Page 2 of Overtime with Orion
He took a step closer. Close enough that I caught a hint of his cologne—something woodsy and warm that made me want to lean into him.
“Actually, I was looking for her,” he said. “I’m Orion.”
Orion. The name hit me like a lightning bolt. Cassie’s brother. The football star. The one she talked about constantly, whose career had ended in injury, who she’d been worried sick about for months.
And I had just spent the last five minutes reorganizing his sister’s booth while lecturing him about proper mystery series organization.
“Oh God.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “You’re Cassie’s brother.”
His smile faltered slightly. “That’s me.”
There was something guarded in his expression now, like he was waiting for me to change how I was acting around him. Like he expected me to get all star-struck or weird.
Instead, I did what I always did when I was nervous. I kept talking.
“She’s so excited you’re here. She’s been planning this booth for weeks, talking about how having her famous brother around might actually get people to buy her books.” I bit my lip. “Though honestly, she doesn’t need celebrity endorsement. Her mysteries are incredible. The way she weaves clues through each book in the series—readers just need to be able to find Book One to start the journey.”
“You’ve read her books?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“All of them. I special-ordered the first one for the library before she was even published here, and I’ve been hand-selling them to patrons ever since.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s got this gift for making you care about characters right before she puts them in danger. And her series continuity is flawless—if you read them in order.”
Something warm flickered in his eyes. “She does have a gift, doesn’t she?”
The way he said it, with such pride and affection, made my chest tight. I’d spent many hours listening to Cassie worry about her big brother, wondering if he was okay, missing him. And here he was, and despite whatever he was going through, that love for his sister was written all over his face.
“She missed you,” I said softly.
“Yeah?” His voice had gone quieter too.
“Yeah. She talks about you all the time. Good things,” I added quickly. “Funny stories, mostly. Like the time you tried to cook her breakfast when she was twelve and nearly burned down the kitchen making scrambled eggs.”
He laughed, a real laugh this time. “She told you about that?”
“She tells me everything. You’re kind of her hero, you know.”
The smile faded from his face, replaced by something I couldn’t quite read. “I don’t feel much like anyone’s hero these days.”
The honesty in his voice caught me off guard. There was pain there, carefully hidden but unmistakable. Without thinking, I took a step closer.
“Heroes don’t always feel heroic,” I said. “That’s what makes them heroes.”
He stared at me for a long moment, those hazel eyes searching my face like he was trying to figure me out. The air between us felt charged, electric, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how close we were standing.
“Larkin.”
The way he said my name made my pulse skip.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For taking care of her books. For taking care of her.”
“I—“ The words got stuck in my throat because he was looking at me like I was something precious, something worth protecting. “It’s what friends do.”
“Is it?” He reached out, slowly, and brushed a leaf from my hair that I hadn’t even realized was there. His fingers grazed my cheek, and I swore I stopped breathing. “Because I’m thinking friends don’t usually look at each other like this.”
“Like what?” The question came out as barely a whisper.
“Like we want to forget all the reasons they shouldn’t kiss each other.”
