A MUDVILLE SHORT STORY

Dry fallen leaves crunched beneath my flats as I reached the corner and glanced up just as the streetlight turned from red to green.

Ugh. Red and green. The colors of Christmas—a time I didn’t want to think about. No one wants to be all alone on Christmas.

Halloween on the other hand… that was a different story. This time of year gave me a thrill deep down. And it wasn’t just from the visions of spiced rum-spiked cider that danced in my head either.

There was something spine-tingling about the season. A visceral reaction that hit me every year, no matter where I was.

The cool air of an October breeze warred with the heat of the autumn afternoon sun that warmed me.

I’d already ditched the cardigan I’d donned this morning and now just wore a silk blouse and wool pants. My librarian uniform, I called my wardrobe.

I waited for the one vehicle on Main Street to proceed before I crossed.

It was a rusted out old hay truck with what looked like a handmade wooden bed. Not something I’d see on the streets of the cities I was used to, but I had a feeling it was a commonplace sight here in the tiny upstate New York village of Mudville.

The two-story stone-fronted building in front of me housed businesses on the first floor and what looked like apartments upstairs.

One shop in particular had caught my eye when I’d first arrived in town just days ago. A coffee shop. Or perhaps it was a bakery. Or maybe it was both.

Judging from the signs, I could see it offered pastries and hot tea. Exactly what I needed after my first day of school.

My mouth watered at the thought. Head down, I stepped up onto the curb… and crashed into something big and hard.

The something responded with an “Oof.”

Looking up, I frowned. “Excuse me.”

I’d imbued the word with as much accusation and attitude as I could muster. That was apparently all lost on him as he nodded and said, “No problem. You’re excused.”

I sighed. I’d moved to such a small town they didn’t even have sarcasm here.

What a girl had to do to earn a living nowadays…

If only my phone psychic business would pick up, I wouldn’t have had to look for another job. A real job, as my father pointed out so often. A job related to the very expensive degree he’d paid for, which he also brought up every Sunday at family dinner... maybe living three hours away from my parents had its advantages after all.

I moved to the left to get around the muscle-bound brute. But he moved the same direction. I sidled right and again he mirrored my movement.

Being trapped in front of him gave me a close-up view of the pecs straining the fabric of his short-sleeved collared shirt. When I managed to look up farther, I saw green and gold-flecked hazel eyes bracketed by laugh lines that told me more about this man than our inane conversation had so far.

But even if he was ruggedly handsome and probably just the right age for me to consider an appropriate date, I wasn’t here to find love.

Find love in Mudville? The idea was laughable.

I wasn’t even here to settle down. I was here temporarily, after which I would hopefully be able to get a job back in civilization.

“Will you please excuse me?” I scowled up at him.

There was hopefully a gooey honey bun and a hot cup of peppermint tea waiting for me in the shop just behind the mountain of man. If only I could get to it.

He cocked up one light brown brow. “We’ve already covered this. You’re excused.”

I let out a huff. “I meant you’re in my way. I’m trying to get to the bakery.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?” The beast had the nerve to pick me up with two hands on my waist, pivot, and physically place me onto the sidewalk in front of the shop. “There. Be my guest.”

At a loss for how to respond to this odd man about his even odder action, I said, “Uh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned, but then spun immediately back. “Can I borrow that?”

“Borrow what?”

“That.” His eyes were on the top of my head as he reached out one hand and emerged with a pen. “I need to sign a check for deposit and there’s never any pens at the ATM.”

I reached up and patted my bun. There was still a pencil and at least one other pen still stuck in it. I supposed I could be magnanimous to the stranger and spare one pen. My good deed for the day. “Um. Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, showing off straight white teeth worthy of a toothpaste commercial. Then he stepped off the curb and trotted across the street.

“Well, that was weird,” I mumbled to myself for lack of anyone else to talk to. Even the big black crow perched on the streetlight didn’t stick around to listen to me and swooped away as I made my way to the shop.

