Page 13 of The Librarian’s Familiar

“For the first time in decades, I don’t owe anyone anything. Not a team, not a coach, not a teacher…and respectfully, not you. I need some time to myself.” Saying it loud felt kind of selfish. After all, it was because of his family that he’d been able to play professionally, and over the years, he’d given back, paying for things that would otherwise have been out of reach, flying them out to wherever he was living at the time and such. “When I figure out my next step, I’ll let you know.”

She sighed. “You weren’t ready for it to be over.”

August closed his eyes. “I was not. Maybe I’m grieving.”

“You’re allowed to grieve the loss of your old life, but not so much that it stops you from living. Maybe you do need a run on four feet.”

“I’m going out with Harvey and Keaton tomorrow night.” Arranging a time with his brothers to head out had been one of the first things he’d done. Of course, things were a little trickier now that they had responsibilities than when they’d been growing up before he’d been the one with schedules and limited time.

“Good. Be back for dinner.”

“I will be. You’ll be sick of having me underfoot before you know it.”

“Ha! I doubt it. You were never home even as a child. You have years to make up for. Keaton, on the other hand…”

August smiled and put his plate in the dishwasher. Keaton had lived at home until he got married. Mom had been worried that even that wouldn’t be enough for him to leave. “I have my phone with me, just in case.”

“Okay.”

But they both knew that in an emergency, shifting was often the answer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Charlie resisted the temptation to ask anyone about August North…he did not resist the temptation to look him up online. He expected to find a dozen people with the same name, and very little else.

Instead, he found himself staring at a screen filled with the images and stats of the man who’d been leaning on the bookshelf, quizzing him about his magic. He clicked on the first article, which was about his retirement due to injury. It then went into graphic detail and included a picture of him being carted off the ice.

It must have been very hard for August to resist shifting. He must have been desperate to heal, but even Charlie knew shifting with broken bones was not recommended. He closed the tab and went back to the search to see what else was there. His finger hovered over the link.

Was it an invasion of privacy?

It wasn’t as though he was stalking, digging through trash, reading his mind, or using magic in an invasive manner. August had given him his name, so he must have expected Charlie to do some digging. That, or he was so used to people knowing who he was, he didn’t care.

August had finished playing hockey and returned home to retire. What was he going to do, fish and roam the area as a polar bear for the next forty years?

There was certainly nothing else to do.

And there was no need for him to work.

Was he bored? Is that why he’d been sticking his nose in where it wasn’t needed?

He remembered the way August had looked at him, and the way he hadn’t been able to keep the heat out of his icy eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t his nose he wanted to be sticking in. A smile curved his lips before he remembered that he didn’t need the kind of trouble that came with sleeping with any more shifters, or anyone famous. Especially not sport-famous. He closed all the tabs and pushed August as far out of his mind as he could, which wasn’t nearly far enough.

His magic itched to do more than undo August’s laces.

He raked his teeth over his lower lip, knowing that August was a problem he should ignore if he didn’t want to end up polar bear chow, while at the same time acknowledging that he was probably going to fail.

A little resistance was always a good thing to practice when it came to magic and sex.

A couple of older women came in. The taller one smiled as she walked over. “We heard you got some new books in.”

“I did.” Charlise smiled. “What are you interested in?”

“We’d like something spicy,” the shorter one leaned in like they were requesting something dangerous.

“Spicy?” Charlie didn’t want to recommend the romance novels that had arrived if that was not the kind of spicy they wanted.

“You know, hot romance. The kind you young people have,” said the taller one.