A DOUBLE SURPRISE...

Rodeo cowboy Grayson Cox had no intention of returning home to Cupid’s Bow, Texas. His troubled past was something best left behind. But when he suddenly finds himself serving as guardian to twin godsons, Grayson knows he’s in way too deep to stay away.

Thankfully, not everyone in Cupid’s Bow holds a grudge. Librarian Hadley Lanier remembers Grayson’s rebellious youth, but she also sees how good he is with the twins—and she definitely likes what she sees. It feels like a perfect match, until Hadley receives a career opportunity she’s long dreamed of, leaving her with a tough decision. But how can she choose between something she’s always wanted and the man she’s discovering she can’t live without?

TANYA MICHAELS, a New York Times bestselling author and five-time RITA® Award nominee, has been writing love stories since middle-school algebra class (which probably explains her maths grades). Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received awards from readers and reviewers alike. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative kids and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

Also available by Tanya Michaels

Falling for the Sheriff

Falling for the Rancher

The Christmas Triplets

The Cowboy Upstairs

Claimed by a Cowboy

Tamed by a Texan

Rescued by a Ranger

Her Secret, His Baby

Second Chance Christmas

Her Cowboy Hero

Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information

The Cowboy’s Texas Twins

Tanya Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07732-3

THE COWBOY’S TEXAS TWINS

© 2018 Tanya Michna

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thank you,

Johanna Raisanen and Kathleen Scheibling,

for years of encouragement

and brilliant editorial suggestions.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

Chapter One

When Grayson Cox left town at eighteen, he’d sworn hell would freeze over before he ever moved back. Now, ten years later, his stomach clenched as the truck’s headlights hit the Welcome to Cupid’s Bow sign. Hope the Devil likes ice skating.

Grayson still couldn’t believe he was taking Aunt Vi up on her offer, but he had a damn good reason. His gaze darted to the rearview mirror, and he checked on the passengers behind him. Make that two good reasons. His godsons, twin five-year-olds, were asleep in their booster seats, each leaning toward the other, so close their blond heads were almost touching. The two and a half weeks since their parents’ funeral had been full of upheaval—tears, bad dreams, acting out; this rare moment of peace reminded Grayson of the morning they’d been christened, cherubic infants who hadn’t even cried when the priest poured the water.

Blaine had heckled him before the ceremony for getting the twins confused in their matching christening gowns. “What kind of loser can’t tell his own godsons apart?”

Grayson had responded with the same mock-derision. “What kind of loser picks a bull-riding rodeo bum as a godfather? Don’t you know any respectable people?”

At that, Blaine had squeezed his arm. “A few, but they ain’t family.”

Neither were Blaine and Grayson—not technically. But they’d been as close as brothers, and Grayson had doted on Miranda, his honorary sister-in-law.

I can’t believe they’re gone. He swallowed hard, fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Grayson was no stranger to tragedy—he’d been orphaned at fifteen—but even he had trouble processing a twist of fate this cruel. His own father wrapping a car around a tree in a drunken stupor had probably been inevitable. But Blaine and Miranda Stowe had been big-hearted, wonderful people enjoying their first romantic vacation since the boys were born when their charter plane crashed in Mexico. As a guardian, Grayson would never be able to fill their shoes, but he would try his hardest to do right by the twins.

Which meant finding a better place to live than the one-bedroom trailer he’d used as a home base between rodeo competitions and seasonal ranch jobs. He also needed to find a stable income—and someone to help watch the boys while he was earning said income. Aunt Vi to the rescue. Again.

As he crossed the cattle guard that was a holdover from years past, when his late grandfather kept a few cows on the small farm, déjà vu gripped him. He remembered pulling in to this same yard with Aunt Vi after his father’s funeral, her assurances that he’d get used to his new home. She was younger than I am now. There were only nine years between him and his mother’s younger sister. Violet Duncan must have been terrified at the prospect of taking in an angry teenager, but she’d never shown it. Until he’d met Blaine at a rodeo outside of Waco, Vi had been the only person in his life he’d ever been able to count on.

And how did I thank her?

He tamped down the rush of guilt. He had other things to worry about now besides not coming home for holidays or a truckload of teenage misdeeds he hoped she’d never learned about.

There was a carport to the side of the white one-story house, but the space next to Vi’s car was taken up by a large doghouse. So Grayson parked on the grass. He barely had the key out of the ignition before porch lights came on and the front door swung open. Violet hurried out of the house with a mismatched pack at her heels—three dogs of varying size and color. When he’d lived here, it had been cats—a calico named Xena and a deaf white cat named Baby Blue. Aunt Vi took in strays of all species. When she’d come to cheer him on at a rodeo championship a few years ago, she’d told him about a seventeen-year-old girl who’d stayed for a month while her parents screamed through the worst of their divorce.

Grayson couldn’t predict what the boys would think of Cupid’s Bow or the kindergarten class they’d be attending once he got them enrolled, but they were sure to love the big-hearted redhead who baked some of the best desserts in the state.

He swung open his truck door and hopped down to hug her. “Sorry it’s so late.” He’d decided that the drive would be easier after dinner, when the boys were likely to fall asleep instead of getting bored, fretting about the relocation or bickering with each other. “You didn’t have to wait up for us.”

“Pffft. I’m a night owl anyway. You know that.” She kept her voice low as she glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping twins in the cab.

He chuckled. “If the three barking dogs aren’t waking them up, I don’t think you have to whisper.”

Ignoring his teasing, she reached for the truck door. “I’ll get the little guy on this side, if you want to go around to the other.”

“I can carry both of them.” Honestly, he’d lifted saddles that were heavier than the twins put together.

She balled her fists on her hips. “I’m not even forty, Gray. Hardly frail.”

“No, ma’am. I just meant, they’re so scrawny.” Some of that was inherited body type—Blaine was tough but wiry, Miranda was slim—but Grayson worried. “I think Sam’s losing weight. I can barely get him to eat.”

The light spilling from the truck was enough for him to see the sympathy in Vi’s expression. “Just give him time. And maybe some of my peach cream-cheese pie. It was your favorite, remember?”

“I remember.” In the months before his father’s fatal car accident, Violet had frequently dropped by the house with baked goods. As an adolescent with a bottomless appetite, Grayson had thought she was just being nice. Looking back, he suspected the visits were her way of checking up on him—and on Bryant Cox’s drinking.

In a way, Grayson’s father had abandoned him just as his mother had years earlier. Except, Rachel Cox had left in one fell swoop, disappearing entirely from Grayson’s life and never looking back. Bryant had deserted him drop by drop, glass by glass. Lord, let me do better by these boys than my parents did by me.