The tinkling of a bell over the door heralded my arrival, bringing a woman from the back where I assumed the kitchen was. She stepped up to the counter. “Hello. Welcome to Honey Buns. I’m Bethany.”

“Hi. I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel,” she repeated. “That’s not a name you hear often nowadays.”

“So I hear.” I heard it every single time I introduced myself, actually.

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the worktable behind the counter. Tipping her head to one side, she evaluated me. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Does it?” I laughed. That was the first time I’d heard that.

“It does. And it’s different. People should be different more often.”

And with that, I immediately liked this woman with the blue streak in her hair and the “We’ll leave you sticky” T-shirt.

“I agree.” I nodded.

“So, are you new in town or just passing through?” she asked.

“Kind of both. I’m the substitute librarian at the school until the regular librarian is off maternity leave.”

She nodded. “It’s nice to have you in town. What can I get for you?”

“I was hoping for one of your honey buns and a peppermint tea?”

My answer to her question was kind of a question of my own, since I found it was near impossible to find herbal tea in this coffee-obsessed society. Ask for a pumpkin spice latte and sure, no problem. Every place had that. Even McDonald’s. But ask for herbal tea and it was like I was requesting the impossible.

God, how I loathed pumpkin-spiced anything. Ugh.

“Peppermint tea and a honey bun. You got it.” She smiled and turned to grab a mug and a little ceramic tea pot.

An actual mug and an honest to goodness tea pot. Not a paper cup with a tea bag tossed into some lukewarm water.

I watched in amazement. This place and its owner were an unexpected check in the Mudville “pro” column, just when I hadn’t wanted to like it here.

“You can take a seat and I’ll bring it over,” Bethany called from behind the counter.

“Okay. Thanks.” I looked around at the seating options.

There were a few quaint little café tables with vintage-looking mismatched chairs, but I had my eye on the overstuffed chair backed up against a bookcase filled with leather-bound hardcovers and a few paperbacks.

I’d found my home here in Mudville. This shop. I envisioned sitting in that chair every day after school with a pot of tea and a book.

That peaceful vision came screeching to a halt when the door opened and the big handsome weirdo from the street came busting through.

He zeroed in on me. “Hey. There you are. I’ve got your pen.”

He made his way to me in a few long strides of his lengthy legs. Then, with his teeth latched onto his lower lip, he carefully inserted the pen back into my bun, like I was some sort of human Jenga.

“Uh. Thanks.” Why was I forever thanking this man for being strange?

“Hey, Mudd. How are you?” Bethany asked as she made her way to me, the tray in her hands bearing my order.

Mudd? Hmm. And people said my name was strange. But I didn’t have time to think more about that. I had to claim my territory.

I scrambled to sit in the wide chair before the oaf claimed it. And, also, so Bethany would be able to put down my order on the small table next to the chair.

“Hey, Bethany. What’s good?” he asked.

“Everything.” She smiled. “But if you’re asking if there are any specials, I’ve got pumpkin cupcakes with spiced cream-cheese frosting.”

He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language. Half a dozen, please.”

Ugh. He was a pumpkin spice lover. This man got more annoying by the minute.

Happy to remain in my peppermint bubble in the corner and observe from afar without having to interact further, I was just bringing the steaming cup of hot aromatic tea to my mouth when a smell, foreign and out of place here amid the sweets, invaded my nose.

What was that? Pizza? Why did I smell pizza—

One glance at Mudd and I identified the source of the odor. He was carrying a grease-soaked paper bag. This man was destined to insinuate himself into my life today. That was becoming obvious.

What had I done to deserve this intrusion into my respite? I must have stepped on a bug or something and karma was punishing me.

“You done for the day?” Bethany asked Mudd as he paid her for his cupcakes, and I tried not to hate him for having the body of a male model while eating cupcakes by the dozen.

“I am. Just grabbed something to take back to my room to eat.”

“Why don’t you sit down and eat it here instead of in your room alone?” Bethany asked.

