Chapter 1
Chapter one
Kate
Present Day
The Cedar Falls Library is quiet the way I like it best—late afternoon sun spilling through the front windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the light, and that familiar blend of old paper and hand sanitizer hanging in the air.
The kids’ corner is tidied, the returns stacked neatly at the end of the circulation desk, and I’m halfway through labeling boxes from the high school baseball team’s book drive.
The donation window closed last week, but he texted earlier to say he had “a few stragglers” left to drop off. I told him to leave them by the back door. Naturally, he took that as an invitation to walk right in.
The door creaks open just as I’m balancing two boxes on my knee.
“You really shouldn’t lift those alone,” Cam’s voice calls, smooth and teasing.
I don’t look up. “You say that every time I carry something heavier than a coffee cup, Wells.”
He laughs. “Just trying to keep you from filing an injury report, Katie.”
That nickname still gets me. Every time.
I turn toward him, doing my best to look unimpressed. “If you’re going to scold me, at least bring coffee next time.”
He steps further inside, sunlight catching the edge of his grin. His Cedar Falls Baseball T-shirt is soft and worn, sleeves snug around his biceps, jeans faded on his thighs in a way that should honestly be illegal.
“Wasn’t planning on scolding,” he says. “Just supervising.”
“Uh-huh.” He takes the boxes from me and winks. Winks. I shake it off, trying to stay composed. “How’d practice go today?”
“Off-season drills ended early.” He sets the boxes on the table by the circulation desk. “Organized the field house, then got everything ready for T-ball. Normal day.”
He walks back out the door and returns with a box bigger than the rest. My heart betrays me with a small kick when his forearm flexes under the weight.
“These are the last few from the team,” he says. “Didn’t want your shelves missing out on Baseball Digest, 2009 edition.”
“Truly a rare treasure.” I slice through the tape with a smile. “Was this part of your good-deed quota or just an excuse to leave the field early?”
“Both,” he admits, eyes glinting.
I try to ignore the warmth that always seems to follow him. We’re supposed to be casual, simple. The kind of thing without expectations or emotional landmines. But every time he looks at me like that—with easy affection and bright eyes—I start to think we both misunderstood the assignment.
“You could’ve just texted,” I say. “I’d have picked these up from the school.”
“Yeah, but then I’d miss this.” He gestures to the quiet library. “You. Here. Looking like a scene out of a romance novel.”
“Dangerous thing to say to a librarian.”
He smirks, and I hate how much I love that look on him.
He crouches down to grab another box, and my breath stutters when his arm brushes mine. It’s nothing.
“Where do you want these?” he asks.
“Back room. Against the wall by the reference section.”
He nods, carrying the box easily, and I follow with a smaller one, pretending not to watch the muscles in his back shift under that worn T-shirt. He sets the box down gently, then turns—standing too close in the narrow aisle between shelves.
“You’ve got glitter on your shoulder,” he says.
“What?”
He steps forward, brushing it away. His thumb lingers a beat too long, and suddenly breathing feels optional.
“Kinsey stopped by earlier,” I manage, voice tight. “She had leftover decorations from the wedding that I can use for craft hour.”
“Still celebrating, huh?”
“Something like that.”
His hand drops, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “Are you working late?”
“Just finishing inventory before summer reading madness kicks in.”
“You want help?”
I snort softly. “You’re volunteering to shelve books?”
“I’m versatile.”
“Hmm. You’re also supposed to be running a T-ball empire.”
“They’ll survive an hour without me.” His smile softens. “Besides, I like watching you work.”
My pulse jumps. “Wells.”
“Yeah?”
“You can’t keep saying things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me forget this is supposed to be simple.”
The air between us tightens. He smells like sunshine and fresh-cut grass, like everything I shouldn’t want.
“You’re tense,” he says, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You sure you don’t want me to carry the rest before you pull something?”
“Maybe I could use the help,” I answer too fast, and he grins wider because he knows he won.
“Tell me where to start, I’m yours to use for thirty minutes.”
I show him the stack of boxes and where they need to go. He nods and moves past me, close enough that my shoulder grazes his chest, and every nerve in my body goes on alert.
By the time we finish stacking boxes, I’ve convinced myself my pulse will never settle again.
He wipes his hands on his jeans, turns to me, and tips his chin. “Mission accomplished.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“Anytime, Katie.”
He hesitates by the door. “I’ll see you tonight? You’re bringing Evie to T-ball practice, right? I promised her extra turns at bat.”
“She’d riot if I didn’t.”
“Good.” His eyes hold mine a second longer than necessary. “I’ll save you a spot on the bleachers.”
When he leaves, the door swings shut quietly behind him. I press a hand to my chest and take a slow breath, but it doesn’t help.
No strings attached, I remind myself.