Page 11 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

PRIMROSE

M y basket loaded with books, scrolls, and journals full of sketches, I set off the next morning for Moonshine Hollow Library full of determination.

I hadn’t won best overalls.

I had to dance with Kevin— twice more.

And my mother had talked about Juniper’s herb shop all the way home, loudly articulating how wonderful Juniper’s real business was, how much actual good her magic did for people, and how her shopfront was perfect for serious businesswomen.

I’d said nothing, merely wished I’d spent more time with Granik at the ale cart.

But this morning, none of that mattered.

It didn’t matter if my only romantic prospect was Kevin. It didn’t matter if my mother saw me as a whimsical failure. All that mattered was convincing that inconvincible gargoyle that we were going to have a party—whether he liked it or not.

After a quick stop by The Sconery, picking up my secret weapons for persuasion, I made my way to the library. Bracing myself for battle, I climbed the front steps and stepped inside, the cool, dark space swallowing me in its usual hush.

Izelda looked up when I entered.

She gave me a smile. “Hi, Primrose,” she said. “Back to do battle?”

“We are having our birthday party, whether he wants it or not. But…any tips on how to handle him?”

Izelda laughed. “Me? I stay out of his way, and we get along just fine. You’re headed into the belly of the beast. All I can do is wish you luck.”

At that, I chuckled. “Then, I best get on with it,” I said, turning and making my way toward the gargoyle’s office.

“It will be locked,” Izelda called behind me. “He won’t let you in.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Feeling determined, I made my way to Master Erasmus’s study and knocked gently on the door.

No answer.

Not deterred, I knocked again.

“I’m busy.”

“Master Erasmus, I’m here to talk about the party.”

No answer.

“Master Erasmus?”

No reply.

Frowning, I knocked louder.

“I told you no. Now, go away. I’m busy,” he replied in a grumble.

I rapped louder. “I’m not going away, and you can’t hide forever. Open the door so we can discuss this.”

A moment later, the door lock clicked and the door creaked open.

Without waiting for an invitation, I strode inside and plopped my basket on the nearest flat surface.

Erasmus, who was hunched over his desk working, turned and looked at me in surprise. “What are you…? How did you…?”

“Excellent. Thank you,” I said sweetly. “Now, let’s talk about the party. It’s happening, so you can either give input, or I’ll do it exactly the way I want, including,” I said, holding up a sketch, “hiring an apprentice wizard to conjure elemental familiars for the children.”

“We are not having balloon animals in the library,” he snapped, rising. “And how did you get in here?”

“They’re not balloon animals, they’re elemental familiars. They vanish at sunrise.”

“I said no.”

“It’s just a little sparkle. Books like sparkle.”

“Books like wide margins and proper bindings.”

“Parties like sparkle. And we’re having one.”

“We are not. One of the bookwyrm pairs is nesting. I won’t risk egg damage because someone gets too curious.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Do you even know the people in this town? No one here would disrupt nesting bookwyrms. We revere them.”

He huffed.

I pulled out a scroll. “Fine. Plan B, then. Less-disruptive layout. Tents in the garden. Wine and canapes on the veranda out back overlooking the reflecting pool. Here,” I said, holding out my notebook with my copious notes and sketches.

He waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t need to see that. This is all…frivolity, a glitter-storm with no substance.”

Ouch. That one landed.

For a breath, I stood still, burning quietly inside. “You know what?” I snapped. “Just because it’s not some ancient, esoteric, antiquated thing doesn’t make it meaningless.”

He blinked at me. For a second, there was something vulnerable in his gaze, but then it was gone.

Before either of us could say more, a sharp snort interrupted us.

Stevenson, the red-scaled bookwyrm, climbed onto the table and peered at my sketches. He trilled lightly in approval then gave Erasmus a look that could char parchment.

Turning from the infuriating gargoyle, I smiled at the bookwyrm. “I thought I might see you again. Okay, you tell me,” I said, flipping my notebook to two potential layouts. “Three-tiered cake or a cupcake display?” I asked, showing him the model displays. “Which do you like?”

The bookwyrm considered a moment, then puffed a small curl of smoke at the sketch with cupcakes.

“Good choice,” I said. “Now, we must decide on flavor,” I added, pulling out the box of samples from The Sconery.