His room. Did this guy live with his parents at his age? But no, she’d said alone. He must rent a room, like me.

I frowned at myself for thinking and caring about him and his living situation. I was not interested in this odd man with the strange name. Nope. Not one little bit.

Mudd shook his head. “Nah. Thanks. I don’t want to take up a table.”

“Seriously, Mudd. It’s not like I’m packed. You can take a table.” Bethany rolled her eyes.

He hesitated, then finally nodded. “Okay. Just for a few minutes.”

Damn my inquisitive nature, but as he sat, thankfully at one of the tables and not in the other chair near mine, I started to wonder. Where did he get a name like Mudd? And what kind of work did he do?

And was he really eating his pizza with the knife and fork he’d pulled out of the paper bag along with the slice on the white paper plate?

Who did that? As he sawed away at the crust with the little plastic knife, it was obvious he did.

To avoid staring at him, I glanced at the titles of the books behind me, but none of them held my interest as much as my questions about the oh so strange man before me.

Dare I start a conversation by asking him a question? I mean, I could. We did have that bond over my bun-pen and all.

“How is everything?” Bethany asked, sneaking up on me while I contemplated.

If he would just leave, I’d bet I could get her to tell me all about him. Then I would have my answers and wouldn’t have to talk to him at all. Damn my curiosity.

“Everything is really wonderful. So good.” I gushed, but it was the truth. Her honey buns might be better than sex, which said something about the state of my love life currently.

I found myself unable to keep from staring at Mudd as he lifted the tiny triangle of pizza he’d managed to cut off to his mouth with the little white fork.

Bethany followed my gaze. “Have you met Mudd?” she asked.

My eyes shot back to her. “Um, not officially.”

“Mudd, this is Mabel. Mabel, Mudd.”

He raised his gaze from the slice to me. “Mabel. That’s a pretty name.”

“Really?” I asked, shocked. I’d always hated the old-fashioned name I’d been saddled with in honor of my great-grandmother.

He dipped his head in a nod. “Yeah. I like it.”

I tried not to get too worked up over the compliment, taking into account it came from a man named Mudd.

Speaking of…this seemed like the perfect time to ask, “So, where’d your name come from?”

“Family name.” He sounded less than thrilled about it. I couldn’t say I blamed him.

“Mudville was named after the Mudd family back when it was founded centuries ago,” Bethany began. “Alice Mudd is the last surviving member of the Mudd family still residing in town, but we managed to lure her great nephew from the city to do some work for us.”

“Work?” I asked, irrationally excited I was getting answers to all my questions so effortlessly.

“I’m a carpenter.”

Bethany blew out a loud, lip-flapping breath. “No. You’re a master craftsman.”

He managed to look embarrassed at her praise. “I’m rebuilding the bar in the old hotel across the street.”

“Teddy Roosevelt drank there back in the day,” Bethany added proudly.

“Over the years, a lot of the woodwork and original built-ins have been lost,” he explained. “Luckily, there are pictures. I’ve been able to recreate what’s missing.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”  Dammit. Now I really was interested. But Bethany had said they’d lured him from the city. He didn’t even live here.

I reminded myself, neither did I. At least I wouldn’t after the regular librarian returned.

But when I went back to my hometown, it wasn’t all that far from the city. I contemplated that as I mindlessly popped the last bite of honey bun into my mouth and licked the sweet sticky glaze off my fingers.

The tinkling bell sounded once again, but I was too busy pouring the last of my tea from the pot into my mug to look who was coming in. I did spare a thought about how busy this place was.

I was just thinking how happy I was for Bethany that she did a booming business when I heard a high-pitched scream. Or actually, more of a yelp. Or maybe a yip.

Bethany was standing right there, and the noise hadn’t come from her. And it hadn’t come from me, so…

My gaze moved to Mudd and I realized the sound had come from him. He was wide-eyed and slowly backing his chair away from…a clown?

