’d engineered this entire train wreck of a gathering, the little librarian was clearly the prize in the room.

“I’ll read with you,” Jack found himself saying to Penelope.

“If Courtney agrees, you can both read with her,” Penelope finally said, her voice quiet. “It’s okay. Julian’s right. I wasn’t even supposed to be part of the events tonight, except as a host.”

“No offense to Courtney. I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman,” Jack said, “but I want to read with you.
Only
you.”

To his surprise, he meant it. He’d been sitting in the cushioned chair, listening to the scenes everyone else had chosen. But he hadn’t looked at them. No, he’d watched her, at least when he’d thought she wouldn’t notice. Wondering what book passage she’d pick and what it might say about her. Wondering how her skin would feel under his fingers. It looked soft. Delicate, like her.

Sure, he blamed her for planning this ridiculous event. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view. And to be honest, the longer he looked at her, the less irritated he felt.

“Oh, but I didn’t prepare anything,” she said. “I’m filling in for another librarian tonight, and I never imagined I’d need to participate.”

“You’re in a library, dear,” Brenda said. “Go pick a book now, while our friends Julian”—she scowled at him—“and Courtney do their scene.”

“But—” Penelope began again.

“Run along, Penny,” said Brenda. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Jack knew that tone. There was no use protesting. Clearly, the librarian realized it too, since she got up and walked into the stacks. Which reminded him . . . “I need to go get a book too,” he told his mother, beginning to rise.

“No, you don’t,” Brenda replied. “I picked one for you.”

“God help me,” he muttered, and settled back into his seat.

Penelope reemerged with a hardcover in her hands several minutes later, just as Red Tie and Skintight Dress finished their scenes. As she sat back down in her chair, she glanced Jack’s way and caught him looking at her. Her cheeks flushed again, though she didn’t seem embarrassed anymore. She looked . . . confused.