Luckily, it wasn’t a very high bar to clear.

Once the twins were unbuckled, he and Vi each took one, falling in step as they approached the house.

“The four of us should go to the grocery store tomorrow afternoon,” she proposed. “Let the boys show us their favorite foods, and I can plan some cooking projects. Kids are more likely to eat something they feel invested in.”

“Sounds good.” Even better, it sounded simple. The last few weeks had been so overwhelming. Deciding which belongings to bring with the boys and which to leave in storage. Gathering all the records needed to transfer them to Cupid’s Bow Elementary. Creating a to-do list of new parenting tasks. He needed to memorize their allergies, find a pediatrician, consider whether they would benefit from grief therapy. In comparison, picking up dinner ingredients at the supermarket was so easy, he felt light-headed with relief.

Vi had left the front door standing open when she came out to greet him. The smallest of her canine pack dashed past Grayson on the porch stairs, nearly tripping him. As he steadied himself, Vi made an apologetic noise behind him.

“Sorry, should have warned you. I give the dogs treats when we’re all in for the night, and Shep gets a little greedy for hers.”

“No harm done. I’ve got to start doing better about watching where I walk anyway. I stepped barefoot on one of the boys’ Legos last week and thought I was going to cry. Those suckers hurt.”

Inside the house, she told him, “I’m putting the boys in your old room and you can sleep on the twin bed in my office. Is that okay for tonight? We can figure out different arrangements if—”

“Vi, you’re doing us the favor,” he reminded her. “You could put me in the doghouse and I wouldn’t complain.” Considering a few of the cheaper motels during his early days on the rodeo circuit, the doghouse would not be the worst accommodations he’d ever experienced.

The bed in Grayson’s former room was a queen-size, with plenty of space for two little boys to share it without bumping into each other or accidentally pushing each other off the mattress. But the second Sam and Tyler were tucked under the sheets, they rolled toward each other, as if seeking comfort.

Gray reached for the lamp on the nightstand. “I’ll get some night-lights, but can we leave this on for now? Tyler’s a tough little dude during the day, but he hates the dark. The last thing I’d want is for him to wake up scared in an unfamiliar place.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should have timed the drive differently, so that we arrived during the day and they’d have a few hours to acclimate.”

“Don’t second-guess yourself. If they’d spent the afternoon in the new place, they might have been too anxious or excited to fall asleep. You’ll be right next door if they need you tonight. In the meantime, they look like they’re getting much-needed rest. What about you? When was the last time you got eight hours?”

His laugh was hollow. Over the past decade, he’d trained himself to sleep anywhere, from noisy hotels with thin walls to the ground on occasional cattle drives. But the last decent night’s sleep he’d had was before the phone call about Blaine and Miranda.

“I keep a bottle of emergency whiskey over the fridge,” she said. “Think a slug of that would help you sleep?”

“I don’t touch alcohol.”

“Understandable. Hot tea, then? I’m going to have some lemon balm. Valerian is relaxing, too.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Thanks, but I’m not really a hot-tea kind of guy. All I need is a glass of water and...maybe a cookie?”

“I baked a fresh batch of oatmeal cranberry last night.”

They made their way to the kitchen, where the smallest dog—a mixed breed with the coloring of an Australian shepherd but the implausibly short legs of a dachshund or corgi—was impatiently turning circles by the counter, whimpering for her nightly treat.

“That’s Shep,” Vi said. “The one-eyed beauty behind you is Tiff and the golden doodle who grew a lot bigger than his former owner’s expectations is Buster.”

“You and your strays.” Thank God she was so willing to open her doors to anything that needed refuge. I hope the boys like animals. “You must have the biggest heart in Texas.”

She looked away, her expression troubled. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve had my share of selfish moments, made my share of mistakes. In fact...”

He reached for the Holstein-patterned cookie jar, so delighted to be back in this kitchen that it took him a moment to realize she trailed off. He might hate the surrounding town—the place where everyone knew his mom hadn’t wanted him, where classmates bullied him until his freshman growth spurt, where his dad’s drinking was public knowledge—but all of that mattered a little less at Violet’s kitchen table. “You were saying?” he asked as he pulled out three cookies.

“Never mind. You’ve already had a long day. Plenty of time for us to talk later.” She stuck her head in the pantry and emerged with a box of tea bags. “It’s so weird. Sometimes when I look in your direction, I still expect to see a dark-haired kid with two front teeth missing, not a six-foot cowboy.”

“Whereas you never age,” he said fondly. “If hot tea is your secret, maybe I should rethink turning it down.”

“Pffft. The laugh lines are increasing, the red in the hair is fading and working at home has destroyed any sense of fashion I may have once possessed.” She held her arms wide, showing off the ancient University of Texas shirt she wore with purple plaid pajama shorts.

“You’re gorgeous. You look like that actress...” He snapped his fingers. “Jessica Chastain.”

“Uh-huh. Spoken like a guy sucking up to get baked goods.”

Grinning, he bit a cookie in half. “Mmm. It’s been too long since I had these.”

“Maybe you should have visited more.”

Shame flooded him. He’d sent her tickets to watch him in the rodeo and had even convinced her to spend a sandy Christmas at a beach resort with him, but he knew his unwillingness to come to Cupid’s Bow had stung her. She’d deserved better. At eighteen, he’d been so hell-bent on leaving that he’d gone the day after his last high-school exam, depriving her of even watching him walk across the stage a week later to get his diploma. “Vi, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. I was teasing, and I shouldn’t have. You have a lot on your plate right now and don’t need me guilt-tripping you. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry. You must feel taken for granted, with me staying away until I needed a huge favor.”

“The favor was my idea,” she reminded him. “And I’m happy to help. That’s what families do.”

Theoretically. His mother had apparently missed that memo. At least I have an aunt who loves me. Blaine, who’d grown up in the foster-care system, had been less lucky.

“I am beyond grateful. And I promise, I won’t take advantage of the situation, leaving all the parenting to you. These boys are my responsibility. I won’t be a slacker guardian, but day cares are expensive, and it could be up to a month before the life-insurance money comes.” More than a babysitter, though, what he really needed was a second opinion. Last summer, Blaine had accepted a promotion that moved his family to Oklahoma so it had been nearly a year since the boys had seen Grayson. He must seem like a stranger to them, and he had no idea what he was doing.

Self-doubt scraped him raw. “Every decision I make feels like a trap. Honest to God, Vi, I’ve had broken ribs that hurt less than the worry I’ll somehow make this worse for them.”

