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Lucy arrived at the bookstore, parking and getting her things. Taking a deep breath, she entered the bookstore, her heart already beating erratically just at the prospect of seeing Grayson.

And then she did see him—he was at the counter, looking especially devastating in a black hoodie and black trousers.

Lucy walked up to the counter. “Good morning,” she said, smiling at him. He completely ignored her, walking away as if he hadn’t heard a thing. For a moment, Lucy wondered if she had said the words aloud. Sometimes at home, her parents were so lost in their own world that they didn’t respond when she spoke, and it always made her feel like she was trapped underwater, where no one could see or hear her.

Pain panged through her, but she rolled her shoulders, steeling herself. Maybe she deserved that after the way things had gone in her car.

Setting down her things, Lucy grabbed the box of leftover cookies from last night that she had brought especially for Grayson. She walked over to where he was standing by the section of classics, searching for a title.

The sight of his body made her own hum with desire as she recalled the way they had been tangled together. Heat burned through her.

Lucy stood next to him, holding out the box. He didn’t turn. Not even when she cleared her throat. Her confidence in this plan wavered, but she pushed through.

“Do you want one?” she asked, voice as amiable as possible. Finally, he turned, gazing down at the box of cookies she held.

“No,” he said, turning back to the shelf without sparing her another glance.

She deflated, walking back to the front counter. She chanced a glance at him, but he was perfectly cold, all the heat from the days before gone.

Irritation burst through her—but she forced herself to stay calm. She would give him time to warm up.

But all day, he stayed just as frosty. Any time she tried to speak with him, his answers were short and curt, his tone rude.

In the evening, the store was quiet, and he sat in a lounge chair, reading a book. Fiddling with her sweater sleeves, Lucy walked over.

“What are you reading?” she asked, standing in front of him. He simply held up the cover so she could see for herself.

Disappointment rang through her. She had been hoping to start a conversation and naturally bring up his plan for them to get dinner, but that seemed impossible now.

She would just barrel through. Gathering the last remnants of her courage, she took a deep breath.

“Do you want to get dinner together?” she asked.

Grayson finally looked at her.

Disbelief rang through Grayson at Lucy’s words. After callously rejecting him, she was throwing his own words back at him. Was this some sort of joke?

How could she be so erratic? He didn’t trust her. Not after he had opened himself up to her so fully, only to be handled so cruelly. She had laughed at him. She wanted him to leave so she could have the bookstore and Charles all to herself.

It was better not to get involved with her, he reminded himself. It wasn’t practical, not when she made him lose all sense. After he’d stormed out of her car yesterday, he had spent the rest of the day in the vilest mood—and now she was backtracking, acting as if none of it had ever happened.

She was too unpredictable, too unstable. Too scary.

Besides, she wasn’t why he was here. He was here for Charles, to build a relationship with his grandfather. Lucy had only ever been a distraction.

This was probably just another way to try to hurt him. And he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction—no matter how much a part of him yearned to say yes.

When Grayson looked at Lucy, his blue eyes were empty.

“No,” he said simply, voice cold. “Why would I want to get dinner with you?”

Lucy felt as if she had been slapped. She could admit that she hadn’t handled it well when he’d first asked her out, but she was trying to make amends now. Didn’t that count for anything?

Apparently not. He didn’t care that she was trying—he didn’t want anything to do with her.

He was just like her parents, who never put in any effort, who always gave up on her so easily, no matter how badly she wanted things to work, no matter how hard she tried.

Her insecurities gnawed at her. She knew this was a bad idea. It was better to stay uninvolved, better to stay safe.