Page 3 of Cuckoo (Devil’s Murder MC #7)

“ W hat subject are you researching?” I asked, lowering to a squat as I brought my eyes level with the petite third grader who came to the library with her class for the morning.

“Um, pandas.”

“Oh, I love panda bears. Don’t you?”

The girl nodded as her long, dark brown braids slipped over her shoulders. She smiled, a bit shy but also enthusiastic.

“I can help with that. What’s your name?”

“Emaley.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name. I’m Katrina. Would you like help finding out more about pandas?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know they live in China?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s far away.”

“It is,” I confirmed. “Pandas are special.”

“They’re my favorite,” Emaley confided.

“Then let’s see what books we have available for you to check out.”

“Pandas poop all day.”

I turned to the boy who joined us, blurting the words before grinning at Emaley.

“No, they don’t poop all day. That’s too much,” she argued.

“They poop forty times a day! I know. I saw it on the National Geographic show.”

Emaley stuck out her tongue. “Go away, Lucas.”

“It’s true. Ask the librarian lady.”

Emaley stared up at me, reaching for my hand. “Do pandas poop that much?”

“They do,” I admitted. “It’s because of all the bamboo they eat.”

Lucas’s smile widened. “See.”

She glared in his direction. “You’re not very nice.”

He didn’t seem upset by her observation. “I can be nice. I’ll show you books on pandas.”

“You have to research too.”

“I will. After we find your panda books.”

Emaley scrunched her nose. “Fine.” She released my hand. “If you make me mad, I’ll flush your lunch down the toilet.”

Damn. What a violent little thing.

Lucas shrugged. “I won’t.” He held out his hand. “Come on.”

Emaley took it, letting him lead her toward the comic book section. I suppressed a laugh, knowing Lucas would be missing his lunch later today. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d mind. That boy liked Emaley enough to go hungry. It was sort of sweet.

I wasn’t any expert on men, but I could see by the way Lucas stared at Emaley, nearly hanging on her every word, that he wanted more than friendship. What did that mean when you were eight years old? Not a lot, but it was still cute.

It reminded me of one of my favorite book tropes.

Childhood sweethearts and friends to lovers were my jam.

I loved to read and have loved it ever since I was a little girl.

My favorite stories were fantasy and romance.

When you added them together, like the growing popularity of romantasy, it was usually a book I couldn’t put down.

I had the perfect job, conducive to my obsession with books.

Working in a library was a dream come true for a shy girl who lost her parents far too young and ended up bouncing around foster homes before I was finally adopted.

Some of those memories were dark and painful, so I pushed them away, smiling at the elementary class students as they worked on their animal reports.

Our library served most of the northern section of Henderson, Nevada.

With a population of over three hundred thousand, it boasted low crime, great schools, and a close proximity to Las Vegas without having to live too close to the Strip.

The suburban life with all the amenities of a bustling city plus access to Hoover Dam and extensive outdoor recreation.

But Me? I never took much advantage of that.

I wasn’t an outdoorsy girl. Sure, I loved a cold dip in the pool on a hot day or a short hike through a local park.

Those activities didn’t take up my whole evening or weekend.

Curling up with a good book, a cup of hot or iced tea, and my porch swing was all I needed to be happy.

By the time the third-grade class left, I had a mess to clean up.

I didn’t mind. It was my job and what I got paid to do.

Since I took pride in my organizational skills and providing efficient access to the public, I felt it was my duty to sort and reshelve the books and ensure they were all tucked back into their proper place.

When the next round of students arrived, they would find what they were looking for without hassle.

By the time my shift ended, I had emptied the return bin and cleaned up the circulation desk.

The self-checkout areas were clear of clutter, and I picked up a few stray items to add to the lost and found we kept in the storage room.

If anyone came to look for something later, we could bring out the containers and let them dig through the clothing, electronics, etc. , to find what they left behind.

Most of the time, people were honest. We had very little cause for concern.

No one usually lost their shit at the library.

The only issue arose from overdue fees, which were out of my control.

Librarians didn’t place those fines on books and other media, but we did have to enforce them.

I couldn’t remove the penalties. People had to pay them, and they were minimal most of the time.

“Hey, Katrina, are you heading out?”

I turned to my co-worker, Elizabeth. We called her Lizzie after her favorite character in literature, Lizzie Bennett. Who wasn’t a Jane Austen fan? I had my own rare collection of her books on my shelves at home. “Yep. You coming?”

Lizzie nodded. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

“You must be excited,” I guessed from the way she nearly bounced on her feet as she approached.

“I am. Victor is sweet, charming, and just the type of guy I’ll kiss on the first date.”

I smirked. “He sounds awesome.”

“Oh, I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow.”

I didn’t doubt it. “I hope you have a great time.”

We left through the rear entrance, walking onto the hot asphalt as the sun began its descent in the sky. Shades of marigold and bright orange shot across the horizon with few clouds to block the beautiful rays. It was the type of sunset that was perfect to enjoy with a lover.

