IT WAS A BAD start to a new job.
As a male librarian, Gabe knew the drill. He’d be a novelty at first, but that would wear off really quickly, and then his job was to work hard and not be an asshole. The biggest mistake he could make was to walk into an established library and announce that he’d arrived to save the place.
Unfortunately, his new boss had already done that for him. Not only had she sprung Gabe on his new coworkers as a surprise, but she’d announced right away that he’d been hired to shake things up and bring the small library into the twenty-first century.
Not ideal, but Gabe had smiled his way through the first day and done his best not to step on any toes. It had been immediately clear that Lauren Foster was the woman the other librarians looked to for guidance. Jean-Marie might have been the boss, but Lauren was the leader, so Gabe had deferred to her. When she’d asked him about his plans for ebook lending, he’d held his opinions and instead asked about the library’s experience with ebooks so far. He had only a year here, but that didn’t mean he could jump in and start tearing things apart as if nobody else’s work meant anything.
A year. He’d come to Jackson to live his dream life for one year, and he’d planned on spending every possible moment outside, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight. Lauren had invited him to go out with the rest of the library staff, and he damn sure wasn’t going to turn down an offer like that on his first day. It was some sort of special event involving that girl from New York City and a martini bar. The worst possible way to spend an evening, as far as he could tell, but it was a great opportunity to bond with his new coworkers. He’d told Lauren he’d meet them at the bar by eight and he’d clocked out.
Gabe had no idea what the dress code was for a martini bar in Wyoming, but his work clothes would have to do, because he didn’t have time to change. He’d finally found an apartment—not easy in a town the size of Jackson—and he’d headed immediately from work to the leasing office to sign papers and make the deposit. He’d start moving his stuff in tonight after the Dear Veronica performance.
Smiling at the charm of the wooden boardwalks of downtown Jackson, Gabe ditched the tie and rolled up the sleeves of his pale green button-down as he walked. Even at seven-thirty the sun was still hot on his skin in the cool air.
It was only May. Not only did he have a good five months of rock-climbing weather ahead of him, he’d have the climbing areas nearly to himself for a month before the tourists arrived. His smile widened. He’d been one of those tourists, but now he could call himself a local. For a while.
One year of living exactly the life he wanted. He’d have to make it count.
A woman riding by on a muddy trail bike returned Gabe’s smile. He tipped his head in acknowledgment.
He hadn’t dated much in the past couple of years. He’d spent his days off camping and exploring the hills south of Cincinnati. But in Wyoming, the wilderness was right here, and the town was full of women who spent more time outside than Gabe did. His dating pool was wide-open. Maybe he’d make that count, too.
Not that he’d meet anyone at the martini bar tonight, he thought as he eyed the sign ahead with disdain. The Three Martini Ranch. Popular with the ski crowd, no doubt. People from the big city. People like Veronica. She might have been from Wyoming originally, but she was all Manhattan now. Styled hair and big sunglasses and high heels, all for a trip to the library. Wow.
The funny thing was that he liked Lauren a lot. She seemed down-to-earth and smart as hell. Not the kind of woman to put up with bullshit. So why was she friends with a high-maintenance girl like Veronica Chandler?
A mystery he wouldn’t put much time into. He’d keep his head down tonight, try to have a good time with the other librarians and deny any connection to New York if it would keep Lauren from trying to hook him up with a city girl.
He took a deep breath and opened the door of the bar, noticing that the door handle was a metal sculpture of a toothpick with an olive on the end. “Cute,” he muttered.
The noise of the place hit him as soon as he stepped in. Gabe was shocked. He’d been to Jackson often enough in the past few years to know that the high-end places were dead empty during the off-season, and he would’ve expected this to be one of them. But almost every table was full and people were gathered around a small stand at the front, stuffing notes into a blue vase. Free Advice! read the sign in front of the vase. Submit Your Dear Veronica Questions Here!
That part might be entertaining, at least. Gabe spotted the table of his new coworkers but was surprised to also see two people he knew at another table. The man and woman were both rock-climbing guides. He gave them a wave as he passed on his way toward Lauren.