“I felt the same way. I think everyone questions their ability to raise kids—biological parents, adoptive parents, experienced parents who already know the ropes. But you can do this. Imagine it like bronc riding. It won’t be easy, but you hold on and hope for the best.”

And pray you survive.

Chapter Two

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

Hadley Lanier glanced up from the computer, where she’d been entering a request for a book transfer from one of the county’s sister libraries. “Hey, Becca.” She grinned at the strawberry blonde. “Or should I say Madame Mayor?” Even with all the months that had passed since her friend had been sworn in, Hadley was still thrilled. Becca was terrific for Cupid’s Bow, a natural leader. And, on a more selfish note, Hadley had helped with the campaign, so she considered herself a tiny part of the victory. “What quiet ones are you talking about?”

“You.” Becca set a stack of books on the library counter, the top one a thriller with blood-red letters across the cover. “Of the nine women in our book club, you’re the Quiet One, but—”

“I am?” Hadley was shy as a kid but hadn’t thought of herself that way in years. Straight A’s in school had bolstered her confidence, but the real breakthrough had been on the softball field, with a crowd cheering her on from the bleachers. A pang of nostalgia went through her, and she absently rubbed her shoulder.

Becca frowned. “Well, yeah. But maybe that’s just in comparison to the rest of us because we’re such loudmouths. You know how Sierra is, and I’ve been bossy since birth. So you come across as the sweet, quiet one. But I just finished the book you picked for tomorrow, and, quiet or not, you have a dark side.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“It was well-written—very well-written—but a little disturbing. I may have to check beneath the bed before I can sleep tonight.”

“I would have thought a big strong cowboy like Sawyer in the house makes you feel extra safe,” Hadley teased.

Becca’s mouth curved in a soft smile at the mention of her fiancé. “There are definitely perks to having him around. But when book club rotates back to you to pick our selection, maybe something without a serial killer next time?”

“Deal.” Hadley liked to alternate between her two favorite genres, anyway—creepy suspense novels that made her heart race and romances that made her heart race for different reasons. Bookworm cardio.

They chatted for a few more minutes about what snacks they were each bringing to book club tomorrow and about their friend Sierra, who was getting married in June. Both Becca and Hadley were in the bridal party. Then Becca’s little boy, Marc, approached the counter with his selections from the children’s library.

After Hadley checked out their books and waved goodbye, she glanced at the clock. Closing time. On Sunday, the Cupid’s Bow Public Library was only open from one to five. This was her shortest workday of the week, and it had gone by fast. There’d been a steady flow of students needing resources for projects due after spring break and citizens wanting to use the free internet. She gently reminded the two people still on computers that it was time to go, then went through her end-of-the-day ritual of shutting everything down and making sure the restrooms were empty.

She grabbed her purse and headed for the double glass doors at the library’s main entrance, faltering at the flock of large black crows that dotted the lawn. They were all facing the library, as if they’d been waiting for her.

This is why you shouldn’t read scary books, dummy. They only spur your overactive imagination.

Real life frequently made her think of some story she’d read. When she’d been eight and walked out of a store to encounter two ladies dressed in antique gowns and bustles, she’d believed for a full second that she’d time-traveled. But, no, the women had been handing out flyers for a historic reenactment. Well, you’re not eight, anymore, she reminded herself as she rubbed away the goose bumps on her arm. You’re a mature, rational twenty-seven.

In her defense, the sky was overcast, uncharacteristically dark for this time of day, which could give anyone a sense of foreboding. Deciding that a friendly voice would be a good distraction, she pulled out her cell phone as she crossed the deserted lot.

Her older sister, Leanne, answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you!”

“Something good?”

Leanne snorted. “I was mentally cussing you out for talking me in to night classes. Why did I think I could go back to school after all these years? I’m not as smart as you.”

“You’re plenty smart! You were just...easily distracted in high school.”

“Boy-crazy, you mean.”

Not everyone would catch the edge of regret in her offhand tone, but Hadley knew her sister well, knew there were decisions she wished she could take back. “I only pushed you to go back because I know you can do it.”

“I hope you’re right. Studying for this bio exam is kicking my butt.”

“Why don’t you come over for dinner in about an hour?” Climbing into her car, Hadley reached for the seat belt with her free hand. “I’m leaving work now. I’ll stop at the store, grab something easy to cook and help you study.”

“That sounds great—as long as we can eat something besides barbecue.” Five nights a week, Leanne waitressed at the most popular barbecue place in the county. The Smoky Pig regularly graced tourism lists of top Texas barbecue restaurants, and it stayed busy.

“Hmm...now that you mention it,” Hadley joked, “barbecue sounds pretty tasty.”

“I’m hanging up on you, brat.”

“See you in an hour.”

It only took Hadley ten minutes to reach the grocery store, but by the time she parked, the heavy clouds were accompanied by a brisk wind and rumbles of thunder. No lightning yet, but there was an almost tangible electric charge to the air. It rushed over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

She doubled her pace, hoping to get in and out of the supermarket before the storm broke. Grabbing a cart, she formulated a mental shopping list. Pasta with shrimp was quick and simple, and she could round out the meal with a salad. As she made her way toward the seafood counter at the back of the store, a crash reverberated. Not thunder this time, but something closer and more difficult to identify. Had it come from the next aisle?

She heard the scolding murmur of a man’s deep voice, followed by a high-pitched wail. Then a little boy yelled, “You made my brother cry!”

“Sam, I didn’t—Tyler, don’t...” The man’s voice was slightly panicky as he tried to shush the unhappy children. “Boys, please!”

His ragged tone made Hadley want to help. Besides, she didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and she was unabashedly curious. Her mother used to say it was a toss-up as to what would get Hadley into more trouble—her overactive imagination or her need to investigate situations that were none of her business. Momentarily abandoning her cart, she peeked around the corner at the cereal aisle.

Boxes were everywhere. Among the cardboard wreckage, one boy sobbed facedown on the floor while another sat a few feet away, making similar noises. Yet his eyes were suspiciously dry, as if he wasn’t so much crying as expressing solidarity. It took her a second to realize the boys were identical. Meanwhile, a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man was trying to placate them while simultaneously righting the freestanding display that had been toppled.

She cleared her throat softly. “Need a hand?”

The man whipped his head toward her, almost guiltily, and she got her first clear look at him. Hair so dark it was almost black was brushed upward from his forehead. The short style emphasized the masculine beauty of his square, stubbled face; granite was softer than that jawline. “Sorry about the disturbance, ma’am.”

Flashing him a reassuring smile, she kneeled to retrieve a dented box of cornflakes. “This hardly qualifies as a disturbance. You should see the library on story day when half the preschool audience needs a nap.”

