Page 67 of Just This Once

I sat up, tucking the blankets around me. “Early day?” I asked.

It was moments like these when unease skittered under my skin. Moments when I had to remind myself I had no hold over this man and that our arrangement was supposed to be casual.

Even when they feel anythingbutcasual.

He turned, hitting me with the full force of Whip King, impeccably dressed in dark slacks and a shirt and tie. My stomach tightened at the way his chest filled out his shirt and nipped in at his tapered waist.

“My interview for lieutenant is today.” His face was unreadable.

“You’re a shoo-in.” I smiled brightly, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Dad loves you.”

Whip’s reply was only a strange, dismissive grunt as he turned to the mirror for one last check of his appearance.

My brain scrambled. “You deserve the promotion. He’ll see that.”

Whip offered a flat-lipped smile and nod. Worry pricked at my brain. I had picked up on a few signs that things were slightlyoffbetween us, but I’d found ways to rationalize each and every one.

Extra hours in his workshop.He’s finishing up his project while I worked with the Bluebirds on details for the carnival.

The internet search about a private investigator I’d peeked at over his shoulder.Probably something work related... maybe?

The woman’s jean jacket hanging in the back of his closet.Okay, fine. That one is kind of odd.

Before he left the bedroom, Whip stopped in the doorway. “Meet me for lunch if you’re free? Maybe we can drive a few miles out of town and find a quiet country road.”

I pouted. “I have plans to finalize the carnival. It’s our last hurrah. Plus, I promised Bug to help at the library. According to her, their Children’s Department is atravesty, and it’s the only way I know how to repay her for all her help with the foundation. Rain check?”

“Sure.” I got a curt nod before he checked his watch.

I frowned. “Everything okay?”

“Just nerves, I guess.” He crossed the room one last time and planted a kiss on my mouth.

I wanted to arch into him, let his cologne cloak me. Instead, Whip pulled back, leaving my heated skin to chill in the empty bedroom after he left.

Sneaking around was fun and forbidden at first, but lately it had been feeling more and more like a burden. Just last week we’d passed each other downtown, and I had to catch myself before I threw my arms around him. Instead, I smiled politely, waved, and kept walking.

It was pure torture.

There was no denying that my emotions were taking the helm. Logically, I knew Whip and I were spending every spare moment together. His actions matched his words. Whatever was blossoming between us was natural and evolving.

I didn’t need to worry about past insecurities or that he could use my feelings against me.

I just had to trust my gut.

Trouble was, my gut was telling me Whip may have more secrets than just the fact he was sneaking around with his boss’s daughter.

The summer sunfiltered through the leaded windows of the Outtatowner Public Library, casting a warm glow on the creaky wooden floor. The familiar scent of well-loved books and the hushed murmur of whispered conversations greeted me as I stepped into the cozy building. The soft, ambient hum of fluorescent lights overhead mingled with the occasional squeak of chairs being pulled out and the rustle of pages turning. Mahogany shelves, lined with stories waiting to be discovered, reached toward the ceiling, their polished spines creating a mosaic of colors. The air held a quiet reverence, broken only by the rhythmic clacking of the librarian’s keyboard and the distant hum of the ancient air conditioner.

Sunbeams painted patterns on the worn carpet, guiding my steps through the doorway, where adventure and romance awaited readers on every shelf. The air seemed to shimmer with the promise of hidden tales. I sucked in a lungful of breath and closed my eyes.

Since my childhood, libraries had always been a safe space.

A refuge.

Somewhere I could read tales of romance or adventure or live through the perils of a murder mystery from the safety of its walls.

Despite its charm, the library was surprisingly empty as I wound my way through the stacks toward the heart of the building. A few children picked through books, but I immediately understood why Bug had sought out my help. I worked with kids every day and knew that in its current state, the Outtatowner Public Library, with its muted greens and drab beiges, was extremelyun-fun.

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