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She even read through his students’ reviews of his classes, and while they all seemed to agree Professor Crawley could be strict, no one had anything truly terrible to say about him. Bia had texted her earlier this morning to let Lucy know she hadn’t found anything incriminating, either.

But that didn’t mean Lucy wasn’t still on her guard. She needed to do further research, and she had the perfect idea.

A truth spell.

After eating her toast and sweet, she sipped her latte and walked up to where Grayson was sitting with his laptop. He glanced up at her, and she focused, moving her fingers slightly as she sent a truth spell his way. Magic tingled down her arm.

“Yes?” Grayson said, looking at her. She locked his eyes with hers, and the truth spell washed over him. He blinked, a little dazed. He would answer her truthfully so long as she stayed focused on their conversation.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He paused, frowning at the paranoia in her voice. “I’m here for Charles.”

She narrowed her eyes. She needed to be more specific. “No, what are you doing, here, at the bookstore?” she asked.

“I’m trying to help out so Charles doesn’t worry.” He looked a little confused.

Lucy bit back a groan. Maybe she wasn’t asking the right questions, or the truth spell wasn’t working. He wasn’t saying anything incriminating!

“Do you actually care about Charles?” she asked, focusing harder on the spell. “Or do you just care about the store?”

He furrowed his brows. “I care about Charles, and he cares about the store.”

Ugh! He still wasn’t admitting to any ulterior motives, and the spell was giving Lucy a headache from concentrating so hard.

With a sigh, Lucy walked away, leaving Grayson looking slightly dazed as the truth spell faded.

She ambled around the store, making sure things were clean. Everything needed to be perfect for when Charles arrived. He would be discharged around two, his text had said.

Though he might have a heart attack upon seeing the changed decor, not that Grayson would have thought of that or cared, even. He clearly wasn’t here for Charles, or he would have never ruined Charles’s beloved bookstore in such a manner.

Lucy wanted to go search for her decorations—Grayson had probably hidden them in storage—but the door chimed with a customer.

A jolt of excitement went through her. The doorbell always gave her a serotonin boost; she loved dealing with customers. It was akin to watching a new couple on a first date, everything sparkling.

“Hi! Can I help you find anything or are you just looking?” Lucy asked the older woman who had entered. As Lucy busied herself with the customers, time slipped away in the very best way, and she skipped around, subtly using her magic to help readers find their next connection.

In Lucy’s periphery, she kept track of Grayson, his form a constant in the corner of her eye as he busied himself with work on his laptop. He switched positions a few times, going from the lounge chair to one of the tables to standing.

Sometime around midday, she looked up from the pumpkin spice latte that Maybelle, a regular, had ordered, to find Grayson stretching. His long arms reached toward the ceiling, right hand holding his left wrist, pulling gently as he leaned to the side, then switching, leaning to the other.

Arms back at his sides, he rolled his broad shoulders out, turning to meet her eyes, which—she realized with irritation—had been fixed on him. Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed.

He arched a brow. “What?”

“You have abysmal posture,” she noted icily, as she set the steamer wand into the milk.

An older man made his way to the register, wanting to check out. “Be with you in a minute!” Lucy chirped eagerly, but Grayson walked over.

He eased behind the register. “I got it.”

And he did, which pissed her off. She was somehow more irritated by his help than his redesign of the store. She didn’t want him to become useful, not when she needed to think of ways to get rid of him.

It didn’t help that she was also hyperaware of his presence. As he stood beside her in the small cash register space, she inhaled the scent of his cologne, some kind of cedar mixed with leather, mingling with the smell of books from the store.

Her body hummed in response, and she took a deep breath, shifting closer before she regained her senses and stepped back.

The problem wasn’t Grayson. It was that she hadn’t been around men in what seemed to be forever. She hadn’t been kissed since … she couldn’t even remember when! Which in itself was tragic. Not to mention the depressing timeline of the last time she had had sex. She shuddered.