“Relax, Mudd. It’s me. Cash. Jeez. You afraid of clowns or something?” The clown pulled off his red wig, but that didn’t help much since he still had on the red nose and the white painted face. Not to mention the big shoes and colorful outfit.

“For fuck’s sake, Cash. What the hell? And yes, I’m afraid of clowns. Who isn’t?” Mudd asked, perfectly seriously and terrified.

Mudd was afraid of clowns.

I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing. I dared to glance up at Bethany and saw her biting her lip and looking amused as well.

“Can I help you, Cash?” she asked, still hiding a smile while Mudd watched the clown with his hand pressed over his heart and a look of suspicion.

“I’m picking up the cookies for the kids’ event at the farm.”

“Got ‘em all boxed up for you.” Bethany shot Cash and his outfit a glance before turning toward the glass display case. “You lose a bet with your brothers or something that you got to be the clown this year?”

“Yeah.” His scowl was visible even beneath the painted-on smile.

“How about not having a clown? Probably scaring the kids to death,” Mudd mumbled, bringing my attention back to him.

Handsome. Fit. Talented. Eats pizza with a knife and fork. Afraid of clowns. Named Mudd. So far, the scale was balanced as far as the pro and con columns regarding Mudd.

Random thoughts of what could tip the scales in his favor streamed through my head. More than a few involved a bed.

Darn. Why was I suddenly so…horny? I hated that word, but there was no doubt it was the most accurate description for how I was feeling at the moment.

I turned and realized I was leaning against the bookcase, stuffed full of books—My weakness. My aphrodisiac.

The scent of old books never failed to make my lady parts tingle. Which often made it difficult to be a librarian. Especially a single librarian. And now a single librarian in the vicinity of a hot man.

Even a clown-fearing, fork-and-knife pizza-eating man named Mudd couldn’t counteract the effects of the bibliophile-fueled pheromones surging through my body.

“Can I get you anything else?”

I jumped at Bethany’s question, my cheeks heating at the thoughts I’d been having when she’d interrupted me.

Looking up, I saw the clown and his cookies were gone and Mudd was starting to recover from his fright as he crumpled up the bag from his now gone pizza.

“What? Oh. No. Thanks. How much do I owe you?” I reached for my purse to get out my wallet.

She shook her head. “It’s on me. An unofficial welcome to town.”

“Thank you. That’s really sweet of you… no pun intended.” I smiled at my own clever word play. “I’ll be back often. I promise.”

As Mudd stood to toss his trash in the bin, Bethany’s gaze turned to him. “Mudd. Why don’t you take Mabel on a tour of Mudville House?” She turned back to me pointedly. “It’s really beautiful. The architecture. The history.“

My eyes widened and Mudd froze near the trash can.

“Uh, did you want to see it?” he asked me.

“Um, yeah. Sure,” I said, both of us blindsided into awkwardness by Bethany’s sudden suggestion.

“Okay. Good.” She clapped her hands together. “Let me get you the master key. My boyfriend Brandon owns the hotel and Mudd is staying there while he’s doing the work, so you have an all-access pass for a tour,” Bethany told me.

I followed her to the counter as she went behind it to get a key out of the register.

“Are you playing matchmaker?” I whispered so Mudd wouldn’t hear.

“Do you not want me to?” She paused with the key in her hand as her gaze shot to him and then back to me.

I had to think about that, but not for too long as the bookish-induced sex haze still gripped me and my lady parts. “I guess it’s okay.”

“He’s a really good guy… Clown thing aside.” She grinned wide.

At that, a laugh burst from me before I wrestled my amusement into submission. I took the key and turned to Mudd, the six-foot-plus behemoth who was afraid of clowns.

“Ready?” I asked.

Bakery box filled with his pumpkin spice cupcakes—one more thing to go in the con column—he nodded and took the key I handed him. “Ready.”

We walked across the street to the big old hotel I hadn’t given much notice to before. I should have. Bethany was correct. It was an architectural gem.

He pushed the main front door wide then stepped aside. “After you.”

“Thanks.”