He gave her an answering grin, and dimples appeared. Oh, mercy! His muscular body had been impressive even before he turned around, but now that he was smiling and his eyes shone with—

“What the heck happened here?”

Hadley glanced past Dimples to find a bewildered Violet Duncan, holding a bag from the pharmacy while she gaped at the sobbing boys and scattered boxes. Violet was a web designer who volunteered her skills to keep the library’s online community calendar updated.

The horizontal twin lifted his tearstained face and responded, “It w-w-was a accident!”

“Grayson yelled at Sam!” the other twin accused.

Grayson...

Good Lord. Dimples was Grayson Cox? Hadley hadn’t recognized her former classmate. She knew he was Violet’s nephew, of course, but she’d been under the impression that his visits to Cupid’s Bow were as rare as unicorns. Was he in town for their high school’s ten-year reunion next Saturday? And who were these little boys? With their brown eyes, she might have guessed they were his except the kid had called him Grayson, not Dad.

“I did not yell!” Grayson defended himself. “I told him to stop running, which he didn’t, and then I pointed out the consequences of not listening.” He gestured at the mess around them.

Violet scooped up Sam and set him in the shopping cart. The action startled the boy out of his crying.

“I’m too big to ride in the cart,” he protested.

“You’re also too big to throw temper tantrums in the grocery store,” Violet said mildly. “If I let you walk, will you quiet down?”

With one last dramatic sniffle, Sam nodded.

“Good. If you and your brother will behave, you can come help me pick out something for dessert tonight.” With a sigh, she turned to Grayson. “You want to finish restoring order here and meet us in the baking aisle?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He ducked his gaze, looking as boyishly chagrined as young Sam.

When Hadley chuckled at his expression, all eyes turned to her.

Violet gave her a wan smile, acknowledging her as she shepherded the boys away. “Hey, Hadley.”

“Hadley?” Grayson echoed, turning back toward her. He blinked. “Hadley the Cannon?”

“No.” The quick denial felt like a protective gesture, warding off the once beloved nickname. “I mean, no one calls me that.” Not since she was seventeen.

“But you are Hadley Lanier?” He studied her from top to bottom, the intensity in his gaze making her shiver. Like her, Grayson had brown eyes, but his were a few shades lighter, nearly the color of her dad’s favorite bourbon, ringed in a circle of darker brown that made his eyes unforgettable. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized him sooner—or that she had yet to look away. Quit staring. Easier said than done.

Outside, she’d felt the prickle of storm-charged electricity against her skin, but that was nothing compared to the sizzle that went through her now. “I, uh... What was the question? Oh!” Her cheeks burned. “Yes. I’m Hadley.”

His hand clenched around a cereal box as he scowled at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Chapter Three

Grayson hadn’t meant to blurt out the question so rudely. But the idea of Hadley Lanier in Cupid’s Bow was almost as ridiculous as his being here.

Her eyes narrowed, their coldness making him belatedly realize how much he’d been enjoying her earlier warm interest. “I’m grocery shopping, same as you. But without toppling displays and making small children cry.”

Less than twenty-four hours in town, and they’d already made a public scene. Yeah, he was really winning at this parenting business. “I didn’t mean what are you doing here in the store,” he said impatiently. “Why are you in Cupid’s Bow? Last I saw you, you were headed off to play college softball, with big plans to get your diploma and see the worl—”

“Plans change.”

Ain’t that the truth. He felt a spark of kinship with her, probably his first ever. During their school years, he’d spent a lot of time annoyed with her. Even before high school and her blind devotion to Reggie George, Grayson had hated the excited class reports she gave about other countries. Her vivid social-studies presentations about all the places she planned to see made him realize how big the world was, how many places his mom could be. While he was cooped up in a classroom, listening to some stupid report from a know-it-all girl, was his mother swimming in an ocean? Surveying Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower? Whether she’d been in Paris, France, or Paris, Texas, the result was the same—his own mom hadn’t loved him and all his classmates knew it.

“Hello, Hadley, dear.” At the other end of the aisle, a stooped elderly woman nudged her cart forward and stopped in front of the hot cereal. She eyed Grayson with open curiosity. “Would one of you be so kind as to reach the grits for me?”

“I’d be happy to, Miss Alma.” Hadley smiled, but the expression seemed forced—especially when she cut her eyes toward Grayson. “We were done here anyway.”

No, they weren’t. Curiosity about her life choices aside, he needed a chance to apologize for his rude bluntness. You’re a role model now, remember? He could just imagine Aunt Vi’s response if she heard how he’d spoken to Hadley. Probably something like “You want people to think I didn’t raise you with any manners?”

Stalling, he fussed with the cereal display, making sure the boxes were perfectly lined up while he waited until he could talk to Hadley alone again. He listened with half an ear to Alma’s chatter. “How’s your mama, dear?” and “Looks like some storm blowing in” and “Who’s the hottie?”

“Miss Alma!” Hadley sounded mortified, and Grayson registered he was the “hottie” in question.

Grinning inwardly, he darted a glance toward his former classmate. With her hair pulled back in a long, loose ponytail, he had a clear view of her face turning pink. He remembered that about her from high school, that she’d been prone to blushing. Her jackass boyfriend would pass her notes, their contents guessable by the color of Hadley’s cheeks. Oh, hell, what if the jackass boyfriend was why Hadley had settled in Cupid’s Bow? He could be the jackass husband by now.

When Hadley caught him looking at her, she planted her hands on her hips. “I suppose you’re referring to Grayson Cox, Violet’s nephew?” Hadley asked Alma. “I don’t see anything ‘hot’ about him.”

Alma snorted. “Then you should make an appointment with Dr. Shaffer to get your vision check—Oh! Violet’s nephew, you say?” She lowered her voice to a whisper.

Grayson’s stomach churned. He hated knowing he was the topic of discussion. Gossip had followed him throughout childhood—people talking about his mom’s disappearance, his father’s drinking, his aunt taking him in when she was so young. There were townsfolk who thought Violet and Jim McKay had been on the verge of getting engaged before Grayson disrupted her life; he’d always been too afraid to ask her if he was the reason she and Jim had ended things.

There was a break in the whispering, and Hadley cast him a quick look over her shoulder. Instead of her earlier irritation, now there was pity in her eyes. Screw it. He didn’t need to apologize that badly. Time to get out of here. He strode away from the reorganized cereal display, but Hadley caught up with him, nearly matching his stride. She was a tall woman. Though she’d been known on the softball field for her pitching, she could haul ass around the bases when necessary.

He kept his eyes straight ahead. “I take it you got an earful?” How much did Cupid’s Bow citizens already know about his moving back?