“Gabe!” Lauren called as he drew closer. She seemed happy to see him, at least. He’d been the only male librarian around in most of the positions he’d held since grad school, and it wasn’t always a comfortable fit. At his first job, he’d been tempted to have the word interloper tattooed on his forehead.
“You made it,” Lauren said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up for hanging around a bunch of strange ladies at a bar.”
“What can I say? I’m down with strange ladies.”
“Then you came to the right spot.”
He nodded to the other two women, both of whom he’d met today during his training. The library director wasn’t around, and Gabe felt no surprise at that. He could already tell she was the type of boss who stayed holed up in the office with the door closed as often as possible.
Gabe was a little relieved that, so far, none of his new coworkers were part of his dating pool. He’d fallen head over heels for a coworker a few years ago, and that had ended badly. Not with spectacular fireworks but with a simmering, drawn-out death that had made work a misery for six months until he’d finally taken another job.
After that he’d instituted a no-dating-at-work rule that had felt a little unnatural for a while. As the only single male student in his MLIS class, he’d spent a lot of time dating peers. But he’d also been young and dumb. At thirty-one, he was marginally smarter, but he was relieved that his coworkers were all either in relationships or members of AARP.
“So what did you think of your first day?” Lauren asked.
“The library is great. You’ve made efficient use of the space, but it’s still welcoming. It’s amazing to be working in a small community library again.”
Lauren smiled. “It’s a big change from the main branch of the Cincinnati Public Library, I’m sure.”
“It’ll be a relief not to be in touch with social services for a while. You wouldn’t believe how often we had to try to find help for people using the library as a shelter.”
“Just because this is a small town doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen here.”
“Right,” he corrected himself. “Of course.”
“Not on a daily basis, though.” She watched him for a moment. “How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Thirty-one.”
“That’s a relief. I was afraid that beard was hiding a baby face. Did you concentrate on digital lending in Cincinnati?”
“I didn’t spearhead it there, but I worked on it from planning through implementation. Have you guys been looking at it long?”
She shrugged. “We’ve talked about it. We checked it out last year, but we really needed to invest in our Spanish-language section. And personally, I think an e-reader is cost prohibitive for the members of the community who need the library most.”
“I know exactly what you mean, but you have to keep in mind that a huge percentage of the community has at least a smartphone, and these—”
“Hold on,” Lauren interrupted, and Gabe worried that he’d misstepped, already talking up his plans on the first day, but then he realized she was pulling a phone from her pocket. “Hey, Jake,” she said, covering her other ear as she stood. “Just a second. I can’t hear anything in here.”
She’d taken only one step away when Gabe heard her name being called. Lauren kept moving toward the door, a hand still pressed to her free ear. Gabe looked toward the sound of a woman calling out “Lauren!” one more time.
It was Veronica Chandler, standing in the opening of a hallway that he assumed led to the bathrooms and the office of the bar. She stood up on tiptoe and waved toward Lauren, then lowered herself again, her face falling from hope to disappointment.
Her blond hair still looked the same, some sort of angled, stylish cut that would look at home in any big city, but her face looked younger without the sunglasses. In fact, Gabe was a little surprised at how young she looked. He’d placed Lauren somewhere around forty, but Veronica looked more like twenty now that he could see her wide blue eyes and round cheeks. She bit her lip and her worried gaze swept the room as if she were lost.
Shit. Gabe glanced toward the door, but Lauren was nowhere to be seen. Veronica crossed her arms and stared at the door as if her only hope had disappeared. Gabe excused himself from the table and wound his way through the crowd.
She was still frowning toward the doorway and didn’t notice him until he stopped in front of her. “Jesus!” she gasped, slapping a hand to her chest.
“Sorry,” Gabe said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Lauren got a phone call. She should be back any second.”
“Oh. Okay.” She crossed her arms again and stepped farther back into the hallway, then raised a thumb to her mouth to chew at the nail. He noticed that despite her smoky eye makeup and glossy lips, her nails were bare and cut short.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he asked.
When she finally gave up her vigil and looked right at him, Gabe was a little shocked by the vivid blue of her eyes. But he was the only one who felt that jolt, apparently, because her frown was decidedly suspicious.
“I’m Gabe,” he offered. “We met today at the library.”
“I remember,” she said.
