I think things have been slowly changing for him here in Ferndale Falls. I’ve seen him at The Thirsty Tusk, drinking with the other fae men. He comes to town meetings, but he stands in the back. He used to have Rune for company, but now that the werewolf sits with Autumn, Luke stands alone. Things clearly need to change even more for him.
“Skye?” he squeezes my hand, his golden eyes watching me with an intensity I feel to my toes. His tail tightens around my legs.
“Thank you for your apology.” I meet his gaze. “I forgive you.”
Aunt Irene always complains that my squishy heart forgives too easily, but not this time. No, this is the best apology I’ve ever received.
And the way his lips curl on the left is a reward in and of itself, the gift of Luke’s true smile.
As I lie in bed, trying to fall asleep, my mind won’t stop mulling over all of the things Luke told me about his life. The people pleaser in me longs to fix it, to heal the hurts of his past and make it like they never were. But I can’t go back in time, can’t change what happened.
So I toss and turn, my legs kicking at the sheets until Princess Buttercup stands and yowls a complaint, “Will you stop that?”
“Sorry.”
She snorts and turns in place three times before flopping right back down on the same spot on the bed.
I wait for her to go back to sleep before slipping from between the covers. I slide into my comfy robe and slippers and pull out my phone. Using the flashlight app, I dig through my book bouquet, looking for something to pique my interest, but of course, even though I want to read every single one of these books, none of them is what I want to readnow.
I could open the reading app on my phone, order something from the millions of books on offer…
Or I could take advantage of the fact that I live in a castle with a fudging magical library!
Decision made, I slip from my room and tiptoe downthe back stairs to cut through the kitchen. The castle’s so silent around me that I should probably find it creepy, but it’s instead comfortable—Luke likes quiet, and as a librarian, I do as well.
When I step inside the reading room, a magical wind rustles the wisteria, rich with the sweet scent of the heady blooms. There aren’t any lights on, but the golden glow of the portal door shines brightly enough that I can pick out a path to it.
I set a hand on its frame, close my eyes, and whisper, “Hi. I know I haven’t used you like this before, and I’m not even sure if I can, but I thought it’s worth a shot.” I huff in amusement—here I am, wandering a castle at night, talking to a magical portal as if it’s a person! “But I was hoping that instead of taking me to a place in the stacks I direct you to, you could instead take me to the place with the book that’stheperfect book for me to read right now.”
The wooden frame warms against my skin, and I take that for a yes.
“Thank you!” I chirp and step through the portal—
—and into an aisle I’ve never seen before. I do a slow spin. “Fudging fudgsicles!” The awed whisper slips from my lips as I take in the countless bookshelves stretching into the distance on each side. “It’s like my every fantasy of what a romance bookshop could be come to life!”
Book after book, title after title of every fantastical romance genre you could ever want: monsters, shifters, witches, fae, aliens, epic fantasy, cozy fantasy, and paranormal rom coms. Mixed in are historical and time-travel romances. Then there’s also all the contemporarytypes: military, rockstar, mafia, billionaire, cowboy, dark, sports, small town, erotic, rom coms, and on and on.
I’ve solved the mystery of Naomi’s unknown buyer! My new question is: why romances? I thought Luke’s library specialized in magical research, and he’s not the type to want to read these for himself.
There’s a break in the bookcases, where someone’s removed one of the shelves to create a little reading nook, complete with a comfy-looking chaise lounge. A small table sits beside it, perfect for holding cups of tea and a plate of cookies. A stack of parchments covers it, and I can’t help myself. I pick up the top sheet, pulled in by Luke’s familiar handwriting, all bold strokes and strong lines.
My translation crystal necklace comes in handy once again, because I can read everything. I flip through the stack, mind racing as I skim through his notes. Because that’s what these are. Luke’s taking research notes on romance: how couples meet, how soon they have sex, who says “I love you” first, and over ten other parameters he’s decided to track.
“Snickerdoodle,” I murmur, staring at the papers in disbelief. He really is researching romance. Why in the world is he doing this? Is he trying to understand the book we’re being sucked into so he knows what to expect?
Or is he doing it because he knows I love romance books?
My heart gives a hopeful little skip, and I tell it to stop being foolish. It’s got to be the first idea. This is Luke we’re talking about, after all.
I wander farther down the aisle, my fingers trailing over the spines. The books are all jumbled up on the shelves withno rhyme or reason, a gritty romantic suspense right beside a sweet cozy, a paranormal vampire beside a small-town cowboy. It’s as chaotic and messy as the rest of his library, and the librarian in me itches to start organizing.
But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for a book, theperfectbook.
I spin and walk back to where the portal first sent me, studying the bookshelf it put me directly in front of. A bright pink cover catches my eye, tucked in between a billionaire bosshole book and an enemies-to-lovers romantasy duology. I pull it free to read the blurb on the back, which makes it clear it’s a cozy paranormal rom com about a baking witch with misbehaving magic. With a pleased smile, I tuck it to my chest and hurry back to the reading nook. Reclining on the chaise lounge, which feelsexactlyas comfortable as it looks, I tuck my legs under me and fall under the spell of the exact story I needed, giggling and kicking my feet as her magic explodes a chocolate cake all over the male main character, leading to the funniest—and messiest—meet cute I’ve read in ages.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lukendevener
