Page 5 of In Every Chapter

At the front door, Greyson had his phone to his ear, flashing me an apologetic grimace. “Keegan, when we decide, you’ll be the first to know,” he informed the caller. “Yes, I know it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

I scowled, and Greyson’s lips twitched despite their thin line.

“Persistent Keegan again?” I grumbled when he finally hung up. “It’s not even 7:30 in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, even in the military, patience was never one of his strong points. But we’ll need to give him an answer soon.” Eyeing my blue gingham sundress and oversized cream cardigan with appreciation, Greyson smiled. “You take the wrong left between here and Rivendell?”

I sniffed and flounced past him. “Baker Street actually.”

He caught my satchel strap, tugging me to a stop before I exited the open front door.

Without a word, I let him take it. “Changing jobs and moving halfway across the country is a big decision. Don’t let him rush you.” Standing on tiptoe, I kissed his cheek. “Rosie Cotton already in the truck?”

“Mm-hmm. Exactly where we should be right now.”

Oops. Time always got away from me when it came to books. “Sorry, how late did I make you? I was trying to hurry.”

Greyson chuckled lightly and ushered me out the door, locking it behind us. “We’re not late. Not yet.”

“Then why are you rushing me?”

He opened the passenger door of his sky-blue 1974 Ford truck for me and grinned. “So we can say a proper goodbye.”

Once he hopped in the driver’s seat, I huffed a breath, ruffling my bangs. “If you wanted to make out like teenagers, you should have just said so instead of stressing me out about being late.”

Greyson only laughed and backed out of the driveway. He didn’t usually drive me to work, but my car was in his mechanic shop off Main Street needing a new fan belt—whatever that was—so we were carpooling for now. Off Main Mechanic was only a two-minute drive around the corner from the library or a brisk five-minute walk. Close enough we always met to have lunch together.

Serenity Springs was a small town nestled about half an hour south of Caldwell, our nearest major city. But to look at us, you’d think we’d stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. We were the love child between Avonlea and Stars Hollow, and we took charm seriously, since we were a touristy town during the spring and summer months. We might know our neighbours’ business a little too well, but it also meant we had each other’s backs when it counted. And you could always bank on a guaranteed steady stream of casseroles during emergencies.

“You got all the material you needed for the reading list?” Greyson broke the comfortable silence, motioning to the satchel on my lap. “I left you some notes for inspiration.”

Ha. His notes included trying to get me to give Moby Dick another chance. No, sir. Not taking the bait, I smiled. “Yup. You wouldn’t believe how many kids come in asking me, ‘Ms. Paisley, what’s that book with fossils and adventure and kids living in a lighthouse? Ms. Paisley, is there a Herman Melville book shorter than Moby Dick?’ As if, the man never knew when to shut up! ‘Ms. Paisley, are there CliffsNotes for just about any book in existence?’ This is just summer reading!”

He smirked and shot me a wink. “I hope you don’t plan on recommending that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde book to any of the impressionable youth this summer.”

I tilted my head, eyeing him with bewilderment. “Whyever not? It’s a classic, and an incredibly thought-provoking one at that. Riveting.”

“Oh, I know.” Greyson eyed me slyly, turning onto Main Street. “But you wouldn’t want to accidentally encourage them to become a fire hazard.”

I blinked. What in the world? There was nothing inherently dangerous about Robert Louis Stevenson’s masterpiece (better than Treasure Island, in my opinion) and no fires to speak of in the plot. Sure, Stevenson burned the first draft of the book and started again from scratch, but—

My nostrils flared with a sharp inhale, and I smacked his arm. “Greyson Satterfield, you promised to never speak of the Incident!”

Greyson parked in front of the library and draped his arm over the back of the bench seat, giving me his full attention. “Promised is a strong word, love. Particularly about something like that. And I’d want to give Shane a heads-up to put the fire station on alert.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. He just smiled. Just before we’d gotten married, I’d been cooking dinner for the two of us and decided to read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at the same time. Wrong decision. Chicken wasn’t supposed to be black, and we never did get the charred veggies off the bottom of that pan. “You’re a rogue.”

“But I’m your rogue.”

I couldn’t bite back the smile or the eruption of butterflies in my stomach. Greyson wasn’t an overly romantic man, but he sure knew how to make my heart flutter.

Marrying my best friend nearly four years ago was the best thing that’d ever happened to me. Sure, we’d weathered our fair share of hardships—like repeated negative pregnancy tests and the nightmares Greyson struggled with from his last tour overseas with the Marines—but I wouldn’t trade him and this beautiful life of ours for anything. Sometimes I felt almost guilty about this level of happiness, but I sure didn’t take it for granted.

I unbuckled my seat belt and smoothed the skirt of my sundress. “Well, I guess we can pray the kids have better attention spans than I do.”

Greyson gently pinched my chin and made me look at him. “Oh, I like your attention span just fine, Mrs. Satterfield.”

“Even when I make us late because my head’s stuck in a book?”