Chapter 11
Eleven years ago
Shelby fumed as she placed the Nora Roberts novels on the New Fiction shelf. Giving Gray a ride home yesterday had been a
huge mistake. He’d gotten under her skin and she couldn’t even figure out why. He was just so... so maddening . So arrogant. Who did he think he was, calling her Little Miss Sunshine, disparaging her boyfriend, insulting her reading
material?
Speaking of which, she’d gotten home last night only to discover her book was missing from her car. She’d planned to finish
it last night, but no. Gray had stolen it, and that left her with nothing to do except play chess with her dad. She was terrible
at the game, and her dad went on a tangent about his long-lost wife the way he did sometimes when he was sad and lonely. Shelby
got it. Mom had deserted Caleb and her, too, after all. But at some point you had to move on. Boredom and the depressing topic
had gotten the best of her—she ate two sleeves of Double Stuf Oreos and went to bed early.
And it was all Gray’s fault because if Shelby had had her book, she would’ve been tucked away in her room, enjoying a satisfying
happily ever after.
“You got some grudge against Nora, honey?” Gram’s voice startled her from her thoughts. “You’re damaging those dust jackets.”
Perhaps she’d been shoving the hardcovers onto the shelves with a little too much vigor. “Sorry, Gram.”
“Something on your mind?”
Gram seemed to have a soft spot for Gray, so complaining about him would hardly do any good. Besides, he wouldn’t be hanging
around the shop much longer. He was almost finished with the landscaping, and then he’d only mow once a week or so. “Nothing
worth sharing.”
“If you say so. Well, when you’re done there, see if you can do something about that front table display, would you? It needs
your artistic touch.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Ten minutes later she was rearranging the display near the window when Gray pulled up to the curb. So he’d fixed his truck.
Good for him, because she wasn’t offering him a ride home ever again. Even if the rumors about him weren’t true, he sure didn’t
do himself any favors, going around exasperating people.
She waited until he was strutting up the sidewalk before she bounded down the stairs and exited the store. The July heat sucked
the air from her lungs, but she was too focused on her mission to be distracted.
His eyes caught on her as he dropped his backpack on the grass. Then that cocky smile curved his lips.
She strode down the walkway. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
A family came up the sidewalk, heading toward the bookstore.
She moved aside to let the group pass. When they’d mounted the porch steps, Shelby turned back to Gray. “You stole my book
from my car.”
“Relax, Sunshine. I just borrowed it.”
“Whatever for?”
“Even we Neanderthals can read, you know.”
She huffed. Crossed her arms. “You expect me to believe you actually want to read a romance novel?”
“Not want to read. Already read.” He withdrew the book from his book bag and gave the cover a once-over.
“It’s not Lee Child, but I’ll admit it exceeded my expectations.
That Harper chick was tough as nails, but man, did she have some issues.
Nick was one patient dude. The bear scene was comical. ” He extended the book.
She took it, scrambling for a response. She stared at the book as if it might hold the key to eternal life.
“Cat got your tongue, Sunshine?”
Face warming, she met his gaze. “You expect me to believe you read the whole thing? In one night?”
“Well, I did stay up past midnight, but more or less. Even the touchy-feely stuff was well done. Good humor. And I appreciate
a well-done character arc as much as the next guy. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil the ending since you’re only on page 155.” He
shook his head and tsked. “Does your grandma know you dog-ear pages?”
She couldn’t believe he’d read the entire book. Not only read it but wasn’t denigrating it or playing it off like he was too
masculine to appreciate something as insipid as love.
“Well, I can see I’ve shocked you. Either that or you’re having heatstroke—a distinct possibility today.”
Shelby didn’t know what to say. Gray seemed to catch her off guard at every turn. She glanced back at the store. “I have to
get back to work.”
“That makes two of us.” He grabbed a shovel and proceeded to spread mulch around the bushes. “Have a great day, Sunshine.”
Gray stepped into his dad’s old truck, put down the windows, and turned the key. It started with its usual unsteady rumble.
The thing was well over a decade old and on its last legs. The air didn’t work, which made a scorching day like today a real
pain.
He’d finished his work at the bookshop for the day and then gone to his other part-time job at Lang’s Hardware.
Joe Lang wasn’t exactly thrilled to be his boss.
He’d stuck Gray in the garden center because no one else wanted to brave the heat.
