5. Aurora
CHAPTER FIVE
Aurora
I woke up alone. Which was exactly how I wanted it.
I stared at the ceiling of my room at The Medford Inn, sheets tangled around my legs, my body still humming with the aftershocks of last night.
Mason Grady.
His name alone sent a pulse of something hot and dangerous through me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply. It was just a one-night thing. No big deal.
I’d had flings before. I’d dated. I’d gone home with someone after a few drinks and a good conversation. This wasn’t new to me.
But something about last night felt different.
Maybe it was because Medford wasn’t the kind of place where you could pretend someone didn’t exist the next day. Maybe it was because Mason wasn’t just some random guy. I’d been here less than a week, and he’d already wormed his way under my skin.
Or maybe it was because, for a few hours, I’d let myself forget.
Forget the bookstore. Forget the mess my uncle left me. Forget the fact that my life was unraveling one loose thread at a time.
I groaned and threw the blanket over my face. It was just sex. Stop overthinking it.
I dragged myself out of bed, my body sore in places I hadn't felt in a long time. The good kind of sore. The kind that came from being thoroughly and deliciously wrecked.
Heat flared low in my stomach, but I shoved it down and forced myself to move. Dwelling on last night wouldn’t change anything.
It was just sex.
A damn good mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.
I shuffled into the tiny bathroom, flipping on the light and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Jesus.
My hair was a mess, my lips looked a little too swollen, and there were faint marks along my collarbone where Mason had kissed—no, devoured—me.
I swallowed hard and turned on the shower, letting the hot water drown out my thoughts as I stepped in.
It was supposed to be simple. A small-town one-night stand. Something to take the edge off while I figured out what the hell I was doing here.
But Mason wasn’t simple. And neither were his brothers.
I exhaled sharply, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. It wasn’t just Mason who’d gotten under my skin. I was drawn to all of them.
Ethan, with his quiet strength and intense, brooding presence. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me, something unreadable but impossible to ignore.
Owen, with his easy charm and quick wit. He could make anyone laugh, but beneath that, I could tell he kept something hidden. I wasn’t sure what, but I wanted to find out.
And Mason.
Mason, who was all trouble and temptation, who didn’t take anything seriously until, suddenly, he did.
Who had kissed me like he wanted to consume me.
I tipped my head back, letting the water stream over my face.
This was insane.
I hadn't been this attracted to anyone in years, let alone three men.
My love life in the city had been lackluster, to say the least.
Safe. Predictable. A string of relationships that never quite sparked, never made me feel like I was burning from the inside out.
But this?
This was something else entirely. A slow, simmering heat curling in my veins, twisting in my chest, making it impossible to ignore.
And that terrified me.
I didn’t have time for this.
I shut off the water, toweled off, and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater. My body might have still been buzzing from last night, but my brain needed to be somewhere else. The bookstore.
I grabbed my keys and headed out, ignoring the faint ache in my legs as I made my way down the quiet streets of Medford.
The morning air was crisp, the town just starting to wake up. A few cars rolled by, people walked in and out of The Brewed Bean Café, and for a second, everything felt normal.
Until I saw the bookstore.
My steps faltered, and my heart kicked against my ribs.
The door was ajar.
I know I locked it last night.
I rushed forward, pushing it open the rest of the way, and immediately, my stomach dropped. The place was a disaster.
Papers scattered across the floor. Shelves tipped over.
The register drawer yanked open, its contents dumped out.
A chill crept up my spine as I stepped inside, my boots crunching against broken glass.
What the hell?
I scanned the mess, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t just a break-in. It was ransacked. Someone had been looking for something.
Swallowing hard, I crouched down, fingers sifting through the scattered papers.
Receipts. Old invoices. Some of my uncle’s handwritten notes about book orders. Nothing seemed valuable.
Until I saw the folder.
It was half-buried under a pile of loose pages, but the moment I picked it up, I knew something was off. The paper inside was yellowed, older than the other documents. I flipped it open and frowned.
Handwritten notes. My uncle’s handwriting, but strange. A list of names. Some underlined. Some crossed out. There were dates, too, but they didn’t seem to correspond to book orders.
A cold unease settled in my chest. Was this what they were looking for?
I heard the creak of the floorboards behind me, and my breath caught.
Not alone.
I spun around, my pulse hammering, but it was only the wind rattling through the broken window.
Okay. Get a grip.
I yanked my phone out of my pocket and dialed the local police station. It rang twice before a curt voice answered.
“Medford Police Department.”
“My bookstore was broken into,” I said, my fingers tightening around the folder I’d found among the mess. “Page Turners on Maple Avenue.”
There was a brief pause, then, “Stay put, ma’am. Officers are on their way.”
Within fifteen minutes, two officers arrived, introducing themselves as Officers Hall and Davis, their uniforms pressed and their demeanor all business. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed; the usual morning crowd slowed down, curious glances cast in our direction.
These men carried weight in this town—that much was clear.
Hall stepped inside first. His sharp eyes scanned the chaos as Davis lingered near the door, his stance relaxed but his gaze keen.
“Anything missing?” Hall asked steadily.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, still clutching the folder. “But it looks like someone was searching for something.”
Davis stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
Reluctantly, I handed him the folder. He flipped through the pages, his expression remaining impassive, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, a hint of recognition that made my stomach clench. Hall looked at it over his partner’s shoulder.
“What exactly is this?” I pressed.
Davis handed the folder back, his eyes meeting mine. “Where did you find it?”
“On the floor, under the mess,” I replied, trying to sound calm.
The two officers exchanged a glance, a silent conversation that left me on edge.
“We'll need to take this down to the station for a closer look,” Hall finally said. “If you come across anything else out of the ordinary, let us know immediately.”
A cold unease seeped into my bones. “Do you think this was personal?”
Davis’s gaze was unreadable, his tone flat. “Everything in this town is personal.”
His words echoed in the quiet store, sending a shiver down my spine.
What the hell had my uncle been involved in? And why did it feel like I was about to find out the hard way?