Walking inside, I didn’t know where to look first.

The carved check-in desk had a wall lined with little boxes behind it, each marked with brass numbers, for keys or maybe messages for each room. The dark, rich wood paneling on the walls gleamed, the lemony odor telling me it had been recently oiled. The green glass fixtures overhead spread colored light onto the objects below. The antique lights were probably gas-fueled at one point before being electrified.

“This is amazing. It’s like walking through a time portal.”

“It is. I know,” he agreed. “Wanna see something really cool?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Even if we did seem to be the only people here, I trusted Bethany, and she trusted Mudd. Call me crazy, but I figured he wasn’t going to murder me across the street from the coffeeshop while the sun was still up.

“Come on.” He tipped his head toward the hallway behind the front desk and led the way to a door.

Opening it, he revealed a large closet, which he walked into. Being a woman, I was up for a good closet, so I followed him inside. This one had nice shelving. Perfect for sweaters and shoe storage, although this being a hotel it was probably more likely to be used for bed linens or tiny soaps and shampoos.

The scratching sound of wood sliding against wood brought my gaze around. I watched in amazement as one of the shelves pivoted on invisible hinges, creating a door to a hidden chamber.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed, stepping through the hidden doorway after him.

Mudd pulled his cell phone out and illuminated the space.

“Ah, there it is.” He pushed the hidden door so he could reach the wall behind it and hit the old push-button light switch there. “There are various stories. One is that this building was part of the underground railway. Another is that this was used to hide the bootleg alcohol during Prohibition.”

“Which do you believe?” I asked, the librarian in me dying to start doing research.

“I think it was probably used for both over the centuries.”

“It’s amazing. Thanks for showing it to me.”

“My pleasure.” He turned toward the door we’d walked through, which had slid closed.

He stared at it, frowning. I stared at him and asked, “Problem?”

“I’m just not sure how to open it from this side.”

“Um, what?” Panic started to grip me, accompanied by the slightest bit of claustrophobia.

“I’m sure there’s some mechanism or something.” He ran one hand along the edge of the wood.

Putting his box of cupcakes down on the ground, he began searching in earnest with both hands as I panicked more.

“Are we trapped in here?” I asked.

“No. I’m sure there’s something. Ah-ha. Here we go.” He was down on the floor now, kneeling. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” He sat heavily, his back against the door, his legs out in front of him, and glanced up at me.

“So we are trapped in here,” I said.

His gaze met mine. “Maybe.”

“Forever?”

“No. Brandon is supposed to stop by to check on the work.”

“When?”

“This evening.” He met my eyes then his gaze dropped away. “Tomorrow morning, the latest.”

That was not the answer I’d wanted to hear.

In a flash of brilliance, I fished inside my bag, located and took out my cell phone.

Why hadn’t I thought of it before? We could just call for help. Bethany. 9-1-1. Anybody. All we needed was someone to push the door open for us from the other side.

“No signal,” Mudd said from below me.

I looked at my bars and saw the one that had been there disappear. Crud. Resigned, I slid down the wall to sit on the floor next to him. “What now?”

He rolled his head to look at me. “I guess we can talk while we wait. Or play a game.”

I frowned. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?” he suggested.

“Okay. Fine.”

He sat up a little straighter, looking excited. That figured. He liked pumpkin spice and he was a game player— That was another thing I loathed. Games. “

“Truth or dare?” he asked me.

“Truth,” I answered, mainly because I didn’t see much potential for dares in this room.

What could he ask me to do? Stand on my head? Kiss him…

Clearing my throat and my mind at that image, I turned to await my truth.

“Most embarrassing moment,” he demanded.

Second-guessing my choice, I scowled and considered my confession. “Okay. This one time I was at work—I’m a school librarian—and I didn’t notice that my blouse had unbuttoned and I was pretty much flashing the whole school, possibly for the entire day.”

“And no one told you?” His eyes widened.

“Finally, one of the female teachers told me, but it was at the end of the day. Until then everyone saw what I had on under there.”