Not everything needs to be a swoon-worthy romance novel moment , I reminded myself.

Still, with what I did for a living and my obsession with books, it made sense that my head was often filled with romantic notions and daydreams of the perfect male. It couldn’t be helped. Maybe someday I would meet my knight in shining armor.

But I doubted he would ever walk into my library.

Lizzie waved as she opened her car door. “See you next week!”

I watched her start the engine and drive off, nearly speeding as she merged onto the street and zoomed through the yellow light. The intersection by the library was a busy one, and it was rush hour. She really took a risk, but if I had someone to rush home to, I’d do the same.

I walked to my cute gunmetal gray Chevy Trax, noting it was the perfect size for me and met all my needs.

I liked a smaller, more manageable vehicle, and it had all the amenities.

I got it for a steal last year when I traded in my decade-old Dodge.

It might not be the most amazing car on the road, but I was thrilled to finally drive something new.

By the time I drove up my driveway and parked under the carport, the sun glittered on the horizon, casting everything in its wondrous shimmer.

It was too pretty not to sit and watch from my porch swing, so I grabbed a big glass, dropped in a few cubes of ice, filled it with lemon and sweet tea, and parked my weary bottom on the seat.

I stayed long after the sun faded and the sky began to populate with bright, twinkling stars.

Gently rocking, I enjoyed the quiet neighborhood as people headed indoors and retired for the evening.

I’d long ago finished my tea and set the glass on the nearest table.

Sinking into the cushions, I relaxed as the hustle of the day finally disappeared, and I could take in the pale glow of the fairy lights strung up around my porch in peace, the only illumination other than the moon and her starry companions.

If only I had someone to share this with , I lamented in my head. Maybe I should try a few dating apps again.

I doubted they improved since I deleted them, finding few I could match with that weren’t looking for a hook up.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call, and I picked it up, glancing at the screen. My adopted mom, Sabrina. She was a sweet lady, and I felt lucky to have her in my life.

“Hi,” I answered as I swiped right. “You’re calling late.”

“Hey, sweetie. Just thinking of you.”

Aw, I loved hearing that. “I feel special now.”

“As you should.” I could almost hear her smile it was so big on the other end of the line. “So, I’ve got a dinner this weekend.”

Uh-huh. There it was. The real reason she called me.

“Yes?”

“I’ve invited a few friends. You should come.”

“Sabrina,” I began, guessing she decided to hook me up with a potential date again. It was the third time in six months. “I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“Honey, I know that’s not true.”

“Okay. I’m not interested in dating anyone you introduce to me,” I clarified. It sounded harsh, but the last two times were a disaster. She didn’t have a clue about what type of man I was attracted to or what I looked for in a guy.

“Your standards are too high,” she complained. “If you would just open yourself to the possibility.”

“Sabrina, my answer is no.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’m just looking out for you. I know you’re lonely.” She sniffled, and I felt guilty. “Could you maybe reconsider?”

I sighed. “Not this weekend.”

“Alright. I’ll move the dinner to next weekend. Okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’ll come?”

If I didn’t, she’d just keep trying. “Yes, but this is the last time. You need to agree. No more setting me up after this.”

“I can agree to that.”

Good.

“Just so you know, I still think you’re special. Every single day. I thought so the first time we met you with your pretty brown hair in braids and your little glasses perched on your button nose.” Her voice cracked. “I just want to be in your life, honey. I need to know you’re happy.”

“I know. I appreciate that, Sabrina.”

Twelve years after the adoption, I still couldn’t call her mom. I wasn’t sure of the reason. Maybe it was because I’d been so close to my birth mother before she died. Even at five years old, I remembered her smile, the scent of her floral perfume, and her soft Soprano voice as she sang to me.

Sabrina was the opposite of that memory, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about her. I adored her, even when she was being a pain in the ass. Like now.

“I’ll see you soon. Love you, Kat.”

Kat. I hated my name being shortened. Sabrina never seemed to remember. “Love you too.”

The call ended, and I closed my eyes. I was glad that tomorrow was Saturday.

I could sleep in and forget about work for a couple of days.

One of the perks of my position and seniority was that I had the freedom to work the shift I wanted and avoid weekends.

I still had to work one weekend shift a month, but the tradeoff was worth it.

I became a librarian during my senior year in college. The city hired me before I even had my diploma. Five years later, I had no intention of ever leaving. Being a librarian was the one thing in my life that felt perfect.

There might have been some truth in what Sabrina said.

I was a bit lonely. Perhaps I was a little envious of Lizzie and her date, too.

But all of the heartache in my past helped to erect a barrier I wasn’t sure I could ever break down.

Worse, I didn’t think I wanted to be rid of it.

There was something to be said about a safety net.

Or, in my case, a solid and heavy safety wall.

Pushing off the swing, I decided to head inside for the night. After all, I had episodes of a certain vampire show to watch, even if I liked the books more.