“Piper,” I chide from the entry hall, barely resisting giving her a clichéd librarian’s shushing. She’s usually the one encouraging patrons to keep their voices down, so this particular outburst is completely out of character for her. I’m met with a curious silence, so I hurry to hang up my jacket by the door and make my way to the room on the right where her voice had originated.Formerly a parlor in this Colonial-style home-turned-library, it now houses the circulation desk where Piper and I generally work side-by-side during the hours when our shifts overlap.
“Seriously,” I hiss, “What’s gotten into you? I could hear you squealing from outsi—”
My words cut off as I halt, frozen in the doorway, and take in the sight before me. Piper sits leaning over the desk, looking at something on none other than Riley Walker’s phone.
Riley’s.
Seriously.
Will I never escape this man?
He retracts the arm holding out his phone, and the pair of them straighten up in their chairs, Piper appearing instantly sheepish, as though caught doing something she shouldn’t. Riley, on the other hand, is grinning widely at me like I hadn’t just told him I hated him a week ago.
“Hi, Steph,” he says, getting slowly to his feet. His eyes rove over my body and, goddammit, I feel it like a physical touch. Shivers race down my spine, and heat rises to my face. “I brought you a matcha latte.”
He gestures towards the drink on the desk and casts a wink at Piper in the process. I don’t know what that’s about, but I shoot the little traitor a glare. She bites her lip and averts her gaze.
“No thanks,” I snap, though I could use some of Lucy’s liquid perfection right about now.
Piper’s head whips up at the bite in my voice, her eyes finding mine and silently begging for forgiveness. I haven’t actually told her anything about my past with Riley, but she’s capable enough of reading between the lines to know it didn’t end well. Holding her gaze, I tilt my head towards the stairs to the second level, silently asking if I can go deal with this. She nods in understanding. Then, pressing my lips together on a firm nod, I spin around and stomp towards the steps knowing he’ll follow. My hand grips the railing with white knuckles as I climb the stairs. There’s a brief pause, and then I’m met with the sound of Riley’s heavy footsteps as he moves across the hall and ascends behind me. He trails me down the second-floor hallway, my skin prickling under the heat of his stare.
I know he’s looking at my ass, I justknowit.
Shoving open the last door on the left, I move into the archives room. Once the primary bedroom, this space is now used to house historical town records. Large metal floor-to-ceiling shelving units span the length of three walls, containing row after row of brown banker’s boxes full of old documents.
Though it’s only early fall, it’s much cooler up here. The windows are old, and the insulation is nonexistent. There’s nowhere to sit, but that doesn’t matter; we won’t be staying long. Riley follows me into the room, correctly interpreting I want privacy and closing the door behind him. I come to a stop in the far corner—as far away from him as I can get—taking a deep steadying breath before I turn to face him.
I cross my arms over my chest, both to ward off the chill and as a means of self-preservation.
“What the hell do you want, Riley?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“You,” he says, simply, and my eyes flare in incredulity, but also, in panic.
I take a retreating step, backing further into my corner.
I cannot let this man near me. Iwillnot.
“Okay, okay, fine,” he raises his hands in an appeasing gesture, moving slowly as though attempting to calm a wild animal. The way my heart is banging around inside my chest, I certainlyfeelwild. “That might have been coming on a little strong,” he admits slowly.
“A little? No shit. You seem to have a problem with that.” The amount of swearing I do around this man …
He stares at me questioningly, though, so I add. “Aroma’s?”
Riley’s mouth tips up in a wry half-smile and he rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry about that, Sunshine.”
“You should be.”And don’t call me Sunshine.“Now tell me.What. Are. You. Doing here?”
“I just want to talk.”
I shake my head with a disbelieving chuckle. “I thought I made myself clear the other night. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Stay away from me.”
“Please, Steph,” he begs. And then, arms still raised, he takes a cautious step in my direction.
“No!” I shout, pointing for him to stop. I glance over my shoulder, but there’s nowhere left for me to go. Once again, I find myself boxed in by him. How does this keep happening?
“Stay where you are,” I warn.
“If I stay here, will you listen?” He hits me with those achingly familiar grey eyes. So beautiful, so …vulnerable…
