Page 72 of Wicked Pickle

Students stream out onto the lawn. It’s time to move to the next class.

“Bring a list of your skills and work history on Thursday,” I tell the others. “We’ll put them together. Make sure you write a couple of profs to request references.”

“Good plan,” Mina says. “Let’s get in there and see what spooked so many people.”

“Probably vampires,” Billy says.

Mina shoves his leg with her foot. “Are you in?”

“I’m in.” He overs his face with his hat again.

Mina stands. “I have class. See you all Thursday.”

I get up, too. Time to go to the library.

As I cross the student parking lot, I spot Jenna heading to her Tuesday class.

“Hey!” she says. “Want to grab some coffee later? I already finished my notes on the essay for tomorrow.”

I haven’t read it yet. “Sure. Maybe on the later side?” I need time for Diesel at the libraryandto read the essay myself.

“Sure. Like six?”

“Sounds great.” I quickly unlock my car and duck in before she can ask where I’m headed. She doesn’t know about the library, and I don’t want to explain myself right now.

For one thing, I don’t know what I’m doing.

But then several key parts of my body heat up, and I remember exactly what I’m doing this for.

When I park in front of the tall stone building, I’m about to get out when I remember my panties.

I glance around. I’m between two empty cars, and no one is walking along the sidewalk in front of me.

“The things I do for sex,” I mutter, lifting my hips to scoot the panties down my legs. I stuff them in the center console. I’ll have to buy more skirts at this rate. I don’t wear them often enough to have a whole stash of options for meeting Diesel.

“Maybe this will be the last time,” I tell the windshield as I pull my small purse from the backpack and shove the larger bag down in the footwell.

But I haven’t taken three steps toward the entrance to the library before I’ve already started laughing to myself.

There’s no way I’m giving up Diesel any time soon.

CHAPTER 24

DIESEL

Ionly have one thing on my mind when I pull up to the library Symphony told me about—feeling her body clench around my hand.

A place like this is going to be a quickie by design. I joked with Merrick this morning when we picked up some kegs that he might want to make sure he has bail money handy.

He just shook his head. But he’ll come through. A little public indecency never hurt a bar owner’s career. It might actually draw more people to the Leaky Skull, given our clientele. I’d probably run into some of them during booking.

I take the concrete steps two at a time, almost roaring at the stone lions lounging on either side. I feel like an animal on the prowl, ready to partake in the most basic of carnal acts.

But stepping inside is like rolling back two decades of my life.

It’s the smell of the place, the stacks in neat rows, and the sprawl of people in chairs, books in hand. It hits me in a long-lost place. Childhood. Parents. Before skipping town, joining the Army, the desert tours.

I’m ten, following my mom inside the library in our hometown. She’s taking Greta and Sunny to a baby story time.Merrick and I are allowed to wander the stacks and pick out books.