“Apparently, Alma heard from Dagmar, the florist, who overheard Violet tell the sheriff’s wife that you and your godsons... Grayson, I’m sorry about your friends.”

His breath caught, a painful knot in his lungs. He couldn’t talk about them. Logically, he knew Blaine and Miranda were never coming back—he’d had to remind the boys of that on several heart-wrenching occasions—but he still hated discussing it. As if talking about their death made them more dead somehow. He gurgled an inarticulate response to her condolences.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. Which is saying something,” she added, wry humor edging into her sympathy. “Because I have a very vivid imagination.”

He was surprised she’d made a joke about herself instead of dwelling on his situation. Some of the pressure in his chest eased, and he offered her a tentative smile.

“That’s why I didn’t recognize you,” she murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“When I first saw you in the cereal aisle, I didn’t know it was you.”

Ditto. Grayson hadn’t reconciled the curvy stranger with the girl he’d known. In his memory, she was either in a softball uniform or snuggled up to Reggie George.

“You smiled when I offered to help,” she explained, “and those dimples are an effective disguise. The Grayson Cox I went to school with never smiled at me.”

“Don’t take it personally.” He hadn’t done much smiling at anyone during his adolescent years.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “I better run. I have company coming for dinner, and I’m behind schedule.”

“Hot date?” he asked before he could stop himself. He didn’t see a wedding band or engagement ring, but she could still be dating Reggie. Then again, Hadley was smart. Despite her long-ago loyalty to her boyfriend, surely she’d figured out sometime during the last decade what an entitled bully he was.

“My sister, actually. And if I don’t get my butt in gear, she’ll reach my house before I do.” She turned back to her abandoned cart.

“Hadley? I’m sorry I was so abrupt earlier. The boys and I just got here last night, and I’m...adjusting. To, um, everything.” Cupid’s Bow always brought out the worst in him.

“Maybe you can make it up to me with a cup of coffee sometime,” she said lightly. “It would be nice to catch up with an old friend.”

“We were never friends.” How could they have been, when he’d spent so much time holding everyone at arm’s length? Never mind that she’d been dating his nemesis.

“No, I guess we weren’t.” Her dark eyes flashed with hurt.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to insult her. “But like you said earlier...things change, right?”

She nodded, not looking entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”

* * *

“OW, DAMMIT!” HADLEY yanked her hand back from the pot. As she’d dropped pasta into the boiling water, her thumb had grazed the metal.

Leanne paused in the act of uncorking the wine. “You need me to finish up cooking? You’ve been distracted since I got here. You’re lucky you didn’t catch your sleeve on fire lighting the burner.”

“I’ve got it under control now.” Possibly. “Besides, you shouldn’t have to help cook. You’re the guest.”

“Big sisters don’t count as guests. What’s on your mind, anyway? Thinking about one of your stories?”

“No.” Until Hadley had sold a couple of short stories to a mystery magazine last year, it had been a well-kept secret that the town librarian also dreamed of being an author. She was still hesitant about discussing it, but her sister had been super supportive. Leanne was the one who’d recently encouraged her to apply for a unique writer-in-residence opportunity. “I was thinking about new friends. Or old friends, I guess. If it was an old friend who wasn’t actually your friend.”

“Uh...” Leanne held up the chardonnay. “Did you finish one of these without me before I got here?”

“Ha—I barely had time to carry in the groceries, much less down a bottle of wine. I had a strange encounter at the supermarket.” She lowered her voice the way she used to when making up ghost stories to thrill her sister when they were kids. “On this stormy night, I ran in to a tall, dark man from my past.”

“For real? Last time I went to the grocery store, the most noteworthy thing that happened was I had to wait ten minutes for a price check.”

“Grayson Cox is back in town.” At Leanne’s blank look, she added, “He’s my age and was kind of a loner. You might not remember him.”

During Hadley’s junior year in high school, her older sister had run off with a man nearly a decade older. She’d declared him the love of her life, but it only lasted four months. By then, she’d had a waitressing job in Albuquerque and soon landed in an even worse relationship. Although she sounded miserable whenever Hadley talked to her on the phone, she’d been too proud to come home. It wasn’t until after their mother’s stroke that Leanne returned.

“Grayson is Violet Duncan’s nephew,” Hadley elaborated. “Bryant Cox’s son?”

“Oh. His dad was the one who crashed into that big oak tree on Spiegel.”

Fatal car accidents were rare in Cupid’s Bow; that one had made a lasting impression on everyone. As Hadley recalled, Grayson hated being defined by his dad’s death. She’d witnessed him get into more than one fight in the high-school cafeteria.

“So you and Grayson were friends?”

“Um, no. Not in the strictest sense. We didn’t hang out with the same crowd.” Hadley had always been with her softball teammates and their collective boyfriends, and Grayson had been...apart, scowling from the outskirts. Once, she’d tried to apologize to him for her boyfriend’s obnoxious idea of a joke, but Grayson had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. Or with any of them. “He could be abrasive, guarded. But people change, right?”

Leanne, reconciled with her once estranged family and working toward a college degree, should understand that better than anyone. “Is that why he’s back in Cupid’s Bow? Because he’s a changed man?”

“Personal emergency brought him back.” She took the glass of wine her sister offered. It seemed wrong to gossip about Grayson’s circumstances, especially given how uncomfortable he’d looked in the store, but with the way information spread, Leanne would hear all about him in the Smoky Pig anyway. “I don’t know the specifics, but he’s here for his aunt’s help. He’s raising two little boys after a friend died.”

“That’s terrible.” Leanne sipped her wine in silence. As Hadley was plating their food, she asked, “So was your encounter with him actually out of the usual, or were you just being dramatic?”

“I, uh...” Her reaction to him definitely hadn’t been typical. When he’d flashed those dimples at her, heat had coursed through her. She’d been so captivated by his smile that for a second, she’d forgotten about the surrounding mess or the noise of crying children. And when he’d rejected her offer of coffee, her disappointment had been irrationally powerful, too. She wanted to see him again. She wanted—

“You’re blushing! Let me guess, former grump Grayson Cox grew up to be good-looking.”

Extremely good-looking. “Are you implying I’m shallow?”

“I’m saying you already know most of the men in a fifty-mile radius, and none of them has put that look on your face lately. You should ask him to be your date for the reunion.”

“Oh, good grief. I just told you, he’s dealing with a lot right now. He has real priorities, and I doubt dancing in the Cupid’s Bow High gymnasium with some girl he barely remembers makes the list.” She carried the plates to the table. “Now, sit down and eat. No one should have to study on an empty stomach.”

