She sniffles and blots her damp cheeks with a tissue. “I should go set up. Will you be here when I’m done? I want to say goodbye before I go.”
I huff out a breath. “You know me. I practically live here.”
Jaxon
I’ve visited the library every day for the last week. It’s not just to see Callie, although that is one of the perks. It’s also for research. Last year, we bought some land at auction, and it came with a fully functioning distillery. The original plan was to demo the whole thing and build stables for Griffin’s sanctuary in its place. I think we can do both successfully, but I don’t want to bring the idea to my brothers until I have a viable plan to present.
I glance across the aisle from my spot in one of the armchairs tucked beside the library’s arched windows encased in weathered brick. Callie’s in the children’s section, setting up various colorful chairs in a semi-circle. I’m drawn to her like a magnet. There’s an ease to the way she moves around the space. It’s clear she’s in her element here.
A woman approaches with a small child hanging off her arm, kicking his leg and swinging so violently it looks like he might pop her shoulder out of its socket. He can’t be much older than Emmy by the looks of him.
“Storytime starts soon,” Callie says sympathetically. “You’re welcome to have a seat now, if you like.”
The woman sighs and mutters a quiet thank you.
Callie disappears around the corner and returns with a coloring book and some crayons. With a kind smile, she offers it to the kid and sets him up at a small round table. The woman looks like she might cry with relief as she sinks into one of the nearby armchairs.
I recognize a mother’s exhaustion from those early days after Gracie was born. We supported Olivia the best we could, but she insisted on doing everything herself until she physically collapsed from exhaustion. Wilder forced her to rest while we made a schedule to look after the girls. It was a group effort, days and nights filled with dirty diapers and freezer meals. We’re lucky to have a close-knit family willing to jump in whenever they’re needed.
The kid whispers something in Callie’s ear, and she points to the coloring page and laughs. The sound is music to my goddamn ears. I could sit here all day and watch her, my beautiful distraction.
Soon, a crowd of parents and children fills the space, and Callie sits in a rocking chair with a book resting on her lap.
“Welcome, everyone! I’m glad to see so many smiling faces today. My name is Callie. First, we’re going to sing a welcome song to get our wiggles out. Are you ready?”
They sing and clap, and after the song, Callie reads them the story with different voices for each character. They raise their hands to ask questions, and she holds the book out to show off the illustrations. The kids aren’t the only ones captivated. By the time the half hour is up, I still haven’t read a single word about distilling bourbon.
Later that evening, as I’m seated across from Liv at family dinner, I ask, “Have you ever taken the kids to story time at the library?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“They do it every Tuesday. I was there earlier picking up a book, and it looked like the kids were having a great time. I thought I might take Emmy and Gracie next week.”
I try to act casual about the whole thing, but Mama’s nothing if not perceptive.
“You’re spending an awful lot of time in Willow Valley,” Mama says. “Is there something going on?”
Griffin smirks. “Jaxy’s got a crush on the cute librarian.”
“Janet? She’s gotta be like eighty-something years old by now,” Wilder says. “I’m not one to judge, but that’s beyond cougar territory.”
“Not Janet, dipshit. Callie.” It’s out before I can stop myself, and I realize I played right into Griffin’s hand.
Luckily, Emmy’s not around with her swear jar to upcharge me for the flagrant use of the word dipshit. The girls disappeared into the playroom with Pops a while ago.
“Callie?” Mama says. “Callie Cooper?”
“You know her?” I run my hand over my beard. I wish I hadn’t instigated the conversation in the first place. I should’ve known it would set off an inquisition. This family is too damn nosy.
“She’s in our book club,” Liv says.
Wilder violently spears a piece of steak and glares at me from across the dining table. “Let me get this straight. You want to use my daughters as your wingmen to get some girl interested in you?”
Liv elbows him in the ribs. “Isn’t that whatyoudid?” She steals his hat and plays up her best Wilder Hayes baritone. “Hi, Olivia. This is Wilder. Wilder Hayes. The hot cowboy you met on the airplane. Could you help me plan my daughter’s birthday party?”
Griffin snorts. “That wasn’t bad but try to be more surly next time.”
Wilder plucks a roll from the basket and tosses it at his head. He catches it, takes a generous bite, and grins.