“Is something wrong?” Gabe asked. “Do you want me to grab Lauren for you? She’s probably right outside.”
She sighed and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I just need a drink, and I was hoping not to mingle.” She waved toward the bar, and Gabe winced at the casual gesture. She really was a bit of a diva. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman.
“I’m happy to grab something for you. What do you drink?”
He expected a complicated order, but she shrugged. “I don’t know. Just a cosmo, I guess?”
It came out as a question, but he nodded. “A cosmo. You got it. I’ll be right back.”
“Could you bring it to the office? I have to go through these questions. And I really need a drink.”
He headed toward the bar, deciding he’d need a drink to get through this evening, too. Just as he got the bartender’s attention and ordered a beer and a cosmo, a loud, friendly voice rang out over the PA system.
“Hello, locals!” the warm voice called.
He turned and was shocked to see that it was Veronica, holding a microphone, her arm draped over the big blue vase.
“I’m Dear Veronica, in the flesh!”
The crowd cheered and hooted as she laughed. Her face looked transformed again. Neither cool and haughty nor young and uncertain, her round face now held a friendly, open warmth and a wide smile.
She waved at the whole crowd. “It’s great to finally meet you in person!”
That was a lie. She hadn’t even wanted to step out of the hallway. Gabe shook his head and turned back to pay the bartender.
“I hope everyone has their questions in,” she continued, “because I’m ready to judge all of you.”
A moan swept through the crowd, and she laughed over it. “That was only a joke. I’m here to help, of course. So I’m going to steal all of your secrets...” Gabe glanced over his shoulder to see her scoop up the vase. A young woman darted up and dropped one last piece of paper in.
“Ooooh!” Veronica called. “You look like trouble!”
The whole place clapped as the laughing woman’s face went scarlet.
“Okay,” Veronica continued, “I’ll be back to answer your most burning questions in a few minutes. In the meantime, I’m told the martini of the night is called Your Favorite Mistake, which is about as appropriate as it gets, so drink up!”
A cheer went up as she waved again before disappearing into the hallway. Gabe sighed and collected the drinks to follow her.
By the time he’d picked his way through the crowded room, the hallway was empty. He passed two bathrooms and a door to the kitchen before he came upon a closed door marked Employees Only. Holding the beer between his elbow and his chest, he managed the knob and the door swung open.
He’d expected to find that crowd-pleasing Veronica again, but the woman seated at the desk before a pile of folded notes was pale and chewing on her lip.
“Thank God,” she said when she looked up and saw him. Actually, she wasn’t looking at him but at the drink. Both her hands reached out for the cosmo, and they were trembling.
“Hey,” he said when pink liquid dribbled over the rim and hit the desk. “Are you okay?”
“I saw my boss out there,” she muttered, then sucked in a deep breath. She took a sip of the drink and closed her eyes. “I’m better now, thanks.”
Was she an alcoholic? Had she just been jonesing for a drink? But no...she shuddered slightly as she took another sip. “God, that’s strong.”
“Do you want my beer instead?”
She grimaced at the beer. “No, but thank you.”
After one more sip of her pink drink, she put both hands flat on the desk and blew air through her pursed lips. The notes trembled and shook. She breathed deeply in, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll be fine now. Thank you very much.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll see you out there. Break a leg.”
She laughed, that big smile returning for a brief moment before it went crooked and uncertain. “Right. Break a leg. I’ll try, I guess. Oh, I should pay you back!”
Her hand swung around and hit the martini glass with an alarming chime, but she scrambled and managed to save the glass before it tipped. “Oh, thank God,” she gasped, “That would have been a tragedy.”
“Not an insurmountable one. I promise I’d have gotten you another.”
She laughed again, her round cheeks going pink. “You’re really sweet. Thanks for helping me out.”
Gabe was surprised to feel his own face going slightly warm. “No problem.” He backed out and closed the door, leaving this odd woman to her work. He knew less about her after their second interaction than he had after their first, but one thing was certain. She was high maintenance as hell. A drama queen, maybe. Or just high-strung. Whatever she was, he was staying far away from it.