I didn’t want to think that event had anything to do with my job being done away with just the next semester. Down-sizing they told me. As I was forced to file for unemployment for the first time in my life, I had other suspicions. That was before I got into being a part-time phone psychic.

He frowned. “Wait. What did you have on under there?”

My cheeks heated. “Um, I’d rather not say.”

His eyes got impossibly wider. “Were you naked under there?”

“No. I had on—a corset.”

His mouth opened, closed and then opened again as he said, “Description, please.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just a corset. You know. A corset.”

In spite of having a master’s degree, I was suddenly incapable of putting two words together.

He looked inordinately excited over my answer and I felt the need to elaborate. “I was fully covered. No one saw nipples or anything.”

Biting his lip, he nodded. “So do you, uh, wear that all the time under your librarian clothes?” His gaze dropped briefly to my chest before he yanked it back up. “Like do you have one on now?”

My face was on fire as I reluctantly admitted, “Yes.”

He cleared his throat and nodded, his nostrils flaring as his eyes looked a bit unfocused. “Okay. Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” I asked him.

“Truth.”

Now that I was up, I couldn’t think of nearly anything as embarrassing as what he’d asked me. And I was too stubborn to just repeat his question. Finally, I settled on something to ask.

“What’s something no one here in town knows about you?” I asked.

He pressed his lips together as he thought for a moment, before saying, “I own a cat named Pussy.”

Only a man would name his cat Pussy. I shot him a glare from beneath my lowered brows.

“Don’t look at me like that. Her full name is Pussy Galore.”

I shook my head and shrugged, confused.

“Pussy Galore? The James Bond character. From the movies,” he explained.

I lifted one shoulder. “Never saw one.”

He frowned deeply at me and looked completely perplexed by that fact before he sighed.

I felt that sigh to my soul. We had nothing in common. That realization hung heavily between us in the silence.

“Want a cupcake?” he asked, nudging the box toward me.

I wrinkled my nose. “No, thank you. I hate pumpkin spice anything.”

“What? That’s nuts. I DARE you to try one.”

My gaze whipped to him. “No. You have to ask me truth or dare first.”

“Who says?” he asked.

Stumped, I frowned and said, “I don’t know. Everybody.”

“Come on. My game, my rules. Just do it. Take one bite. I dare you.” Without waiting for my agreement, he opened the bakery box and pulled out one icing-laden cupcake.

I had to admit it did look good. Or it would have if it hadn’t been tainted by that pumpkin spice. Meanwhile, Mudd had peeled off the paper and was bringing the cupcake close to my mouth. Something about him feeding me felt very intimate…and I liked it.

And more surprisingly, as the spicy flavors of the cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg combined with the cool creamy sweet cream cheese hit my tongue, I liked the cupcake too. Dammit.

What was real anymore? I was starting to doubt all my beliefs. Maybe having things in common was overrated.

“Well?” he asked, taking the cupcake back and taking a big bite of his own.

I scowled as I admitted, “It’s good.”

He looked too satisfied at my answer. I occupied myself with wiping my mouth clean and licking my fingers.

“No napkin in that bun of yours?”

“Um…” I frowned and considered, then answered more definitively. “No.”

“Wait.” His eyes focused on my bun.  “What do you have in there?”

I frowned. “I don’t know. What do you need?”

“Something to pry the door open with. Something metal maybe.”

Reaching up, I felt around blindly until I encountered what I’d been searching for. I emerged triumphant with a metal knitting needle. “Like this?” I asked.

“Yes. Exactly like that.” He took the needle I offered him and spun around to kneel facing the door.

I struggled to my feet and watched from behind him as he used the knitting needle to pry the door open until it swung wide.

He glanced up at me as he stood. “We’re free.”

As relieved as I was by that fact, there was also a small part of me that felt a little sad. I had been enjoying our time together.

With one hand still holding the door open, he bent to grab the cupcake box.

“Wait one second,” I said.

