I filed the books, then came out of the stacks, passing the tables where flight school students studied. Fort Rucker, the home of army aviation, was a high-pressure environment. Flyboys who wanted wings had to pass flight school here. That girl in the corner looked particularly stressed out, so I passed her the snack-size Skittles package I’d had in my pocket. “Sugar always helps,” I whispered with a wink.
She smiled in gratitude, and I headed back to the desk, taking the small stairs in a couple strides. “Ah, there she is!” Alice’s voice was abnormally high-pitched and overly sweet.
Coming around the corner, I smacked right into the reason. Hands steadied me, thank goodness, because once those electric-blue eyes met mine, gravity ceased to exist. “Jagger?” Oh, no, did that come out breathless?
His eyes widened before a smile lit up his face. “Paisley?”
I opened and shut my mouth, blinking rapidly as I struggled to find a coherent thought. I must have looked like a fish out of water. My breath hitched, and my lips tingled. I hadn’t imagined the effect he’d had on me in Florida; it was real.
This was not good.
“Hey, you know her?” a guy behind him asked.
Jagger’s eyes swept over me. “You could say that.”
I had to get some distance. The dark jeans and worn Harley-Davidson tee weren’t a big enough barrier for me when he stood this close. I moved back, but luckily his hands were still locked on my forearms, keeping me from falling down the steps. “Whoa. I’d rather avoid the doctor this time.”
My breath expelled in light laughter. He pivoted away from the staircase, and I retreated. With space between us, I could breathe again.
“You going to introduce us, or just stare at her?” the guy asked again.
“Shut the hell up, Walker.” Jagger tore his eyes away from mine. “Paisley, this is Josh Walker.”
Josh nodded at me. He was maybe an inch taller, with a gorgeous face and killer smile, but nothing like Jagger’s. Then again, I wasn’t sure anyone was made like Jagger. No. No. No. Don’t think like that!
“And that”—Jagger pointed to another guy behind them—“is Grayson Masters.” Grayson gave me a miniscule wave with no smile in his gray eyes. He was slightly shorter than Jagger but built like he could charge down a bull, or maybe lift one.
“They’re here for your back-door project, dear,” Alice whispered loud enough for the entire floor of the library to hear.
Jagger, God bless him, didn’t laugh, but a simple glance showed the sparkle in his eyes and a bitten lip. I wanted to bite that lip. You’re so going to hell if you don’t knock this off, Paisley Lynn. “She means clear a path to the back door. Of the library. Right.” I hurried past that statement before it could get any more awkward. “The room is a mess.” I blinked at him, nothing better to say.
“No problem, we’re happy to help,” Jagger answered.
“We are?” Grayson asked.
“We are.”
“So, you live here?” I spit out, trying to hold on to a coherent thought.
His smile flipped my stomach. “I do.”
I swallowed. “And you work construction?” That would explain the cut muscles.
He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “At the moment it seems so, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I pulled the edges of my black cardigan across my midsection. It was usually cool in the library, despite the sweltering Alabama heat, but I needed more layers than the cashmere to protect me from the energy pouring off him. “Okay.” Okay? Mercy, think of something, anything better to say!
“Show us the way?”
I forced a smile with closed lips and led the way past the tables of studying students, through the quiet stacks, past the small alcoves and the meeting rooms, to the room with the sign reading authorized personnel only. I pushed the door open and flipped the light switch. The strong smells of dust and paper permeated the air.
“Whoa.” Jagger slid in behind me, making room for the other two.
“Exactly.” Ceiling-high boxes cluttered the room and left no direct path to the hidden back door. The room was a good size, easily thirty by twenty feet, but we couldn’t even see the walls.
“This is not a one-day thing,” Josh muttered.
“This isn’t a one-week thing,” Grayson agreed. “Not with our schedule. We can’t even get started for three weeks.”
Jagger ran the stud in his tongue along his teeth. That thing was so unbelievably sexy. “What do you need done, Paisley?”
Snap out of it! “What do I need done? Or what do I want done?”
He leaned against the one cleared section of wall, folding his arms across his chest. One of his tattoos peeked out along his bicep. I had to get out of this room and away from him.
“Both.”
Concentrate. I surveyed the absolute chaos. “I need a path cleared to the back door at least. We’d never pass code this way, and I know an inspection is coming. But what I’d want?” I pointed to the walls. “Shelves built and installed there. A workstation there to receive new orders. More shelves built and installed there and there to handle the overflow, and a central space for repair.”
Jagger lifted one of the boxes. “Damn, these things are heavy.”
“Well, books usually are.”
He laughed and set it down. “We’ll need to know where all of these things go once the shelves are up.”