But Gray preferred working with the plants to encountering people who looked down their noses at him.
Plus it gave him time to think. And today he’d spent most of that time thinking about Shelby. Remembering the way she’d strode
toward him this morning all hot and bothered brought a smile to his face every time. He loved that sassy side of her. And
her obvious shock that he’d read her book was equally gratifying. Even if the story hadn’t been pretty good, it would’ve been
worth finishing just to knock her for a loop like that.
He stuck his elbow out the window as he turned onto Main Street, the heat licking his skin with a hot, sticky tongue. The
sign for the Dairy Bar appeared ahead. It was almost suppertime, but the thought of something cold and refreshing had him
slowing as he neared the entrance. He’d bring Granny her favorite—a strawberry shake with lots of whipped cream and a cherry.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one willing to spoil his supper—the lot was half full. He pulled into a slot near the ordering
window, shut off the engine, and jumped from his truck. He was nearly to the line when he spotted Shelby at one of the bright
red picnic tables—along with Brendan, Devon, and Drew.
His gaze met Shelby’s, locking for a solid five seconds. Then Brendan turned to see why she’d stopped licking her cone. His
gaze followed hers, finding Gray, and his expression soured.
Gray’s gut twisted. He wanted to turn right back around and leave. But Devon and Drew had also spotted him, and no way was
Gray turning tail now. He got in the line.
“Hey, Briggs,” Devon called. “Nice truck.” A round of laughter followed.
Gray pretended he hadn’t heard, but heat climbed his neck and settled in his face. He could handle being harassed, but having it happen in front of Shelby amplified the humiliation. Mostly he tried to avoid these situations, but he didn’t see a graceful way out at this point.
“Looks like you got a pretty nasty scratch on it though.”
“You can hardly see it for all the dents.” More laughter rang out.
When he’d left the broken-down truck in town overnight, “someone” had keyed it on both sides. Should’ve known.
They were speaking too quietly now for him to make out their words, but judging by the occasional snickering, it was safe
to say they were talking about him.
The couple in front of him moved aside and Gray stepped up and placed his order.
His first run-in with Brendan had been in sixth grade when he’d entered the boys’ restroom to find him dumping Patrick Ballard
upside down into the trash can. Gray pushed Brendan away and rescued Patrick. The poor guy, probably dying of humiliation,
darted out of the restroom just as the fight ensued. Devon and Drew came to Brendan’s rescue, and Mr. Willard came to see
what all the ruckus was about.
Mr. Willard was Devon’s uncle, so when the boys ended up in the principal’s office, he believed the other boys’ story. Despite
Gray’s insistence it was a lie. Ever since that fight, Brendan, Devon, and Drew had done their best to make his life miserable,
and somehow they always got away with it.
It had been his first realization that he would never overcome his dad’s trashy reputation. Normal kids with upstanding parents
and money would always come out ahead here. And that sure hadn’t changed when Dad was sentenced to sixteen years in prison.
Even Gray’s grandma’s good name couldn’t save him. She was aware of the challenges he faced, but he tried to downplay them
as much as possible. She’d suffered enough with everything his dad put her through.
Drew’s cackle broke into his reverie.
What was Shelby doing with these clowns? She was too good for the likes of Brendan. Not that Gray deserved her either.
At least they’d stopped calling out to him, but that was probably for her benefit. Brendan couldn’t give away what a complete
tool he was. Shelby might pretend to dislike Gray, but she wasn’t cruel. She was the type to stand up for the downtrodden.
And let’s face it, that was him right now.
“Chocolate malt, strawberry shake,” the teen called.
“Thanks.” Gray collected his order and headed toward his truck.
“You have a real good evening, Briggs,” Devon called.
Laughter trailed him, making him grit his teeth.
The embarrassment lingered the whole ride home. He had to stop thinking so much about Shelby. He couldn’t rescue her from
those idiots any more than she could rescue him from this town. He’d do the latter part himself with that scholarship. For
now he’d just finish his work at the bookshop and put all thoughts of Shelby Thatcher behind him.
Shelby resolutely kept her eyes inside the shop even if business was slow today. She’d been unboxing new arrivals, which put
her in the front of the store—in sight of where Gray put his final touches on the landscaping.
Last time she checked he’d been dripping with sweat though it wasn’t yet noon. She couldn’t eradicate the image of his back
muscles and biceps flexing as he shoveled mulch around the new shrubs.