Grayson grinned, perfectly aware he probably looked unhinged. “If I find out she lied, it’s not me who’s going to need luck.”
He didn’t give Jace a chance to respond to that. Instead, he left the office, walking back to the farmhouse he shared with his brothers. Not that he was going home. He bypassed the front steps, heading straight to where his truck was parked in the driveway.
That touch at the festival had changed his life.
And now…it was about to reveal another truth.
Twenty minutes later, Grayson was climbing the three steps that led to the front door of the Gracemont Public Library. His pulse was hammering like he’d just run a marathon.
The library was quiet when he stepped inside, the air cool and carrying the familiar scent of old books and polished wood. It was only a few minutes before closing time, so it looked like most of the patrons had already cleared out, the place nearly echoing in its emptiness.
He’d timed this visit perfectly.
Wren wasn’t seated at the circulation desk, so he walked past it, peering into the small office behind. The door was open, so he could see in an instant that she wasn’t there either.
Then he heard it. The faint squeak of the book cart he’d told her would benefit from a bit of WD-40.
Glancing around one of the shelves, he spotted her. Her back was to him as she sorted a handful of books on the cart. Her long blonde hair was down, hanging around her shoulders. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that accentuated her perfectly round ass and showed off her trim calves. A white silky blouse was tucked into the skirt, but it was clear she’d been reaching to put books on shelves, because some of it had tugged loose, the shirt’s hem hanging free on one side.
She was the perfect blend of cute and sexy.
His.
That last thought hit him harder than he liked, because it came tied to another emotion.
Betrayal.
He didn’t know what the hell game she and Lark had been playing, but whatever it was, she’d had more than enough time to come clean once the prank was over.
They’d had three conversations since then. Two right here in this library, and then that night at Whiskey Abbey. Three talks that had meant more to him than he cared to admit to himself.
Had she secretly been laughing at him, pleased that her joke had been so successful?
She threw her left leg out, toeing over one of those wheeled stepstools so many libraries had. Grabbing three large hardback books, she stepped up, reaching out to shelve them. She tottered for a moment, obviously underestimating the weight of the books.
Grayson quickly headed down the aisle. His movement caught her unaware, so when she twisted her head to look at him, she wobbled even more.
The second he reached her, he placed his hands on her hips to steady her.
Wren started talking, but it was impossible to hear the words over the fireworks exploding in his body louder than the Fourth of July. His intention had been to keep her secure, but if he kept touching her, he was the one who was going to wind up on his ass.
Carefully lifting her off the stool, he placed her feet firmly on the ground, then—with great difficulty—he drew his hands away.
That simple motion shouldn’t have been so damn hard, but it was as if his hands were coated with superglue. Letting go of her waist felt fucking unnatural.
That was when every piece clicked into place. The festival, the connection he’d felt, that kiss, this undeniable attraction.
It had been real.
Just attached to the wrong damn name.
She’d lied to him.
But even knowing that, even furious and hurt and completely fucked up in the head, he still wanted to pull her into his arms—and that realization terrified him.
The legend hadn’t been wrong, which left him reeling, trying to figure out what hurt worse.
The lie, or the fact that he was already halfway in love with her anyway.
