The SEAL's Rebel Librarian by Anne Calhoun Page A

so the course basically pays for itself when you buy a bike.”
    â€œWhat did Jason think about this?” Carol asked.
    â€œHe thought it was a stupid idea to invest in an expensive hobby that would probably get me killed, or worse, permanently disabled.”
    â€œGood thing you divorced him,” Terry said, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “That’s a sweet bike.”
    The work-study student opened the door and leaned out. “Uh, I’ve got a printer issue in here?”
    Erin sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”
    *   *   *
    She floated through the first part of her shift. She taught a student to use EBSCO; she fixed seven printer jams and one wireless router problem. She said good-bye to the day-shift librarians, and watched the reading room slowly empty out as students went in search of dinner. Slowly, ever so slowly, the routine dampened the adrenaline rush and her body settled down, her heart rate approaching normal, the color fading from her skin. But she couldn’t deny the spring in her step, the new, proud tilt to her head, the smile that broke across her face every time she looked out the tall windows and saw her Duc waiting in the parking lot.
    There was a dead period in the library around the time when the dining hall was open, students taking a break before transitioning from the class day to evening study hours. She picked up her phone and sent Jack a text.
    Eat dinner or take my bike for a ride?
    She could hear the rough amusement in his response. Tough call. Come down to study room 4W and I’ll help you decide.
    Guiltily she looked around the room. Carol was taking her shift at the circulation desk. Only one earnest student sat at a table in the main reading room. The library was as empty as it would ever be, and if anyone could keep them hidden, it would be a Navy SEAL.
    She snagged her backpack from under her desk, shouldered it, and walked up to Carol. “I’m taking my dinner break now.”
    â€œA student just asked me to text her a copy of the book she needs,” Carol said, idly clicking through Overheard in the Library on Tumblr.
    â€œThe call information?” Erin said, arrested mid-stride.
    â€œNo, the whole book,” Carol said brightly.
    â€œYou’re all over that, right?” Erin said, and pressed the button for the stacks.
    â€œI’m so all over it,” Carol said.
    The cement walls and florescent lighting of the stacks felt oppressive after a morning spent in the sunshine, the wind a physical presence against her body. She made a careful round of each floor of the stacks, checking study rooms, the rows and rows of shelves, all the while remembering how riding the bike was like sex with Jack, a push and pull, a way of testing herself against something stronger, more powerful, something that challenged her to go beyond what she was capable of, even beyond her dreams.
    But this was getting dangerous, in a way she’d not expected. Relationships with a student were clearly forbidden, but Jack was no ordinary student. He was, she thought as she walked a slow circle of the third-floor stacks, no ordinary man.
    4W was in the far corner of the bottom floor of the stacks, a study room largely ignored thanks to its out-of-the-way location and inability to get Wifi or cell service. Only the most desperately introverted undergrads found their way there. She peeked through the rectangular safety glass inset and saw Jack, long legs stretched out in front of him, typing away at a laptop. He looked up and beckoned her in.
    â€œHi,” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming back to the library today.”
    â€œThis paper won’t write itself,” he said. “How are you doing? Sore?”
    She pulled out one of the awful plastic chairs clustered unevenly around the table and sat down, wincing. “I didn’t notice how sore I was until I spent an hour in the chair at