Page 4 of In Every Chapter

Embarrassment burned my cheeks and neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” I ducked my head. Stop rambling! “A Shirley Temple, please. Uh, thank you.” Wow, I couldn’t talk tonight. Not that I was a stellar conversationalist most nights, but especially not where a cute guy was concerned.

Greyson didn’t seem offended, just waved at Marcel behind the counter. “One Shirley Temple and a Dr Pepper, please.”

Marcel, the bartender, eyed me carefully from under his bushy grey eyebrows, and only once I gave him a small nod did he slide our drinks across the counter. He wasn’t a chatty guy. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard him say a word, but he slung a mean soda, looked out for his female patrons, and didn’t mind when a girl sat at his counter crying into her third Shirley Temple of the night.

Not that I had experience with that or anything.

“So does this always work for you?” I asked, sipping my citrusy concoction. “Play the hero, almost beat a girl at trivia, flash that million-dollar Marine smile, and buy her a drink?” Although I hadn’t even seen his full smile yet, something told me it was a sight to behold.

“Only with the girls who beat me at trivia,” Greyson corrected, eyes twinkling.

I arched an eyebrow. “I’m a librarian, so nerdiness comes with the territory. What’s your excuse?”

Greyson’s expression faded from amused into soft remembrance. Like he saw a world beyond the crowded diner. “Tolkien was my grandpa’s favourite author. Every summer when I was teen, a bunch of my brothers and I headed south to work on their farm outside Twin Falls. Grandpa and I traded trivia.”

There was something about the way he said that—a longing mixed with sadness. “He sounds lovely.” Like a storybook grandpa really. I was picturing the Alm-Uncle from Heidi or maybe shy, sweet Matthew Cuthbert from Anne of Green Gables. Granted, I had no personal experience with grandparents since I’d never known mine. But books gave a girl room to dream, and I’d dreamed plenty about the grandparents I never met.

“He was.”

Ah, that was it. Connection to a lost loved one. Something I understood. I propped my elbow on the counter, chin in hand, and swiveled to face him better. “I’m sorry. I know that’s hard.”

Greyson shrugged, his Adam’s apple bobbling as he took a swig of his soda. “Thanks. It was a long time ago, but events like tonight make me feel closer to him.”

“Would he be disappointed you were beaten?”

Greyson’s flirty grin popped right back out in full force this time, and wow, good thing I was sitting down. That smile was military-grade dangerous. Did they hand those out after boot camp? They should come with a warning label. “Not when it’s by a pretty woman.”

My cheeks heated, and the urge to giggle overwhelmed me. Giggle. I, Paisley Grace McBride Nichols, never giggled. Not even with Jared, now that I thought about it. So why did this Marine, my bestie’s older brother to boot, have my heart beating in a way it hadn’t in years? Had it ever?

And he thought I was pretty? I was under no illusion of my own beauty. I was unremarkably average with green eyes that needed glasses, a dusting of freckles, and a willowy build that forever made me look fragile. My most prominent feature was my waist-length chestnut hair with its stripe of premature grey and flyaway bangs.

Besides, I wasn’t ready to dip back into the dating game. I’d only come out tonight because of Juliet’s bossy attitude dragging me from bed—not to find a man. She had used her scary lawyer voice to order me around, and one simply did not say no to that tone. Watch out, bad guys, Juliet Satterfield was a bulldozer.

That slimebag doesn’t deserve an ounce of your guilt for what he did to you.

Juliet’s words rang in my brain. She was right. I knew that. And I wasn’t mourning the man—my ex-husband—who’d wooed me with false promises, then broke me after he took off his charming mask and left me grappling to rebuild my life without him.

But I didn’t trust myself to trust another man. I’d made a terrible decision before, and a broken heart had morphed my mother into the woman she became. I’d vowed to never become her. But I’d messed up the first time. Never again.

Still, that smile . . .

Greyson was a Marine, his shoulders amazingly broad and sturdy. I let my eyes linger there, on the way his muscles filled out the black T-shirt underneath the flannel hugging his tall frame, before dropping my gaze. It might be nice to have someone else do the saving for once.

I’d never had a partner. Not really. Maybe the world wouldn’t feel so heavy with another soul to shoulder the load.

I shot another glance at Juliet, but she still ignored me. Surely there was some sort of girl code against dating your bestie’s brother. I’d read enough books to know it was even considered a trope—usually with disastrous results for the bestie relationship. But when I eyed Juliet again, I could have sworn she was smirking.

A broken heart, a best friend, and a protective Marine who loved Tolkien as much as I did—what was a girl to do?

Chapter one

Paisley

Five and half years later . . .

“Paisley Grace, are we getting this show on the road?” my husband’s amused baritone called from the hallway. “Or do I need to come get you?” The words held a flirtatious threat I’d have to be deaf to ignore.

“Coming!” If he came to get me, we would both be late for work. I snapped shut the volume of Sherlock Holmes short stories I was perusing and tucked the last of my notes about summer-reading-list ideas into my leather satchel and stepped out of our home library into the hall. Did I have everything? Lunch. Check. Reading list. Check. I nodded, satisfied everything was in apple-pie order.