Free Bettie Page Presents: The Librarian by Logan Belle Page B

you noticed that?”
    Regina, of course, had not noticed that. She knew nothing about how guys in their twenties dated—how guys at any age dated. And besides, she wasn’t even sure it had been an actual date. It felt more like some sort of strange exercise, some power trip for a guy who liked to throw money around and had probably slept with every woman in New York and was just looking for fresh meat.
    â€œI wouldn’t call it a date,” Regina said. “I’m not even going to give it too much thought.”
    â€œOh no—I’m not going to let you do that,” Carly said.
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œOverthink it. Don’t you know how to have fun, Regina? Every woman in New York wants a shot at Sebastian Barnes—and you have it. Go for it. Live a little. There’s more to life than shelving books in some library.”
    â€œMaybe not for me,” Regina said. But for the first time, she was seriously starting to wonder.

CHAPTER 13
    â€œIs this the Delivery Desk?”
    â€œYes,” Regina said, looking up from her pile of requisition slips. It was a busy day for the Delivery Desk. Fridays always were. It was the last day of normal library hours for the week, and also, Regina assumed, most people didn’t want to work all weekend.
    The young woman standing in front of her had a shaved head, piercings up her entire left ear, and a full sleeve of tattoos. She also had a messenger bag strapped across her torso and a garment bag draped over one arm.
    â€œI have a package for”—the young woman pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket; she wore fingerless leather gloves on her hands—“Regina Finch.”
    â€œThat’s me,” Regina said. By this time, Alex had noticed the messenger pixie and hovered nearby, clearly trying to find a way to insert himself into the conversation.
    The young woman handed over the garment bag.
    Regina felt her face turn scarlet. Her clothes from last night.
    â€œUm, thanks . . .” she mumbled, quickly pulling the garment bag behind her desk.
    â€œHold on a sec—there’s more,” said the young woman, snapping her gum. She rummaged through her bag and handed Regina a sealed gold envelope. “Sign here.” She presented Regina with a clipboard and pen. Regina signed her name.
    The young woman stuffed the clipboard in her bag and sauntered off.
    â€œShe was hot,” said Alex. “Why didn’t you stall a little?”
    â€œStall for what?”
    â€œI was working on my opening,” he said.
    Regina rolled her eyes. “Work faster next time.”
    â€œWhat is that stuf f ?” he asked.
    An elderly woman approached the desk and handed Regina a handful of requisition slips. Regina passed them to Alex, effectively dispatching him.
    She waited for the woman to go back to her table, and for Alex to disappear to fetch the books, before unzipping the black garment bag. Sure enough, inside she found the clothes she had left at the Four Seasons. Just when last night started to feel like something she had imagined, the sight of the skirt and blouse she had shed like an old skin reappeared like a glass slipper, proving that it all really had happened.
    She shoved the clothes under her desk, opened the gold envelope, and pulled out a stiff black card with gold lettering.
    Please join us for the opening night reception for the exhibition Beginnings , featuring photography by Luc Carle, Joanna Lunde, and Sebastian Barnes.
    The Manning-Deere Gallery, 42 Greene Street, 6 p.m.
    The invitation was dated for that night. All she could think was that Sebastian wanted to see her again.
    The thought of actually going made her nervous, but she knew that if she didn’t push herself out of her comfort zone, she would spend the rest of her New York life hiding in her tiny bedroom while everyone else had a life.
    â€œRegina, why didn’t you answer the desk phone? I’ve