The SEAL's Rebel Librarian by Anne Calhoun

Author:Anne Calhoun
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250084583
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter Six

She was lit up like a city at night, her legs wobbly on the stairs to the library’s employee entrance, feeling both inordinately proud of her motorcycle gear, and terrifyingly exposed. The helmet banged against the doorframe on her way in, making everyone seated in the shared office space look up.

So much for avoiding attention.

“What on earth?” Carol said, her eyes widening.

“Hi,” she said with a quick glance at the clock. “I’m not … I’ll tell you later, after I get changed.”

She ducked into the bathroom, banging her elbows and knees on the tiny stall as she shimmied out of the tight leathers and into her slacks. Her blouse, fortunately, was a forgiving polyester blend, but the scent of leather and sweat and skin was unmistakable. She scrubbed her fingers against her scalp to give her helmet hair some lift, then peered at herself in the mirror.

She looked like she’d just had sex. Amazing sex. Heart-pounding, multi-orgasmic sex. Same flushed cheeks and throat, same bright eyes, same obvious but inexplicable energy vibrating in her skin.

The bathroom door opened and one of the work-study students walked in, her quick gaze taking in Erin’s face and hair, the helmet at her feet, the leathers neatly folded and tucked into her backpack. “Wow. Was that, like, you I saw riding up with what’s his name, the SEAL guy who’s lurking all mysterious and broody in the psych classes?”

She should have frozen. She should have lied. They were in a relationship, which was expressly forbidden by the school’s code of conduct. She should have felt ashamed, threatened, exposed.

“Yes,” she said simply. Chin lifted, gaze direct. It wasn’t about truth or lies. It was about claiming who she was becoming. “That was me.”

The student nodded, then slung her backpack down on the floor. “Cool,” she said, and walked into a stall. Erin bolted the second the door closed, shoving her backpack and helmet under her desk, then turned to Carol. “I bought a motorcycle,” she said.

“You did?” Carol said, eyes wide.

“A Ducati Monster 696.”

“Nice bike,” Terry the bearded electronic collections librarian said, peering around from behind his wall of monitors. Erin stared at him, because in the six months he’d been working at the library, he’d said not a single word not related to the job. “New?”

“A couple of years,” she said. “It’s in the lot.”

Just like that, everyone who wasn’t working with a student crowded back through the door and down the stairs to the parking lot to cluster around Erin’s new bike.

“Wow,” Carol said.

“Who put the scratches in it?” Terry said, fingering the gouge in the paint.

“I did, about two hours ago,” Erin admitted.

“Keep the shiny side up,” he said sagely.

“Working on it.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to ride a motorcycle,” Carol said.

“I learned,” Erin said. “The state offers beginner rider courses. Some dealerships give you a discount on a bike afterwards, so the course basically pays for itself when you buy a bike.”

“What did Jason think about this?” Carol asked.

“He

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