After dinner, they spent an hour and a half on biology. “You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for,” Hadley said as Leanne was packing up her notes. “You need to have more faith in yourself.”

“Uh-huh. And what were your exact words when I suggested we should go suitcase shopping because you’ll need luggage after you win that writing residency in Colorado?”

Hadley’s face heated. Every time she thought about the application she’d sent in, she felt equal parts excited and nauseated. “I love that you believe in me, but I’m a longshot at best. Some of the applicants have probably published actual books, and I... Okay, I see your point. I guess we could both work on our confidence.”

Her sister nodded. “And you know what’s a good exercise for boosting self-confidence? When you ask a hot guy to your high-school reunion and he says yes.”

“Leanne! We covered this already. Now, if we’re done with the academics, I have some writing to do tonight.”

“You’re just saying that to get rid of me.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true. Getting rid of you is a bonus.”

“All right, I’m leaving. But when you become a rich and famous novelist, you have to take us on a fabulous spa weekend.”

“Deal.”

After locking the front door behind her sister and changing into a pair of yoga pants and her favorite Snoopy T-shirt, Hadley curled up on the couch with her laptop. As much as she loved her job at the library, this was her favorite time of day—when she got to play with words like they were clay, molding her own world and shaping fascinating characters.

Except, tonight, the characters weren’t cooperating.

The lanky inspector from Scotland Yard suddenly bore a striking resemblance to a rugged cowboy, and none of his dialogue came out right. After typing and deleting half a dozen attempts at the same sentence, she relented. For the moment, perhaps her time would be better spent on story research than the actual writing. She opened the search engine, preparing to fact-check the form of poison her villain used. But her fingers didn’t cooperate any better than her characters had. Instead of typing arsenic trioxide, she inexplicably typed Grayson Cox.

I am going to do story research. Really. Just as soon as she finished skimming a few articles about a certain rodeo champ.

* * *

GRAYSON WIPED A damp hand across his already damp jeans, noting that there seemed to be more water on him than on either of the two boys in the tub. But, silver lining, Sam and Tyler were both clean; Grayson had helped them wash their hair without anyone yelping about shampoo in his eyes and everyone seemed recovered from the earlier incident at the grocery store. He still wasn’t sure how they’d gone so quickly from a simple “Boys, no running” to total meltdown.

Yet, without the resulting meltdown, Hadley never would have poked her head around the corner to help.

Despite past irritations with her and the graceless way he’d handled their conversation, he didn’t regret seeing her. For one thing, she was a lot of fun to look at, with her dark shining eyes and full lips. He recalled her suggestion that they meet for coffee sometime. If he was successful in finding a job, who knew how long he and the boys would be in Cupid’s Bow? It would be nice to have a friend. Then again, a curvy brunette friend who’d stared at him with alternating interest and disappointment might be a complication he didn’t have room for right now.

He turned his attention back to the twins, who were happily splashing around like a couple of river otters. “All right, you two, if we don’t get you out, you’ll wrinkle into prunes.” He held up a towel. “Who’s first?”

They’d progressed to the pajama stage—Grayson helped Tyler correct course before he inadvertently stuck his head through the sleeve a third time—when Vi rapped her knuckles against the partially open door.

“Need any help?” she asked.

“I think we’re good now.” Except for the state of her bathroom. “But if you want to read them their story, I can mop up—”

“You won’t be there for story?” Sam’s eyes grew huge.

Grayson rocked back on his heels, meeting the boy’s gaze. “I was just going to let Violet read tonight so I can clean up the mess we made.”

The boy thrust his bottom lip out. “You hafta stay with us! ’til we fall asleep.”

Tyler nodded solemnly.

Grayson ran a hand over his jaw. His guess was that if you let kids dictate your actions, you ended up with spoiled monsters. But the twins were coping with extenuating circumstances. He stood. “Tell you what, I’ll straighten up in here while you two take this stuff to the laundry room. Violet can show you where, if you forgot.” He balled up their dirty clothes and a towel from the floor. “I’ll meet you in your room in time for story, okay?”

This met with everyone’s approval, but even forty minutes later, as Sam yawned and his eyes fluttered closed, a note of apprehension lingered in his voice. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Grayson said. “I’ll be here every day.” The enormity of his responsibility hit him anew. He was looking at years, decades, of trying to figure out what was right for these kids.

“And Violet will be here, too? And Tiff and Buster and Shep?”

Buster lifted his head from where he was lying at the foot of the bed, thumping his tail in reassurance. The boys had befriended the dogs immediately.

He squeezed Sam close. “We’ll all be here, buddy.” Grayson did have one appointment tomorrow—for a job interview Vi had arranged—but he’d remind the boys about that in the morning. For now, he just wanted Sam to feel secure. He understood the question the boy was really asking: are we going to get left again by the people we love? I miss them, too, buddy.

Once Sam finally yielded to sleep and both boys were softly snoring, Grayson padded down the hallway to the kitchen. Where the cookie jar lived.

He drew up short at the sight of his aunt working at the kitchen table. Her laptop and a mug of tea sat in front of her. Client folders were scattered across the surface. Because she gave her office to me. “I’ve displaced you.”

She glanced up with an absent frown “What are you talking about?”

“The boys and I will find a house when I have the money for it,” he vowed. “We won’t inconvenience you forever.”

“I get to work in my jammies with a dog lying across my feet. My life couldn’t be any more convenient. Boys asleep?”

He nodded. “When I was trying to decide which of their belongings were critical to keep with us and which could be left in Oklahoma for now, I overlooked the importance of bedtime stories. I’ve read the same four books so often I’ve memorized them.”

“Take the boys to the library. All the bedtime stories you could want.” Her lips twitched in a small smile. “Just ask Hadley.”

He choked on a bite of cookie. “H-Hadley?” His mind got hung up on the brunette mentioned in the same sentence as bedtime, and the tips of his ears burned the way they had when Vi had caught him kissing Julia Yanic on the living room couch thirteen years ago.

“Yeah, you should ask Hadley for children’s book recommendations. She is the town librarian after all.”

Oh. Right. Hadn’t she mentioned something about story hour at the library? “Weird. Not the part about her being a librarian. She always loved books.” He had a sudden stray memory of her carrying around a large book of wonders of the world in middle school, asking him if he wanted to know how many kilometers long the Great Wall of China was. “But I can’t believe she’s stuck in Cupid’s Bow.”

Violet sighed. “I realize your childhood wasn’t idyllic, but some of us like it here.”

