The Deputy's Perfect Match

“Okay, then. Because that’s what I’m about.” Her cheeks reddened. “As a librarian, I mean.” She reached for the ticket.

He was a split-second quicker.

“This is supposed to be dutch treat,” she protested.

“Next time you can treat me.”

Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “Next time?”

“There’s next week’s book selection. I may need more tutoring.” He smiled. “By the way, what is next week’s Jane Austen book club pick?”

“You’re in for a treat.”

He got a sinking feeling.

“Another classic, Sense and Sensibility.” She batted those fabulous blue eyes at him. “You’ll have fun explaining to the group which you like better.”

Charlie slid out of the booth, the bill in his hand. “From your tone it sounds as if you’re assuming I won’t like Sense and Whatever.”

She scrambled after him. “My point, I believe.”

“Forget male pride. It’s your own female prejudice that makes you think guys can’t enjoy Jane Austen.” He laughed. “Did you catch what I did there?” He stuck his thumbs into his duty belt. “Pride...and prejudice...”

The staid librarian rolled her eyes.

“And there’s one other reason guys should read Jane Austen.”

She reached for her purse. “What’s that?”

He stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth. “It proves men and women can be friends.”

She planted her hand on her hip. “You got that from Pride and Prejudice?”

He twirled the toothpick between his thumb and index finger. “I think underneath the witty banter, the reason the chemistry worked between Elizabeth and Darcy was because they valued each other as friends first and foremost.”

Charlie shuffled his feet. “Maybe we can be friends, Miss Shaw.”

She tilted her head. “You think because I’m new here, I don’t have any friends?”

He remained silent, caught by the blond tips of her ponytail brushing across her shoulders.

She grimaced. “You wouldn’t be far wrong.” She extended her hand. “Call me Evy.”

He reached for her hand. “Evy it is.”

And she snatched the bill from him. With a triumphant glance over her shoulder, she marched toward the register. Where she proceeded to pay for both their meals while conducting a conversation with the cashier in a tongue he presumed to be Mandarin or Cantonese.

Middle English. Probably French. And now Mandarin?

Charlie held the door for her as they exited and shook his head.

Wow...not only out of his league. More like out of his galaxy.

Clapping his hat onto his head, he escorted her to the parking lot.

She dug through her purse, searching for her keys. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“A Southern gentleman always waits. And it’s been fun.” Surprised, he realized it had been fun. With no urgent call from Dispatch, he found himself wishing dinner hadn’t had to end.

Finding her key ring, she held it up for him to see. “I look forward to hearing more of your Jane Austen insights at book club.”

“You and me both.”

She laughed.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “What I meant to say was, I look forward to seeing you Thursday, too.”

And he did. He’d not imagined the quiet librarian would be such good company. Or so entertaining. She was easy to be with. Despite her enormous brain, Evy Shaw wasn’t pretentious.

Clicking the key fob, she unlocked her car and got inside. With a small backhanded wave, she pulled out of the parking lot and drove off into the sunset. He watched her taillights turn south on Highway 13 toward Miss Pauline’s.

What was the elusive Evy Shaw after here in good ole Kiptohanock? But recon mission accomplished, he’d managed to learn enough background to call on one of his PI buddies from California who owed Charlie a favor.

His shoulder mic squawked. He responded and jogged toward his cruiser. As he headed to investigate a reported prowler, he reflected that his unofficial undercover assignment might not be so unpleasant after all.

Who’d have guessed Jane Austen could grow on a guy?

Chapter Three (#u6f0a5ef2-927d-5532-b3fc-df6b4b7d699b)

Getting ready for book club on Thursday night, Evy glanced at the clock more than once. And for the fifth time, she made a minute adjustment to the way the tablecloth hung on the refreshment table. As if Charlie Pruitt would care.

The ladies—if not Charles Everett Pruitt the Third—should have been here by now. Everyone must be running late.

She plucked a pillow from the sofa in the circle of armchairs. Despite their tête-à-tête over Chinese food, she didn’t think Charlie would actually show up to book club. But as she counted down the minutes, the dread—and anticipation—mounted. Her gaze flitted to the clock again.

Evy’s parents had no idea what she was up to when she accepted the librarian position. Would never have envisioned their timid Evy bold enough to seek out answers to long-held questions. Would have been shocked and amazed—not to mention dismayed—at her covert attempts to learn the truth. Evy had shocked herself with her uncharacteristic behavior.

Pacing, she punched the pillow with her fist. This was so ridiculous. So high school, so—

“Hey, Evy.”

She yelped and whirled. The pillow plopped onto the rug.

Arms folded across his uniformed chest, Charlie leaned against the threshold of the meeting room tucked behind the library staircase. Minus the hat for once, he grinned at her.

Her heart did a funny sort of cartwheel, so she scowled at him. She bent to retrieve the pillow at the same moment Charlie—

Their foreheads collided. She fell onto the sofa. He ricocheted into the wall.