He straightened and glanced at me.

“I dare you to kiss me,” I said, continuing our game.

His hand on the door dropped as I took him by surprise. He scrambled to catch it before it slammed shut and trapped us again before he glanced back at me. “Come here.”

I moved closer, the pounding of my heart loud in my own ears.

He reached out one hand and pulled me even closer. After delivering a smile that reached all the way to the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, he dipped his head low and pressed his lips to mine.

It was a good kiss. A kiss that I had a  feeling could easily go from nice to naughty in a split second.

When he pulled away, his gaze met and held mine for long enough I felt the tug of a connection between us.

“Do you, ah, wanna go get a drink with me?” he asked.

“I’d love to.” There was no hesitation. No decision to be made. I wasn’t ready to leave him yet. I wanted more time. More of everything.

“Great. I’ll drive,” he offered, not knowing I was falling in deep like with him.

Since I’d walked here from my apartment, I thought that was a good idea.

We moved through the lobby area and I glanced around again. I hadn’t had much time to study it before we’d gotten locked in the secret room.

The red of the EXIT sign above the front door, combined with the green glass of the ceiling fixtures, reminded me once again of Christmas. As casually as I could, I asked, “How long is this job going to take you?”

He joined me in glancing around the space. “I hope to be done right after the new year.”

He’d be here not only for Halloween, but also for the entire holiday season. Maybe I wasn’t dreading it so much after all.

”Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes.” I was ready for a lot of things.

He smiled again and led the way outside to an old truck that rivaled the one I’d seen on the road earlier, minus the load of hay.

I climbed up into the passenger seat, riding shotgun next to the box of cupcakes between us that were apparently also taking the trip.

He fired up the engine and pulled to the curb, flipping on the directional signal to turn left.

“Wait. Isn’t the bar this way?” I pointed to my right.

I’d only been in Mudville a few days, but I’d made it my business to look around. I’d already been in the thrift store shopping. While there, I’d bought a great Halloween sweater to wear to school and had talked to the owner, telling her if she needed holiday help, I’d be willing to work some hours over the winter break.

I’d been to the farm stand and grabbed a small pumpkin and a potted mum to brighten up the doorway of my apartment.

And I’d located the local watering hole, which happened to be attached to the liquor store. I’d needed some spiced rum to go in the apple cider I’d bought at the farm stand. But I knew, that was in the opposite direction, just over the river.

He followed my finger, then cringed. “Yes, it is, but I know a different way.”

“Oh. Okay.” I was always up for a short cut. But at only about two miles away, I didn’t think we could get much shorter than that.

When we drove for miles and many more minutes than necessary, I frowned at him. “That was not a short cut.”

He steered the truck into the parking lot and put it in park before turning to me. “Fine. It’s not. But I don’t like driving over the bridge. I have a thing about driving over water.”

A small laugh escaped me. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” He scowled and waited for my judgement.

Clowns and bridges. His phobias were stacking up and so were the checks in the ‘con’ column.

I wondered what else his gorgeous body and handsome face was hiding. Surprisingly, that thought didn’t bother me. In fact, I wanted to get to know more about him. Possibly while we were both naked.

What the—Where had that thought come from?

I moved my feet and they hit something on the floorboards. Looking down, I realized I’d kicked a box of old books. Inhaling, the scent filled my nostrils and traveled straight down to my core.

“Sorry. Those are on loan from the historical society. There are pictures in there of the hotel—”

He didn’t get to say more as I fisted his shirt and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips.

When I released him, he asked, “What was that for?”

“No reason.”

I didn’t admit books made me horny. Nor did I tell him that I needed a reminder of all his potential in the pro column. Mudd’s kisses were definitely that. A big old pro. And I had a feeling there could be an even bigger pro waiting for me later. Possibly in his bed.

“Can I see your room later?” I asked.

His brows lifted slightly before a small smile bowed his lips. “Yeah. I think that can be arranged.”

NEWSLETTER SIGNUP