His phone buzzed as he reached the end of the hall and Gabe took it from his pocket, smiling when he saw his sister’s name pop up in a text box. Another high-maintenance woman, but one he couldn’t bear to keep at a distance: his middle sister, Naomi.
How was your first day? she asked.
Good. I’m out with the other librarians right now.
She texted a big smiley face. Girls’ night???
Something like that, he responded. Are you back home?
Yes, Paris was a blast, but now Mom’s trying to feed me, and Dad’s just...disappointed.
Yeah, Gabe was disappointed, too. But he was hopeful that once his sister got through a few more years of international modeling, she’d be ready to settle down and take over the family business. Then again, he’d been telling himself that for more than ten years. Unfortunately, Naomi had turned out to be one of those rare models who was even more popular in her thirties than she had been in her teens.
And their older sister? Yeah, she was an even bigger disappointment to their father.
It was all up to Gabe now.
Gabe shook his head and texted back.
Just eat one burger and make them both happy.
I tried that last time. It didn’t get them off my back, and I had to run ten extra miles on the treadmill.
Tragedy! he responded, then added a crying face to the text.
Kiss my ass, little brother.
Love you, too, he sent before he tucked the phone back into his pocket. One hour of this Dear Veronica nonsense, and then he could head over to his new place, ignore family and work obligations, and get on with his new life.
* * *
VERONICA COULDN’T FEEL her own hands and she couldn’t quite hear what she was saying. It wasn’t the martini affecting her, unfortunately; it was pure, unadulterated terror.
Despite the numbness, her hands were still holding the letters she’d chosen to read, and the crowd was still clapping and smiling. She couldn’t remember much of the past forty-five minutes, but maybe it was going fine. She might even be doing a good job, but she had a feeling the crowd approval had more to do with the alcohol. Not that she minded.
“And now, our sixth and final Dear Veronica letter,” she said into the microphone, lowering her voice a little to bring down the noise level in the bar. It worked. The roar subsided.
She drank the last of her now-warm cosmo and took a deep breath. “‘Dear Veronica, I feel like I’m a pretty good catch. I’m young, relatively pretty, educated and fun loving. Men ask me out. I wouldn’t say I have any problem getting a date, and my standards are reasonably high. I expect a potential mate to be employed and funny and hot as hell—’”
“That’s you, Steve!” someone yelled out, causing howls to erupt.
Veronica smiled and pointed in the direction of the noise. “Find me later, Steve.” She waited for the laughter to quiet, then continued. “‘So why do I always end up being the booty call? Why am I never the girlfriend? It makes me feel like I’m not good enough. Don’t get me wrong—I love sex, but I’d like more than that, and the last three guys I’ve dated have all ended up being casual.’ It’s signed That Girl.”
Veronica looked out over crowd. “Now...this letter might mean something to a lot of you.”
There were moans of agreement.
“Let me start with this. There’s nothing wrong with a booty call.” Veronica laughed at the ruckus that caused, then shook her head and moved on. “Sex is fun. Sex is good. Booty-call your way through life if that makes you happy. But apparently, it’s not making you happy, That Girl, so you need to figure out why you’re willingly participating in this unfulfilling little dance.
“I notice that you referred to yourself as ‘relatively pretty’ and then referred to your dates as ‘hot as hell,’ which makes me think you could be flattered by their attention. Let’s be really honest here—there is nothing flattering about someone wanting to bone you.”
She paused to let the crowd react, and a server sneaked over to hand her another martini. “Oh, thank you!” Veronica whispered, surprised and relieved. Her mouth was drying out and her hands were sweating. She gratefully took a gulp, then turned back to the audience. “I hear some disagreement, but let me be clear. There are men out there who will put their penises in a tree. There are men out there who will put their penises in sheep. You do not need to feel flattered that a man wants to put his penis inside you.
“And as for women...think of all the slimeballs out there you see taking women home every single night. Those women are happy to sleep with a slimeball, so, men, don’t be honored that they’ll sleep with you, too. Sex is not flattery! It’s one of our basic animal needs and people will do a lot of nasty shit to get it.”
“She’s talking about you again, Steve!” a man shouted.
