Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

He eyed me, patient, waiting.

“I remember my mother reading to me. And my father. They’d switch off every night. I loved the way their voices shaped the stories on the pages, painting more vivid pictures in my mind than the illustrations.” I bit back a grin. “Then, when I learned to read, I devoured everything in my school library. I picked a new book every day. And my mother would take me to the bookstore on my birthday or Christmas to buy ones that I wanted to own.” I sighed. “And throughout school, I clung to my fictional friends who were more realistic than the people in my school.” I swallowed hard. “I knew I wanted to be a librarian in the sixth grade. Because the librarian in my school was kind and understanding and let me use the place as a sanctuary when girls and boys were meaner than I could handle. I found safety and comfort among the stacks, among the characters I could depend on.” A wave of pain crashed over me. “And in college, I branched out. Trusted easier. Felt it was time to find my tribe, assuming that surely since middle school and high school were behind me, I’d find like-minded adults to share passions with.” I took a gulp of hot coffee to chase away the old sting in my chest. “I was wrong. College was high school only with legal drinking and no chaperones.” I rolled my eyes, setting down my mug. “I once again relied on my friends in the library. And that’s where I met Quinn.” A fresh smile broke my lips. “And she turned out to be one of the people worth waiting for.”

Logan sat quiet, still, completely tuned in to my story. He didn’t jump to speak, didn’t say I should’ve tried harder, should’ve had more fun. And in that sweet silence, as he absorbed my words, something sank deeper inside me, like a stone in the ocean.

Logan and I weren’t just friends.

There was something more here, between us, vibrating down that connection I couldn’t ignore. I rarely opened up to people like I had with him, for reasons I’d just explained. But it was so easy. So effortless. And I’d known it before he’d even kissed me, but had tried my best to ignore it.

“Anyway,” I said, worried if I sat quietly for one more moment my mind and heart would sync up and I’d tell Logan just what I really wanted. And that would ruin what we had. I couldn’t risk that. “That’s how I knew. I dove into my degree, finished early, and was lucky enough to land the job at the Charleston Library when the previous librarian retired.”

“While I hate that you had to seek refuge in a library,” he said. “I’m blown away by your passion.”

I tried to wave him off, but he caught my hand, holding it steady on the table.

“I’m serious, Delaney,” he said, eyes trailing over the curves of my face, my neck, and back up again. “You’re incredible.”

A flush rushed over my skin.

“You’re just saying that because I bought you coffee and pastries.” I tried to lighten the mood, tried to make a joke out of his sincere words. Because the alternative? Taking them to heart? God, it would crush me. I eyed the bits of tart left on his plate. “You should finish that,” I said. “You’re entirely too skinny.”

He smirked, the grin equal parts wicked and endearing. Who could do that?

He plucked the last bite of tart off his plate and slipped it in his mouth, licking the stray sugar and cinnamon off his fingers.

Fuck.

A white-hot current of need flared straight down the center of me at the sight of his tongue, the way his lips wrapped around the pad of his finger. I wanted to be that finger, or the one doing the licking.

I cringed, clenching my eyes shut.

No. You’ll ruin everything. Stop.

“Happy now?” he asked, thankfully oblivious to my internal struggle.

I popped my eyes open, fastening the best smile I could on my face. “Yes,” I said, eying his cleaned plate. “Much better.”

“I have the rest of the night off,” he said. “What else would you like to do?”

My stomach fluttered with his assumption that we’d be spending the entirety of his time off, and in town, together. He traveled with the Reapers so much, and I missed him while he was gone. But he was here now and he wanted to be with me.

“Let’s go to your place.” The words left me in one big rush, and I cringed at the way his eyes flared. “I mean, sorry, wait. That sounded wrong. Back up.” I rolled my hands in a rewind motion, furthering my mortification. “I meant I’ve never seen your house. You’ve been to mine plenty of times.”