Page 5 of In This Moment

“Not sure yet. I have a meeting with the Belles on Monday.”

The Belles? Was that some kind of garden club for debutants?

Forest took a sip of beer and did a double-take at Graham’s expression. “I forget sometimes you don’t know all the inner workings of Vallantine.” He chuckled, shifting in his seat, and leaned back. “So, the Vallantine Library was built by the original town founder, William Vallantine, for his wife, Katherine, who loved books. It was on the estate until a hurricane took out the mansion in 1898 and killed some of the family. That’s where the park is now. The library survived. About six months ago, the last living descendant, Sheldon Brown, decided he couldn’t handle it anymore. He and his wife, Rosemary, bequeathed it to the Bookish Belles.”

Part of that Graham knew from chatter around town or his employees, but… “Bookish Belles?” Only in the south. It was like another country sometimes, he was learning.

“Yep. Rosemary Fillmore, or Brown now, was our eighth grade teacher. The Belles were her favorite students, and in my graduating class. They love all things literature. In fact, their mothers started a bookclub way back. Don’t know if it’s still running. I’d have to ask Mama.”

Ah, okay. Probably the right people to leave a historical library to, then, if that was the case.

“Speak of the devils.” Forest bumped his chin toward the bar. “That’s them.”

There were quite a few patrons at the bar, but only three females together. And wearing pajamas, no less. “A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. There’s a joke in there somewhere.”

Forest huffed a laugh. “The redhead is Dorothy, named from The Wizard of Oz. She’s an accountant. The brunette who looks like she’s photoshopped? That’s Scarlett, Gone With the Wind, obviously, and funny enough, she owns a plantation where she has an event business. The blonde’s Rebecca from—”

“Huckleberry Finn. Tom Sawyer’s feisty girl.” It was Graham’s favorite book. He couldn’t see her face, she had her back to him, but it looked an awful lot like Mavis’s granddaughter from next door. He’d been a jerk to her this afternoon. Not on purpose, but nonetheless, a jerk.

“That’s the one. She just moved back home after her grandmother died.” An ah-ha expression lit Forest’s features. “Your old neighbor.”

Graham grunted. Guess it was her. “I owe her an apology. I stuck my foot in it earlier.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.” He did need to fix it, though. He’d made assumptions and said crap while in a pissed off mood instead of biting his tongue. And after she’d tried to give him advice. Word got out about that, and the town would have another reason to shun him, besides being a new guy from up north.

Finally, she turned from the bar, passing to-go bags of food to her companions. She looked like a different woman than the one by the curb outside their homes. Gone was the coifed champagne-colored hairstyle, perfect cosmetics, and elegant black dress. Instead, she wore a pair of gray sweats, a pink tee, no war paint, and her hair was up in a messy knot. Most notable was the dull etchings of grief her in features from before had been replaced with a carefree smile. The kind that lit her eyes.

Amazing eyes. Baby blues, and too big for her face. They were a focal point and had stolen the wind from his sails this afternoon.

But her, like this? Damn. Nothing sexier than a natural woman, minus the polish.

She spotted him from across the room, their gazes locking. For a moment, time sucked through a vacuum as his gut heated. Stirrings of attraction nudged from behind his ribcage.

Her smile flatlined, indicating she hadn’t felt the same magnetic pull. Bummer. She tilted her head to say something to her friends, then began making her way over. The two others followed in her wake. It reminded him of a high school drama clique.

Her walk bordered on sauntering. Hip sway, hip sway. Great body. Full breasts playing cat and mouse with the V of her shirt. Legs that went into the next zip code. She was slender to the point of breakable, but instinct told him her backbone was pure titanium and she wouldn’t easily snap.

Strong women were sexy.

She set her hand on the table—no ring, he noted—and leaned into it. “Forest, good to see you. It’s been a hot minute.” Her gaze shifted to Graham. “You should be mindful of the company you keep.”

“Wheeeew-weee.” A chuckle, and Forest leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Done made her mad, my friend.”

Mercy, she was hot as hell. Fiery, indeed, proving her namesake correct. She’d had a slight twang to her accent in their first encounter, barely detectable, but it was currently sliding toward a drawl as if preparing for battle. The heat in his gut shifted south.

The last thing he needed was to get tangled in a woman or relationship, but she was fascinating. Not that she appeared interested in him or anything.

“That I did.” Graham studied her a moment. Fair complexion. Thin, angular face. High cheekbones that were flushed. He suddenly wanted to make her blush everywhere, and vaguely realized he was in trouble. Somehow, he didn’t give a damn. “I deserve whatever punishment is deemed fit.”

Well, look at him. He hadn’t been a part of the human race or interested in rejoining for going on six months. Also, lust at first sight could be a dangerous game that he rarely won. Yet, here he was, flirting with a gorgeous blonde in a bar.

The brunette—Scarlett?—waved her hand in front of her face. “Y’all be hotter than blue blazes.”

Southerners and their expressions. Sometime in the realm of never, he’d get used to it.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He leaned his elbows on the table, still eyeing Rebecca. “Graham Roberts. And you are?”

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