Chapter 4
Eleven years ago
How had Shelby been lucky enough to score a bookstore job at the age of seventeen? She arranged the seasonal table with beach
reads and complemented the theme with various sideline products: a beach towel, a few totes, and some colorful cozies.
Her gaze drifted over Gram’s store from the tall wooden shelves, complete with gliding ladders, to the freestanding shelves
laden with books.
The brick building, built in 1923, sat near the center of town, set back from the other storefronts. It boasted a small yard
and a front porch that welcomed guests to sit and read awhile.
Beyond the front door, a wonderful old staircase led to their second-story shop. At the top it opened up into a lofted space
with honey-brown wood floors. Shelby loved every time-scarred plank and familiar squeak. The main room held fiction titles,
complete with tables for bestsellers, seasonal books, and a few sideline items. The antique checkout stand sat off to the
side next to the front staircase. Behind the stand was the first-editions wall, which contained the store’s only used books.
The Nonfiction section took up the smaller middle room, and the back room held the Children’s and Young Adult sections, complete with a cozy story-time corner. Gram’s office was tucked away downstairs between the back staircase and the rear exit.
Shelby had only been twelve when Gram rented the building and opened the bookstore. Having lost her husband a couple years
before, she wanted to use their savings to pursue her lifelong dream. She’d lost the love of her life and needed another purpose.
She called it her second story. So when this upstairs space became available, she snatched it up. She wanted the bookshop
to be a community hub, and that was exactly what it became.
But the store didn’t just cater to residents. Grandville was a college town, so the bookstore enjoyed its share of student
business. And the weekenders who came up from Charlotte to enjoy the fifty-square-mile lake often came in search of a beach
book or a cozy mystery. Shelby and Gram loved to welcome one and all into their little bookshop.
“Oh, that looks so nice.” On her way to the register, Gram stopped, appearing all summery in a sleeveless teal top and a pair
of white capris that matched her cropped hair. “You sure have a knack for arranging merch.”
“It’s so fun. Oh, do we still have those seashell earrings Meg Finlay made? Those would be perfect.”
“Over by the register. I’ll grab them for you.”
“Thanks.”
A customer who’d been perusing the Fiction section moved to the next room, browsing covers as she went.
Shelby moved Debbie Macomber’s new beach title to the side and slid the ocean-breeze candles to the front. She stood back.
There.
“Here you go.” Gram handed over the earrings as a lawn mower roared to life outside.
Shelby glanced out the picture window and down to the lawn but didn’t see anyone. “Did you pay someone to mow?” Shelby normally
tried to beat Gram to the chore. There was only a tiny lawn out front and a square of grass in the back.
“Dorothy asked if I had some work to keep Gray busy this summer. He’ll be mowing and landscaping the front yard for us.”
At the thought of Grayson Briggs, a strange hum vibrated beneath Shelby’s skin. “Oh. Well, you’ve been wanting to put some
flower beds out front.”
“It’ll be nice to spruce up the yard.” Gram snapped a picture of Shelby’s display with her phone. “Beautiful. Can you check
on the customer when you’re finished here? I’m gonna say hello to Gray.”
“Sure thing.”
Gram went down the stairs and slipped out the door, the bell tinkling after her. A minute later the mower shut off.
Gray, a fellow classmate, used to live in a trailer on the other side of Grandville with his father. But six months ago, halfway
through their junior year, his dad was arrested on charges of second-degree murder, and Gray moved in with his grandmother.
Something like that didn’t go unnoticed in a town with fewer than fifteen thousand residents. The case was the talk of the
town for months, and Ferris’s recent conviction only spurred it on. He was now serving time in the state penitentiary.
Rumors had swirled throughout the school about Gray. He was tall and darkly handsome and strutted through Grandville High’s
halls in weathered jeans and T-shirts, silent and brooding. Shelby had only ever shared one class with him—English—and he’d
hardly said a single word all year.
Though one time they’d reached the trash can at the same time, and his blue stare at such close range had made her blood buzz
in her veins. Time stood still for a few ticks of the clock before he finally dropped a wad of paper in the trash can and
swaggered back to his seat.
The seemingly insignificant moment had left her shaken.
Later she told herself her reaction had been based on fear.
She couldn’t get that direct gaze out of her head.
Or the harsh planes of his face. Everyone knew Gray was rough around the edges, and a violent streak certainly seemed to run in the family—Dorothy Briggs notwithstanding.
Now Shelby wondered how many of those rumors about Gray were actually true. Gram wouldn’t have hired a troublemaker, would
she? Not even for her best friend.
Shelby finished the display, then checked on the customer who was inspecting the Travel section. After a brief discussion
about the best North Carolina guides, Shelby left the woman to shop alone.
She wandered back to the front room where she peeked out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Gray. The mower sat in the middle
of the yard, but Gray and Gram were nowhere to be seen. She leaned closer and finally caught sight of him raking out the beds
at the base of the porch.
Shirtless.
His summer-bronzed skin gleamed under the morning sun, hugging every delicious muscle. And boy, did Gray Briggs have muscles.
He had a body like Michelangelo’s David , only living and breathing.
His biceps bulged as he worked the rake through an entire winter’s worth of decayed leaves and debris. His rippling abdomen
mesmerized her for a few long seconds. How did one acquire abs like that? Especially a guy who’d never deigned to join the
football or basketball team?
Only when he stopped raking did she tear her gaze away, letting it drift toward his face. Toward his eyes.
Which were aimed directly at her.
She gasped and jumped out of view, heart racing. But she’d been about one second too late.