Avoiding the traffic on Main Street, I hurried across the road and stepped up on the sidewalk. When I got to the front door, I swore: I was fifteen minutes early. The doors were locked. I peered through the glass to see if there was anyone moving around. The place was deserted. Momentarily frustrated, and more than a little chilly, I looked around for someplace more hospitable to wait out the duration, when someone called out my name. I turned and blushed when I saw Neil wave at me and call my name again. “Darcy!” He grinned and headed toward me. “Hi,” I said when he got closer. I was a brilliant conversationalist. “Sorry if I startled you,” he said. With a glance at the closed sign on the library door, he asked, “Grabbing a book?” My gut reaction was to be defensive, as if he were prying into my business; but then I realized he—like anyone else—was just being polite. “No, uh…” Neil raised his eyebrows, still smiling that disarming smile of his. Why did guys like him have to be so charming?