“Okay, Steve,” Veronica said, “don’t find me later.” She winked in his direction. “But for this letter writer... You describe yourself as ‘fun loving’ and I’m afraid proving that you’re down for casual sex is part of proving just how fun you are.” She paused to let that sink in and registered a couple of women who looked as if they’d just heard the truth.
“If casual sex isn’t fun for you, then don’t do it. It’s not a requirement—it’s an option. Buy a good vibrator and take a break from being the fun girl who’s down for the superhot guy. Because if you think those men can’t tell that you’re flattered by the attention, you’re fooling yourself. If you believe they’re too hot for you, then you can bet your ass that they think so, too. And if you’re smiling your way through a booty call and pretending it’s a great way to spend a weeknight, those men are not going to try to talk you out of it.”
She took a deep breath. Almost done.
“So take a break. Reevaluate your choices. Figure out what you really want. And if what you want is to get serious with someone, then you wait for a person who’s serious about you. You wait for the guy who calls you when he doesn’t want sex.”
A few of the women frowned and Veronica smiled. “Okay, wait for the guy who’s dying to do you and also wants to spend time with you not having sex. Is that better?” All of the women cheered. “All right. Thank you very much, everyone. This has been a blast. I’ll see you in the paper!”
She waved blindly at the clapping crowd, then turned, meaning to grab her drink and retreat to the office to hyperventilate, but the glass was empty. Had she downed that whole thing in five minutes? No wonder she felt dizzy. Before she could retreat, someone rushed up behind her and squeezed her waist.
“You were amazing!” said Lauren.
“Was I? I think I’m going to faint.”
“Everybody loved it! You’re a natural.”
“I’m not,” she murmured, starting to see spots. She managed to smile toward a female voice that called out a quick thank-you, but then Veronica pointed her body toward the hallway and started walking. “I just need a minute,” she said.
She felt Lauren pat her back, and then Veronica was alone in the cool hallway and the noise of the crowd receded. She made it to the office, shut the door and collapsed into a chair.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God, I did it. It’s over.” Her heart began to calm. The spots in her vision faded.
The door opened on a loud whoosh, and Veronica smiled gratefully, ready to fall into Lauren’s arms now that some of the shock had passed, but it wasn’t Lauren. It was Gerald King, the managing editor of the paper.
Oh, God. What if he’d finally seen through her stupid charade? What if he’d hated it?
“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Veronica.”
Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“We were hoping to promote the paper and help pump up the locals’ specials advertising with tonight.”
“I know,” she breathed. Unfortunately, the spots were completely gone now and she could see Gerald’s stern face perfectly. He was only forty-five, but there was something in his posture that always reminded Veronica of her dad. Some arrogant, implacable way he held himself. She wished she hadn’t cornered herself in the office. There was no escape from his disappointment now.
“But this is going to work out differently, I think.”
She was already nodding, conceding her awfulness.
Gerald grunted, but she couldn’t decipher the noise. “Anyway, Thursday nights are fairly slow this time of year, and the place was almost full tonight. The owner is damn happy. I think we can make this a great summer tie-in for the paper. Hell, maybe we can even take it to a bigger location during ski season, though I’d much rather increase permanent circulation than just get a temporary bump in advertising rates. But hell, why not go for it all?”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Every Thursday. Locals’ Advice Night with Dear Veronica. One hundred bucks a pop for you, paid as a bonus. Are you in?”
Are you in? He asked the question so casually. Almost as an aside, a formality. Of course she was in, because the paper wanted her to do it and she always said yes.
Veronica stared at him.
“Hey,” Gerald said, snapping his fingers. “Are you in? The manager wants to announce it before everyone leaves.”
She nodded, meaning that she understood what the manager wanted, but Gerald took it as an agreement. “Great. I’ll let him know. Good job out there.” And then he was gone, and Veronica had to come back and do this all over again next week.
The black spots swarmed again, descending on her like flies on a carcass. Could you die of regret and terror and stage fright? Veronica lowered her head to the desk and let the coolness of the fake wood seep into her face.
She’d succeeded and become a disaster in one fell swoop. The same fucking magic trick she’d been pulling off her entire life. But there was no running from it now. Jackson was home. She had nowhere else to go. She’d have to keep this charade going for a long while. And it had only felt as if everyone was watching before. Now they really were.