Chapter 4
Jade
Sweet Dreams Guaranteed looked like the kind of place that wrapped you in a hug before you even stepped through the door.
Warm, golden light spilled from the windows, and the entire porch was ringed with flower boxes overflowing with marigolds, ivy, and something purple I definitely couldn’t pronounce.
Wind chimes tinkled gently, and there was a faint scent of cinnamon drifting out into the street as though someone inside had just finished baking something sinful.
Walking into the living room felt like stepping into a quilt.
Not literally, though, given the number of handmade blankets draped over chairs and couches, that was probably a future possibility.
The walls were painted soft cream, the kind that looked good in any season, and the staircase curled upward with polished wooden railings that shone like honey.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. No storm-gray eyes in here, no carved cheekbones, no overdressed man with far too many opinions and judgment. Just… warmth.
“I was really worried,” I admitted to Grandma Liz as she shrugged out of her shawl.
“That I’d ruined everything before even starting.
I mean, snooping around the library instead of meeting you at Town Hall…
” I had learned from past mistakes that admitting when you’d stuffed up helped, loads.
It just wasn’t always easy to do, especially when your boss or your ex was a jerk with an oversized ego.
A bit, I thought snidely, like one sharp-eyed neighbor who stuck his nose into my business like it belonged there.
“Nonsense,” Grandma Liz said with a bright laugh and a dismissive wave that made all her bangles jingle like joyful wind chimes. “I liked the initiative.” Even her gray curls bounced merrily, as if caught in a gentle, unseen breeze created solely by her powerful personality.
“You did?” I asked faintly. My eyes went from the woman, nodding firmly, to the warm room and inviting furniture.
Embraced in such a cozy atmosphere, it wasn’t hard to believe it was true.
I guess Luther was not the only one suspicious by nature, however, because I found it hard to trust. Maybe I just found it hard to trust that I wouldn’t stuff it up further down the line.
A fistfight with the library’s neighbor was a distinct possibility right now.
“Of course,” the Mayor said with another wide, friendly smile.
“It shows spirit. Curiosity.” She winked.
“Librarians with no curiosity are like wolves with no teeth: unthinkable.” I didn’t know how to respond to that metaphor, so I just smiled awkwardly.
It reminded me a little too much of the weird fluke of my brain that had made me see fangs rather than teeth in the sweet lady’s kind smile.
Before I could dig myself further into a hole, a woman emerged from the hallway with a tray of steaming teacups.
She was warm in every sense: brown hair curled into glossy waves, brown eyes bright, curves soft and lovely, smile wide and welcoming.
“You must be Jade!” she said. “I’m Gwen, Gwendolyn Avery. But everyone calls me Gwen.”
“Hi,” I said, accepting a teacup. It smelled like chamomile and honey.
My shoulders sagged with relief at the sight of something so normal and mundane, coming from such a normal-looking woman.
I’d had enough weirdness for one afternoon.
“Your B the last thing I needed was to get hung up on the jerk next door.
I had just started to relax. The kind of relaxation where your bones begin to remember what softness feels like: warm lamplight, blueberry scones, Liz’s enthusiastic budget breakdown, Gwen’s soothing tea.
I’d even uncurled my fingers from the tight little ball they’d become after my encounter with Luther.
Then the front door swung open. Big boots hit the floorboards in rhythmic, purposeful thuds. Someone tall and broad entered, probably wearing an expression that said, I’m here to solve a problem and then reprimand someone for causing it in the first place.