Some people, maybe, but not his mother. Her own son hadn’t been enough to hold Rachel Cox here. “I didn’t mean to sound so derisive. I just thought Hadley was going out of state for college, headed for bigger things.”

Vi’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember all the details, but there was something about her getting hurt and losing her softball scholarship to college.”

“Damn,” he said softly. “Does life work out for anyone?”

“Plenty of people. I can’t complain.”

Couldn’t she? She’d spent her twenties raising him and now here she was in her late thirties taking on his problems again.

She scowled, her tone firm. “Quit being so negative. Is that how you want the boys to view life? Hopeless?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Then start looking for the hope around you. And if you don’t see any, do the world—and yourself—a favor. Create some.”

Chapter Four

Grayson kept half his attention on the twins playing air hockey at the child-sized table behind him, and the other half on the apologetic blonde behind the front desk. He knew it had been a long shot to ask if they were hiring here. The community center was staffed largely by volunteers and high-school seniors, who coached little kids’ basketball. But he’d decided that since he was dropping off Vi anyway, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“We’re just not hiring right now for any of our full-time positions,” the blonde said. “If there’s a specific area of expertise you think the community will find useful, you can sign up to teach one of our six-week classes. We’ve done whittling, self-defense, introduction to Spanish... Otherwise, all I can do is take your name and number and let you know if anything opens up.” She passed him a clipboard and a pen. “Oh, and if you could list two local references, that would be useful.”

He grimaced, having gotten a similar request at his interview this morning. The construction foreman said he typically preferred three references; he was willing to bend that rule as a favor to Vi. He might also be swayed by Grayson’s roofing experience after high school and willingness to do manual labor in the Texas heat. But if the construction job didn’t work out, Grayson would need local references for his next interview. It suddenly struck him how many times he’d written Blaine Stowe’s name on forms; his best friend and honorary big brother had been everything from a character reference to an emergency contact.

After filling out his contact info, Grayson thanked the woman for her time and handed back the board. Then he collected the boys and they departed. The plan was to run to the nearby library while Violet had her meeting.

“We’ll check out some books and then, if there’s enough time before Vi’s ready to go, you two can play more air hockey. Or we can walk through the rest of the center and see what other activities they have,” he said as he started the truck. “And just wait until summer comes! Cupid’s Bow has a really huge pool. You’ll love it.” He’d promised Vi, for the boys’ sake, that he’d focus on the positive.

His aunt was certainly an inspiration for positive thinking—and for positive action. Her meeting today was with Mayor Johnston and a few other citizens to discuss starting a peer mentorship program where, instead of turning to adults, teens having a difficult time could help each other.

This morning, as they’d cleaned up the breakfast dishes, Violet had said she believed teenagers were more likely to be honest about their problems with kids their own age. Plus, she believed that some teens branded as troublemakers would be motivated to turn themselves around when given responsibility as a peer counselor. That part of the conversation had him choking on his own guilt. Should he confess to his aunt the teenage crimes he’d gotten away with or leave the past alone? She’d worked so hard to shape him into a good person. It would devastate her to learn what a mess he’d been. At the time, he’d convinced himself he was in the right. His rebellions had felt like justice.

After Grayson’s mom left, his father had blamed the town, saying Rachel had hated it here, that Cupid’s Bow hadn’t been good enough for her. Looking back, Grayson could see through his father’s excuses, his inability to accept that perhaps he’d failed somewhere as a husband. But as a child, Grayson had bought in to his dad’s finger-pointing. At least when he listened to his father’s bitter diatribes, Bryant was paying attention to him. So Grayson had been a rapt audience as his dad ranted about everything from the town ruining his marriage to the former business partners who’d screwed him over.

By the time of his father’s crash, Grayson harbored a simmering resentment toward most of the people around him, made worse by the pitying gossip about the “orphaned Cox boy.” He’d sought anonymous revenge in stereotypical misdemeanors, from graffiti and shoplifting to stealing a high-school mascot. He’d smashed the mailbox of the loan officer who’d rejected his dad’s application, a financial setback that resulted in the eventual loss of the store where Bryant met Grayson’s mom. Grayson had reasoned that if his dad still had the store, he wouldn’t have doubled down on his drinking. If Bryant Cox got that loan, he would have still been alive.

That’s not how alcoholism works. Grayson knew that now. But, as a grief-stricken high-school freshman, he’d followed his dad’s example—making excuses, lashing out, blaming others. As amazing as Violet had been, no one person could single-handedly undo the emotional damage that came from years of secondhand rage. Only with time, perspective and friends like Blaine had Grayson regained his balance.

He wasn’t proud of his teenage self, but he didn’t have to be that person anymore. I’m mature now. And well-adjusted. More or less.

To prove it, he climbed out of the truck with a friendly smile on his face, reminding the boys about using their “library voices” as they unbuckled their booster seats.

Just inside the front door of the library, a glass display case caught the twins’ attention. It was full of trains—or, at least, artistic representations of trains. There were paintings and drawings of varying quality, clay sculptures and a colorful model assembled from cardboard. Above the display was a sign announcing that next month’s theme was horses, inviting all the kids of Cupid’s Bow to participate.

He remembered the homemade Christmas cards Miranda used to send him and a framed sketch she’d done of the boys sleeping when they were just babies. “You guys like art projects?”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically. “I like to finger-paint. It’s messy. Red is my favorite color.”

“One time, Mama helped us do an art with sand,” Sam added. “It was real messy.”

“And we played with shaving cream on our art table. It’s squishy. And—”

“Let me guess,” Grayson said. “Messy?”

The boys chorused “yes” amid chuckles. He wasn’t convinced they’d inherited their mother’s artistic sensibility, but they were decidedly pro-mess. He made a mental note to get tarps before attempting any big projects at Aunt Vi’s.

They walked into the library, cool from the humming air conditioner and quiet after the sounds of Main Street. A sense of calm washed over him—until he turned and found himself eye-to-eye with Hadley Lanier.

“Grayson!” She appeared startled, clutching a stack of books against her to keep from dropping them. But then she smiled, her dark eyes as sweet as hot chocolate. “Nice to see you.”

It was a warmer welcome than he deserved, and he grinned back at her. “You, too. Can I, uh, help you with those?” Did he sound like an awkward seventh grader, offering to carry a pretty girl’s books to her locker?

“Sure. I was going to display these on top of the shelves for National Poetry Month.” Passing all but a few of the books over to him, she smiled down at the boys. “Hello, again. I’m Miss Hadley. What kinds of books do you two like to read?”

“Do you have anything with dinosaurs?” Tyler asked. Sam didn’t answer, too busy studying his surroundings.

