Page 36 of Three of a Kind

There’s a small line at the counter, and I move to the back of it.

I guess I’ll bring Maverick a frozen coffee. He drinks that shit day and night, and it never fucks with his sleep schedule like it would mine.

There are still several patrons in front of me as I rock on my boots. To my left, there’s an opening that leads down three or four steps. My eyes widen when I spot the stacks of leather-bound books.

My mother loves classics.

She collects first editions and other specialty books. Really, anything with a story behind it.

She also has a special fascination with books chronicling the beginnings of pack formation across the world.

Packs didn’t used to be the norm and…

I stumble down the bottom step as Brooklyn’s hazel eyes meet mine. She leans against the glass counter next to the register.

The way the bookstore is set up, when you walk down the stairs, the checkout counter is on the right, with a small office behind it. On the left are the few tables, and straight ahead is a wall of books with more aisles off to the right.

I manage to catch myself without face-planting…but it’s close.

This must be the universe telling me to take note.

It’s not fucking around.

I’ve run into her twice after searching for her for six months.

Her mouth falls open as her eyes widen.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my coat to help hide the guns under each shoulder. It didn’t even register that I’m still wearing them.

She takes a step back from the glass, and my heart races. Her long, dark waves fall around her shoulders as she moves.

Goddamn, she’s even more radiant than I remember.

I stare at her for an awkward length of time before I get my shit together. The way her gaze slides from my head to my chest has me pulling my shoulders back.

I knew she was attracted to us that night.

She was shy, but the energy was on point.

Rarely do I find myself interested in anyone. It’s why I took notice and also probably why my brain hasn’t let go of finding her.

And here she is.

“C-Can I help you with something?” she asks, swallowing thickly.

My eyes narrow.

Is she really going to play it off like she doesn’t remember me?

Her eyes dart past me, and something inside me screams to check.

My blood runs cold when I spot Avan motherfucking Barrett standing on the top step, like he’s preparing to come down into the bookstore.

I paste on a plastic smile and focus back on Brooklyn. “Just looking for a gift for my mom. Do you happen to have any first editions or signed copies?”

“A couple,” she says, swallowing thickly. “They’re right back here, if you want to follow me.”

Avan Barrett is here.

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