Page 80 of The Games We Play
“I should get going,” he said, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Can’t leave everyone alone too long, even with Rhodes holding down the fort.”
Logan’s going to help Penny…
I sat with that thought a second longer before something clicked. I looked up at Boone, a slow smirk spreading across my face.
He was already watching me, grinning like he knew I’d finally caught up.
“Thanks for stopping by,” I said, standing to see him out. “Even if you did interrupt my lunch.”
“And the romance book you’ve got sitting on the table?” he teased, nodding toward the pink paperback, cartoon couple mid-kiss on the cover.
“They’re not half bad,” I said, shrugging. “You should try one sometime. The stuff you learn…” I gave a low whistle. “It’s a goldmine.”
“My girlfriend writes them,” Boone said with a cocky grin. “Trust me. I know exactly what’s in those pages.”
I laughed. “Fair point.”
We said our goodbyes, and once the door clicked shut behind him, I reached for my phone, opened my messages, and pulled up Logan’s number.
Time to send a text and make myself busy this weekend.
24
PENNY
“Penelope!”
My name floated up the staircase, sharp and familiar, just as everything in my arms began to slip. I huffed, trying to hold on to the wobbling stack of books and the trio of bags tangled around my shoulders. My lunchbox dug into my side, my purse strap slid down my arm, and the oversized work tote—my trusty, overstuffed companion—threatened to drag me off balance.
The books were heavier than I expected, so right now, I regret taking them off the library’s hands. We’d gotten new editions of a few well-loved titles, and the worn-out copies weren’t being checked out anymore. Normally, they’d be carted off to the recycling center, their pages pulped and forgotten. But that never sat right with me.
There was a Little Free Library on the edge of Faircloud Community Park. It wasn’t much, just a weathered wooden box with a glass front and a squeaky hinge. I figured it was the perfect spot for someone else to discover these old stories and give them a second life.
Still, by the time I made it to my front door, I was pretty sure my shoulder was going to give out.
Grunting, I twisted my head as far as I could. Down at the bottom of the stairs stood Sandy, hands on her hips, expression unreadable but determined.
Of course.
I hadn’t stopped into the shop after work, mostly because I was on the verge of toppling over, but clearly, she had something on her mind.
“Give me one second, Sandy!” I called, fumbling with the doorknob. “Let me just put this stuff down before I collapse!”
With a final burst of effort—and maybe a prayer—I managed to push open the door and stumble inside. The books nearly tumbled from my arms, but I caught them just in time and deposited them onto the dining table with a loudthunk, followed by a sigh as I let my bags slide to the floor in a heap.
Light footsteps pattered up the stairs, and within seconds, Sandy appeared in my doorway. Her signature puff of silver hair bounced with each step. She wore her floral apron tied in a perfect bow at her waist, a pair of faded blue capri pants, and her well-worn white sneakers that somehow always looked spotless.
Hands on my hips, I turned to her, still catching my breath.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, huffing out a breath with exaggerated flair.
“Well, don’t you look lovely today!” she sang, her eyes twinkling as they swept over me.
I glanced down at my dress—Aztec-inspired patterns in bold reds and sun-kissed oranges, with cap sleeves that fluttered as I moved. It was one of my favorite pieces, especially paired with my brown mule heels. I smoothed a hand down the fabric instinctively, a shy smile tugging at my lips.
“Thank you,” I murmured, giving a little twirl that sent the hem swirling around my knees. “But I’m guessing you didn’t chase me up here just to compliment my outfit.”
Sandy laughed, stepping deeper into the apartment. “That Logan boy is still coming tomorrow to help with deliveries, right?”
