Page 3 of In Every Chapter

By this point, I was pretty much gaping like a guppy. Guys had nearly come to fisticuffs for me. How? I wasn’t heroine material. I was sidekick, boring-book-girl material. But my heart was doing somersaults in my chest. Because a stranger—a man—had stood up for me. I wasn’t used to that. But also, who was this other woman Denver mentioned since the two men obviously had a history? And why did I instantly kinda hate her?

“Hey, you okay?”

I flinched when Cute Guy’s warm hand touched my shoulder. “Oh, sorry! Yes! And thank you for that. He gives me the creeps.”

“No woman should have to go through that.” Cute Guy—my brain really needed to pick a better nickname—held his hand out to me. “Good game. Been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of being bested on the subject of Tolkien.”

His words weren’t condescending or a backhanded compliment. They were honest-to-goodness sincere.

I slipped my hand into his—strong, sure, and slightly calloused—shaking it, while light tingles trickled up my arm. Much more pleasant than Denver’s handshake. It was actually firm instead of wimpy like an overcooked noodle.

Again, that feeling of familiarity tugged at me as I basked in his blue gaze. A familiar stranger, yet I couldn’t place him. True, I’d only lived in Serenity Springs for about six months, but I’d been a frequent visitor for half a decade. Too bad remembering faces had never been my strong suit.

Once my propriety caught up with my sensibility, I snatched my hand back, realizing I’d been staring for way too long. “Sorry,” I mumbled, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from my bun behind my ear. “You were a worthy adversary.” I twisted my thumb ring again, searching for a topic of conversation that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete moron. “Are you new around here?”

Seriously? How much more unoriginal could I get? If I had nothing of interest to say, I might as well have remarked on the weather like Mrs. Dashwood always said.

But the guy chuckled, a low, rusty sound like he was out of practice. He should definitely do it more often, though. “Not quite, ma’am. Born and raised here. Just been away for a while.”

The ma’am threw me. Did I look that old? True, I had a prominent grey streak on the right side of my head—thank you, stress—and Liz said my eyes were more tired than twenty-three years should be, but still. Or was he flirting?

I scanned the man again, taking in his bearing. He was poised with lethal grace and determination. Not too close to be uncomfy but close enough for me to catch a hint of a subtle, spicy cologne. My money was on military or cowboy. But I hadn’t noticed a swagger marking him as a ranch hand. Was that just a fictional stereotype I read about in romance books?

“I’m Paisley,” I said at last. Then mentally face-palmed because Denver had literally announced my name. Cute Guy already knew who I was. This was why I didn’t go out. I could not be trusted around society.

Cute Guy’s lips twitched with a reluctant smile, and I had the urge to see him grin unabashed. Why am I noticing? “I’m Greyson Satterfield.”

Bells rang in my head, and I shot a look over my shoulder to my friends. Liz was chatting up the waitress, because she made friends simply by going to the grocery store, while Stephanie and Juliet shared a plate of nachos in our booth, neither apparently saying much. Very on-brand for them.

I was on my own.

Trying to channel Stephanie’s cool professional composure, I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow. “Any relation to Juliet Satterfield?”

Greyson dipped his head, slipping one hand into his pocket and leaning against the live-edge wood counter in a motion far too smooth for my skittering pulse. “Older brother.”

I snorted. “One of them, you mean.” There were five Satterfield brothers, and they were all stupidly attractive. Not that I was interested—all but two were married, and I’d bet he was one of the single ones.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Cal’s twin.”

“Ah,” I said, the pieces clicking into place. “You’re the Marine.”

“That obvious?”

Tilting my head, I dragged my eyes over him in another slow perusal. He straightened as I did so. Interesting. “Maybe a little.” Was I flirting? And whatever for? Because a handsome Marine with a nice smile and a strong handshake swept in like a hero to defend my honor and nearly bested me in the knowledge of all things Tolkien? Which, to be fair, both were pretty hot.

“You’re a little far from base, Marine.” I politely downed the last sip of my Shirley Temple. “Word is you’re never home.”

Greyson casually slid onto the stool next to me, his knee lightly brushing mine.

I tried not to flinch. You’re safe. He defended you. You’re okay.

Oblivious to my mental freak-out, he continued, “I’m home for a few days on leave. For my mom’s birthday.”

Which meant I’d be seeing more of him since I’d also be attending Delilah Satterfield’s party. A strange warmth bloomed in my stomach at the thought, but I quietly dismissed it. He was a Marine. In the military. He didn’t live in Serenity Springs, and I liked the life I was creating here. It was stable. Exactly what I wanted. What I needed.

He nodded to my empty glass. “Can I buy you another?”

“May.” The word shot out, and I slapped my hand to my mouth, like I could catch it back. How had the girls thought I was suitable company for a night on the town? Correcting a near stranger’s grammar was the epitome of rudeness in the face of such kindness.