I’m balancing a too tall stack of books on my palm with expert precision. But my mind is busy cycling through every possible worst-case scenario on a loop like a deranged carousel.
What if he finds you. What if someone here knows someone who knows someone. What if you left a trail? What if the bank account… What if your mother told him? What if…
I shove a copy ofDear Debbiebetween two other Freda McFadden mysteries and focus on the spines.
Letters. Breathe. Order. Breathe.
This is what I do now. I notice the spiraling and I put my hands on something real. I breathe until the carousel slows down. My therapist taught me that. Before I lost access to her and everything else in my life.
I'm halfway through the Cs and nearly into the Ds when the bell above the door chimes. I don't look up right away. Mostly because I can’t. I'm crouched on the floor with a stack of picture books balanced on my knee.
It’s probably one of June's regulars who won’t bat an eye in my direction. I’m going to disappear into the shelves. I imagine an old-timer here for the magazines, or a logger looking for the next Jack Reacher. In this town, everything is going to be low stakes and low stress.
But then June says, "James! Jocelyn said you'd be stopping by. A big date from what I hear."
Adorable. Real life second chance romance loading. Maybe a widower. Love it.
A voice answers. “She didn't give me much of a choice." The response is low, quiet, but it doesn’t sound old. It’s the kind of voice that doesn't need volume to fill a room.
I look up and my heart skips a beat.
Oh.
Oh my.
He’s not old at all… And he’s smoking hot, which is the last thing I need. I blow out a breath. I thought this place would be a bubble of whimsical old timers, not a place where romance cover models walk off the page and into the library.
The man is tall and broad-shouldered in a way that makes the library feel like a dollhouse. It’s like the doorframe was a suggestion he's choosing to humor. His dark hair is a little too long, and it’s pushed back from his face in a way that shows off his jawline. It could have been carved out of the same granite as the canyon walls outside.
I should for sure look away… But I do not in fact look away.
My eyes keep roaming their way down his body. I can’t help myself because there are tattoos. I can see them creeping out from under the rolled cuffs of his flannel. Dark ink winds up his massive forearms and disappears underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. His hands are big, rough-knuckled, and wrapped around a travel mug.
I’ve never been jealous of a mug before.
He looks less like a man and more like a mountain. A large, brooding, ungodly attractive mountain who is currently looking directly at me. His stare makes heat pool low in me.
My throat runs dry and I turn away.Be cool Evelyn, act like you’ve seen people before.I blow out a deep breath. But when I look back, he’s still staring at me or more like through me.
My glasses slip down my nose again. This time, I shove them back up. Meanwhile he takes a step toward me, then another.
"Hey.” His voice is a growl that reverberates through every part of me.
2
evelyn
“Hi, um, welcome to the library.”Dammit.
He lets out an awkward chuckle. “Thanks. You must be Jocelyn's—" He stops. His eyes move over my face and something shifts. He runs a hand across the back of his neck. "My sister Jocelyn said to come by the library and that you'd be here. So, here we are…"
He trails off and my brain does a quick, frantic sort…Jocelyn. His sister. Works here. Said he'd be stopping by. June doesn't seem surprised. He expected someone to be here. He expected?—
Oh God. Does he think I'm the date?
Does he think his sister set this up?
My mouth falls open at the realization. The thought is enough to pull a laugh out of me. I can’t imagine going on a date. Let alone with someone who looks like him. I should correct him. I should sayI think there's been a mix-uporI just started today, I don't actually know Jocelyn yet.I should say literally anything that a normal, functioning human woman would say.
