Page 6 of Hiss and Tell (Harmony Glen #2)

Chapter Six

A spen

The market’s Saturday afternoon bustle usually energizes me, but today I’m having trouble focusing.

I’m glad Milo’s at his friend’s house for a sleepover, but it doesn’t stop me from checking my phone every few minutes.

At least Tyler’s mom understands about the library ban—her sympathetic “we all have those days” helped ease some of my shame.

“Two pounds of those lovely Empire apples, please.” One of the Saturday afternoon regulars peers at the display. “And how’s that sweet boy of yours?”

My hands move automatically, selecting the best apples while my mouth forms the expected response. “He’s great, Mrs. Lovelace. Having a sleepover with his friend Tyler.”

She beams. “Such a good mother, making sure he has friends. Not like my daughter-in-law, always too busy with her phone—”

The rest of her usual complaint fades as something catches my eye—a familiar tall figure by the organic produce.

Sebastian. Even without seeing his face, there’s no mistaking those elegant snakes or the careful way he moves through the crowd.

He’s examining the tomatoes like they hold the secrets of the universe, completely absorbed in his task.

Through the produce display, I catch glimpses of Sebastian’s browsing.

Despite his size, he moves between the stalls with surprising grace.

His snakes seem fascinated by the colorful vegetables, and I’m close enough now to hear him talking softly to them.

Three of them are larger, longer, and more interactive than the rest.

“Evangeline, strawberries aren’t on the shopping list,” and “Nelson, yes, those tomatoes are a better deal.” The third snake, apparently named Archie based on Sebastian’s gentle chiding about “scholarly overthinking,” appears to be examining ingredients with the intensity of a food critic.

Even from here, I notice how many other shoppers give Sebastian a wide berth, though Mrs. Hancock waves cheerfully as she passes, and the teenage cashier gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

When old Mr. Jenkins struggles with his heavy bag of apples, Sebastian steps in smoothly.

His massive hands, which could easily crush the fruit, cradle the bag with exquisite care.

Something in my chest tightens watching him chat with the elderly man, his head bent attentively despite having to stoop.

He doesn’t look my way, doesn’t know I’m watching, which makes his kindness all the more striking. No performance, just natural consideration that makes my initial fear of him seem ridiculous.

“That one’s different,” Mrs. Lovelace comments, following my gaze. “Always helping folks, never making a fuss about it. Shame how some people only see the snakes.”

My cheeks heat because I’ve been caught staring.

But before I can respond, I reach for the best-looking tomato at the same time Sebastian does.

Our hands brush, and the same electric spark from our earlier conversations shoots up my arm.

Startled, Sebastian jerks back—directly into the carefully stacked orange display.

“Oh no,” he mutters as oranges cascade across the ground in all directions. His snakes writhe in embarrassment as shoppers turn to stare. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, kneeling to help gather the scattered fruit. “These things happen.”

“Not to me they don’t,” he says, his voice rough with mortification. “I don’t usually…” He trails off, crouching beside me to collect oranges, careful not to let our hands touch again.

After we’ve restored the display and he’s apologized to the vendor three times, Sebastian looks thoroughly flustered.

“Mrs. Lovelace, would you excuse me for just a moment?” I ask the older woman who watched the orange debacle with barely contained amusement.

“Certainly.”

Sebastian looks different outside the library, less institutional in dark jeans and a soft gray sweater that does nothing to hide his impressive build.

“Well, that was awkward, Ms. Walker.” His voice carries that familiar gentle authority, but if I didn’t know better, I’d think his green skin was… blushing? “I hope you’re well.”

“Please let Milo come back to storytime.”

Holy crap! Did those words just burst out of my mouth?

Before I even said hello? I’ve completely lost my mind.

Heat floods my cheeks, but I might as well press on.

“I’m sorry. Hello, how are you? Let me apologize again for my unforgivable, inexcusable…

Can he come with Tyler’s mom, or my neighbor Orie Darkwalker who runs the store under my apartment?

I’ll stay away completely, I swear. He just…

he needs that space. Especially now, with his dad being a complete no-show… ”

My voice cracks embarrassingly. Sebastian’s snakes weave restlessly. Is it my imagination, or do they look distressed?

“The policy is very clear about guardian supervision for children under six,” he says softly. “I wish…”

“There has to be something.” Pride’s a luxury I can’t afford, not with the way Milo has been struggling with both Derek’s latest disappointment and losing his favorite place. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

His eyes widen slightly at that, and one of his snakes actually freezes mid-motion. Then, so quietly I almost miss it: “Anything?”

Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking? Is nice Mr. Sebastian thinking of taking this favor out… in trade?

