Prologue
Kate
Three months ago
Gordy’s is a mess of streamers, glitter, and too-loud laughter. Just the kind of chaotic celebration this town lives for. Knox is holding court at the bar, Brynn’s at his side looking smug and soft and loved, and someone has stuck a paper crown on my head that keeps slipping every time I tip back my drink. My mom has Evie for the night, so I’m here at Brynn’s birthday party. I have lipstick that won’t quit, legs I shaved all the way to my soul, and a thrum under my skin that says I didn’t come out to behave.
“Need rescuing, librarian?” The voice is warm, a smile contained in a sound.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s Cam, but I look anyway, because denying myself the joy of taking in his face and muscles would be sacrilege.
“You offering, Wells?” I ask.
His mouth does that slow, unfair curve that makes my knees consider treason. “Depends what you need rescuing from.”
“Shots,” I say, because the tray our waitress just dropped on our high-top could sink a ship.
“I don’t know about that,” he counters, eyes skimming my face in a way that feels indecent for a room this crowded. “I’m told tequila solves most problems.”
“It also causes them.”
“We’re not in the problem business tonight, Katie.”
He started calling me ‘Katie’ a few weeks ago and every time he uses that nickname, I have to remember to breathe. His fingers brush the crown back into place, a barely-there touch that sends heat down my spine.
“We’re in the celebration business tonight.”
Across the table, Brynn catches my eye, wiggles her brows, and lifts her phone like she wants to memorialize my downfall. I flash her a don’t-you-dare glare and grab two shot glasses.
“To celebrations,” I say, handing one to Cam.
“Cheers,” he says, grinning like an idiot.
We knock them back. The burn hits and my whole body saysyes. Music swells—something with a drumline that makes the floor vibrate—and the party shifts to dancing. Knox pulls Brynn into a spin, the room whooping as he dips her. I should be watching my friends get everything they deserve—joy, redemption, love—but all I can see is the way Cam’s forearms look withthe sleeves of his black button-down rolled up. The way his collar is opened one button too far, revealing the gold chain that slinks around his neck. The clean line of his throat when he laughs.
“It’s a crime to have arms like that,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Arms like what?” He glances down, genuinely confused, which only makes it worse.
I cringe, shaking my head. “Nothing.” I bite into a lime slice, and his gaze drops to my mouth in a way that makes the world tilt.
He leans in a little closer. “Are you sure that was nothing?”
I sigh, tossing the lime onto a napkin, looking back up at him. “You know that thing where a man turns a wrench and women consider throwing away their moral codes?”
“Is that a thing?” he asks, fighting a smile.
“Yes.”
“Good to know.” His voice drops a fraction and he leans even closer. He smells like cedar and lime. “You need anything fixed, Katie?”
My heart stumbles. My brain backfires. I know we’re friends, but sometimes my body has delinquent thoughts when I’m around him. I’ve done a good job of stuffing those thoughts down, but the tequila might open the flood gates tonight.
“Is that your pitch, Wells? ‘Let me come over and tighten your bolts?’”
“Would it work?”
“I’m not that easy,” I say, teasing.