“I was thinking something classic,” I said, giving the gargoyle a hard look over my shoulder as I chatted with the bookwyrm.

“Strawberry cake with lemon frosting, warm spice cake with apple frosting, or earthy carrot cake with cream cheese?” I asked, setting three silver-foil-wrapped mini cupcakes before the bookwyrm.

Stevenson tasted each delicately, chewing with consideration, then gestured to the spice cupcake with a decisive chuff.

“Excellent choice. I thought that one too. Spice pairs better with wines, and apples are good for late summer.”

The bookwyrm’s ears twitched happily at my words of encouragement. Then, as if the meeting were concluded, he took the rest of the sample box and slipped out of the study.

I chuckled at him then turned back at Erasmus, fixing him with a hard look. “See, that was not so hard. You’re worried about the bookwyrms, but they’re being more helpful than you are. We’re settled. Spice cupcakes.”

“That was a cheat.”

“What was?”

“Summoning allies mid-argument.”

“Are we having an argument? I thought we were having a discussion. And Stevenson has excellent taste.”

Erasmus stepped closer, looming over me with winged authority. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very frustrating, Miss Windsong?”

“Only my mother. Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too stubborn for your own good, Master Erasmus?”

He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine.

“Once or twice,” he said, the hint of a smile lifting one corner of his lips.

This close, I could smell the subtle scents of parchment, sage, and leather that clung to his hair and clothes.

His golden eyes glimmered with something between fury and excitement.

“Do you think only sparkle makes something meaningful?” he asked as he studied my face with an intensity that made my heart beat a little faster.

“No,” I replied, “but life doesn’t have to be cold and joyless.”

“You think I’m cold and joyless?”

“Joyless, for sure.”

“Rude and ancient, right?”

“Rude, definitely.”

“So, you think I’m cold, Miss Windsong?” he asked, drawing closer to me, his heat radiating from him, his eyes fixed on mine.

My heart pounded in my chest. “Well, I…”

“I’ll show you cold,” he replied, then leaned in and kissed me like he’d been holding it back through every scowl and eye roll.

My breath caught. His hand found my waist, and he pulled me toward him, my body pressing against his.

It was messy and wrong and so, so perfect.

His lips were surprisingly warm, his mouth tinged with the subtle notes of morning tea.

His kiss was soft, but fierce, like he couldn’t decide whether to devour or pull away.

His heady, masculine scent was intoxicating.

My whole body came alive with heat, and my heart slammed in my chest. My hands found his chest…

solid, immovable, infuriating, and oh so intoxicating.

Around us, the sconces flared slightly brighter. A scroll fluttered open and closed. The ancient bookwyrm who had been sleeping on a stool nearby let out a humph , like it was scandalized.

At the sound, Erasmus broke away.

“What the…” he whispered. “What’s wrong with me?”

I didn’t know whether to slap him or kiss him again.

“Wrong with you?” I asked, my heart thumping. “What do you…?”

But before I could finish my thought, a delighted trill pierced the silence.

A female bookwyrm zipped into the room, golden scales flashing. She flew quickly around the room, scanning the space. A moment later, a larger, sapphire-blue bookwyrm entered behind her. He surveyed the room frantically, as if searching for something important.

“What now?” Erasmus groaned, stepping back.

The blue bookwyrm’s eyes went wide, and he dove straight into my basket. A moment later, he emerged tangled in silver ribbon with a silver spoon in his mouth.

“Hawthorne,” Erasmus said warningly. “No.”

“What is—” I began, but the thought was lost.

With a triumphant squeak, the bookwyrm grabbed the basket by the handle and launched into the air, the female following excitedly behind him, chirping triumphantly.

They flashed past me so fast that I stumbled right into Erasmus.

He caught me gently.

I clutched his muscular arm, trying to right myself once more.

“Miss Windsong,” he said again, voice lower now, steadier.

I looked up at him, meeting his heated gaze.

In the moment, two thoughts warred within me. I had kissed the gargoyle and?—

“Oh no,” I exclaimed. “That basket has my planner for the whole year. My booking calendar. My finances ledger. My notes. My entire business is in there!”

Erasmus nodded once. “Let’s go.”

We rushed from the room, chasing after the renegade bookwyrms, and for the moment, setting aside whatever that unexpected kiss had meant.