“Within reason and legal limits,” I clarify quickly. “And nothing involving glitter. I’m still finding it in Milo’s hair from his last preschool craft project.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Would you… that is… my neighbors are trying to set me up on dates. They’re very persistent.

And elderly. And they have phones with zoom lenses.

And take pictures of me doing things like helping other neighbors with groceries.

And they want me to swipe right and left, which I have no desire to do.

But… but they ambush me on a regular basis and…

” His eyes are wide and his mouth keeps working but no words are coming out.

“They’re behavior is escalating, and it’s intrusive, and—”

It takes a moment to connect the dots. “Are you asking me to pretend to date you?”

“It’s a terrible idea.” His snakes all nod in vigorous agreement. “Forget I mentioned—”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll fake date you.” The words come easier than they should. “If Milo can come back to storytime.”

“I…” He glances around, then lowers his voice. “I can’t promise anything, but after seeing how upset Milo was about missing storytime, I spent last night reading through the library bylaws. According to policy, the ban applies to disruptive public behavior.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice to a more confidential tone. I have no idea why that makes me want to lean in to smell him better.

“However, there’s a provision that allows for special consideration in cases involving library staff or their families.

If we were… seeing each other, your incident would be reclassified as a personal matter rather than a public disruption.

The disciplinary committee would likely reduce the ban significantly. ”

He stops, as though his offer is complete, then hastens to add, “Though,” he cautions, palms toward me as though trying to stop a speeding freight train, “no guarantees implied or intended.”

My heart leaps. “That’s perfect! When do we start?”

“Now?” The word seems to surprise him as much as me. “I mean, on your next break… or when you’re off. There’s a coffee shop around the corner. We should discuss the details.”

“I’m allowed a thirty-minute break. I can take it now.” My tone is so eager that I sound desperate.

The tomato in his hand looks ready to burst from his nervous grip. “Maybe put that down first?”

He blinks at the squished vegetable like he’s never seen it before. “Right. Yes. Good idea.”

His presence beside me feels both thrilling and comforting, like finding something I didn’t know I was missing.

As we walk, every time his arm accidentally brushes mine, a small thrill runs through me, and I find myself wanting to close the careful gap he maintains.

The scent of him—something like old books and fresh cedar with a hint of something spicy—makes me want to lean closer.

People definitely notice; Sebastian tends to draw attention, but their glances hold more curiosity than judgment. Sebastian keeps a careful distance between us, like he’s afraid of crowding me. It’s sweet, if unnecessary.

“So,” I venture as we claim a small table at the coffee shop, “what exactly do your neighbors expect from your dating life?”

“Everything.” He somehow makes his massive frame smaller in the dainty café chair. “In their minds, they’ve fast-forwarded twenty years and have mentioned they want babies to spoil. Which is… I mean, not that we would… this isn’t…”

“Breathe.” The blush creeping up his neck shouldn’t be so endearing. “Let’s start smaller. How about a walk by the lake tomorrow? Very public, very romantic-looking, but totally casual.”

His snakes perk up noticeably. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The words come out too fast, too honest. “I mean, for Milo’s sake. And your neighbors sound scary.”

“Terrifying,” he agrees solemnly. “Mabel makes stress-baking look like a combat sport.”

My laugh bubbles up unexpectedly, real. When was the last time someone made me laugh like this? “Tomorrow then? Around two?”

“Tomorrow.” He stands, nearly bumping the table in his haste. “I should let you get back to work. And I need to… buy tomatoes. Er, different tomatoes.”

He pauses, then his eyes flare wide. “I just replayed my proposition… er… suggestion… and I think I may have made this sound like a quid pro quo. Uh, you had to fake date me in order for me to try to get the ban reduced. Let me assure you—”

“Sebastian?”

He pauses, and something about seeing him in the sunlight streaming through the window makes my breath stutter.

The light catches his snakes’ scales in a way that makes them seem almost molten, like living copper wire threaded through dark silk.

They react to his emotions in real time—I can see them subtly rising and swaying as his mood shifts, some stretching toward the warmth of the sun while others curl protectively around his shoulders.

It’s mesmerizing, this crown of serpentine life that responds to his every feeling.

“Thank you for offering. I realize I don’t need to help you in order for you to help me, but I’m happy to, really. Besides, you’ve been so good with Milo. He really loves storytime.”

“He’s a great kid.” His smile transforms his whole face. “He gets that from his mother.”

The warmth in my chest definitely isn’t just gratitude. And the flutter in my stomach when he glances back from the door isn’t just relief about the library.

This fake dating thing might be more dangerous than I thought.