Alison's Wonderland Read Online Free PDF

though her mind went down a verdant dirty path the moment he touched her, she tried to hold on to her head librarian persona. “I also have a thing about being manhandled. Please let me go and keep yourself and your men from walking over this section during patron hours. Thank you.”
    He leaned in, his mouth so close. He smelled of cinnamon and mint and coffee. A very yummy, very warm smell. “No problem, boss lady Troll.”
    “Yes. Right.” From below came the ding, ding, ding of someone pressing the red button for assistance. Saved by the bell. Literally. “I’d better go answer that.”
    “Hurry, scary boss lady. Get back down below.” He winked when he said it and the wink sent a fireball of attraction rushing from the deepest pit of her stomach to the warmest recesses of her body. She straightened her spine so hard her whole body clenched. Bad move. The clenching made thedesire run amok and she nearly, nearly, mind you, leaned in and kissed him before her brain could even think it over. Thank goodness, she managed not to do that.
    Thank goodness. Right?
    “I would suggest you get to work now, Big Billy.”
    Time stood still then. Everything froze, including her unstably beating heart. Had she just called this colossal, handsome, green-eyed man…Big Billy? To his face?
    He barked laughter, green eyes dancing, narrowing and darkening a bit with predatory glee. He looked her over and the gaze itself was like strong fingers sliding over her skin.
    “ Big Billy?”
    Yes. Yes, she had said it out loud.
    “Sorry. My apologies,” she choked out, and ran on her unsteady heels from the scene of the crime. On the first floor, safe behind her library counter, Philomena prayed for death. It did not come.
     
    Right after lunch as she was checking out a gentleman with a substantial stack of books on the practice of Wicca, the first dirt shower came. A small clod rested on The Layman’s Grimoire, then a faint sifting decorated Everyone Witchcraft. Philomena steeled herself, looked up and got a nice piece of silt in her eye for her efforts. “Please, Billy! Please, I asked you three not to walk over me during patron hours.”
    She mumbled her apologies and wiped the books clean and got the somewhat bemused customer on his way. Then she threw her head back, hands on hips, blood boiling as the boots did another pass overhead. It was the little Billy. The jaw thruster. But damn, what was his name? “ Helloooo! Do you hear me?”
    He paused, looked down into her eyes, grinned, jaw moving a mile a minute. “Sorry. Billy. Big Billy told me to hit the switch and the switch plate is over there, lady.”
    “Ms. Troll,” she corrected.
    “Right.”
    Philomena bit her lip and steamed. She couldn’t argue, though. The switch plate for the main bank of lights was on the far wall. Which meant walking over her. “Fine. But that’s it. Please!”
    “I’ll give it my best. Otherwise, take it up with Benjamin.”
    “Ri-ight,” Philomena growled and wiped down her counter with some cleaner and a paper towel. This would not do. Not at all. But she knew that she would just have to soldier on. The more hours the three Billys could get during the day, the faster they would be done. And then they would be out. Them and their mess!
    Next was a regular, and Philomena knew exactly what would be in his stack when he started self-checkout. Second World War, civil war, Korean War. War buff. Mr. Sinclair was his name, and he flirted shamelessly, but was 110 percent harmless. “Are they getting the upstairs all squared away then, Ms. Troll?” His voice was a mellifluous balm after the rattle and racket from the second floor.
    “Not soon enough, Mr. Sinclair.”
    He slid his stack over her way and cleaned his glasses with his shirttail. “I can tell you’re a wee bit worked up over the upheaval.”
    Some insistent buzzing thump came from above her head and she cringed. “Yes, well…” More dirt! Right into her keyboard and right on