“We have an entire shelf on dinosaurs. That’s our children’s section.” She pointed to a smaller room, walled in glass and decorated with lots of bright colors. “If you two want to go in there and start looking around, I’ll help you find some dinosaur books in just a moment. Does that sound okay?”

Pausing only long enough to give her a brief nod, Tyler scampered off. Sam hesitated, looking nervously at Grayson.

“I’m going to help Miss Hadley move some books,” Grayson said. “You can stay with me if you want. Or, if you want to go with your brother, you’ll be able to keep an eye on me through the glass. Your choice, buddy.”

The boy swallowed. “You won’t go far?”

“Promise.”

Reassured, Sam turned and followed after his twin.

Grayson felt a tug of pride. The tiny display of independence might not seem like much to someone who didn’t know Sam, but the boy had been understandably clingy in the past few weeks and this was progress.

“You’re good with him,” Hadley said. When he turned to her meet her gaze, her smile became mischievous. “Much better than I would have guessed after the cereal-aisle debacle.”

“Not one of my finer moments. But I hope I’m getting better. They deserve that. This has been so hard for them—their parents, the move. Starting school in the next week or so. I hope they have an easier time at Cupid’s Bow Elementary than—” Was he really about to whine to a beautiful woman about his childhood? Lame. “So, where did you need these books?”

She raised an eyebrow at his abrupt change of subject but didn’t call him on it. “Right over here.”

The shelves in the library weren’t all the same height. Units taller than Hadley lined the walls, but the center was dominated by shorter bookshelves topped with various objects—spotlight collections, winning science-fair projects from the local schools and potted flowers that brought a touch of spring inside.

She led him to a shelf with available space on top, and took a moment to position the books she held before turning to him for a few more.

He passed over the first few without paying much attention, but then a red book cover made him do a double take. “Erotic poems?”

Hadley’s head jerked up. “Shh. This is a library, remember.”

“Sorry. I was caught off guard.”

“By a book? In a library? Yes, what are the odds?” She laughed.

She had a great laugh, he noticed. It trilled out like music, her own personal jingle or theme song.

“These are poems from the 1930s, a part of our literary history, pieces that found beauty and sensuality to celebrate despite difficult times. It’s not like they’re internet porn.”

“So, you’ve read them?”

“I’ve read almost everything in the library,” she said matter-of-factly. “Most of these books were here long before I became head librarian.”

“Now you can read about the Great Wall of China whenever you want.”

She cocked her head, her expression puzzled. “Sure, I guess. My first choice is usually historical suspense. Or romances. And don’t you dare laugh at that,” she said preemptively, as if others had judged her preferences. “I know some people think happy endings are silly, but—”

“Not silly.” His heart twisted as he thought of how much Blaine and Miranda had meant to each other, their dream of growing old together. “Just improbable.”

There was a clattering sound in the background followed by accusatory shouts of “I didn’t do it. You did.” And “Not my fault!”

Crap. Grayson pressed a palm to his forehead. It was the cereal aisle all over again. Apparently, gravity was no friend of five-year-olds. “I’d better go clean up whatever they just destroyed. Please don’t ban us from the library,” he implored over his shoulder.

The boys met him in the doorway, their eyes wide. “It was a accident,” Sam said. “I just wanted to see the octopus.”

A large orange stuffed animal was on the ground, its eight legs in the air as if reaching for help. It was surrounded by children’s books that had no doubt been on display until Sam had reached for the octopus and knocked everything down.

“Thanks for the help,” Hadley said cheerfully. “The children’s room was next on my list. I was going to swap out the marine-life books for books about sports. Of course, I normally put books carefully back on the shelf instead of dumping them on the floor, but to be fair, your way was quicker.”

Sam and Tyler exchanged shocked glances.

“So we’re not in trouble?” Tyler asked.

“Accidents happen.” Hadley kneeled down to grab the octopus. “Just try to be careful with the books you take home. And never, ever mark in them with crayons or pens, okay?” After extracting that solemn promise, she rose. “All right...dinosaur time!”

She took each twin by the hand, and a few minutes later, each of the boys held a nonfiction picture book about dinosaurs.

“Oh, and this one,” Hadley said. “It’s about a dinosaur who has to learn to be more careful because he’s so big he knocks things over and steps on them without meaning to. Like a couple of junior T. rexes I know.”

Tyler laughed outright, then made a rawr noise at her; even Sam smiled shyly.

They all headed back to the circulation desk so Grayson could sign up for a library card, and the boys asked if they could look at the trains again while they were waiting. Since it was within his sight line, Grayson agreed. “Put your hands in your pockets, though,” he suggested. “So that you don’t accidentally leave any fingerprints on the glass.” Or shatter it somehow.

Hadley handed him his new card and the books. “They’re due in a week, but you can renew online if you want to keep them longer. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually, yes. But it’s a personal favor.”

She arched an eyebrow. “How personal are we talking?”

“Well, not like erotic-poem personal—”

“Grayson!”

“Shh.” He grinned, charmed by the pink that washed over her cheeks. “We’re in a library.”

Despite her glare, she was obviously fighting a smile.

“I’ve started interviewing for jobs,” he said, “and I’ve already been asked for local references. I don’t suppose...” It was difficult to voice the request, hypocritical to ask her to vouch for him considering how short-tempered he’d been with her in the past. Why had he been such a jerk? It hadn’t been Hadley’s fault that reports of faraway places set his teeth on edge. And it hadn’t been her fault that her steady boyfriend was an SOB—although Grayson had been disappointed someone with her smarts couldn’t see through the guy.

Maybe Grayson had been jealous of her standing in the community. Since the day his mom left him behind, he hadn’t felt as if he belonged in Cupid’s Bow, and with each passing year, he became more of an outsider. Hadley Lanier had been beloved by teachers and friends and teammates; she was probably adored as town librarian. People like her made it look so easy to fit in, but he knew what it was like to feel other people’s whispers like fire ants on his skin.

“Grayson? You okay?”

How long had he been standing here, scowling silently? “I don’t know what I am.” Dammit, he was supposed to be showing her his good qualities so she could rave about him to potential employers. He shook his head. “Being back here has fried my brain. I swear Cupid’s Bow brings out the worst in me.”

“That’s a shame, since it sounds like you’ll be here awhile.” She pursed her lips. “Were you about to ask for my phone number?”

“What? No, I—”

“To put down as a reference?”

“Oh. Yes. That is, if you’re willing.”

She held out her hand. “Got a phone on you?” When he passed it over to her, she typed in her contact information. “There. Now you have my number for job references and picture-book recommendations. Or to, um, invite me to lunch sometime. Maybe all you need to get along with Cupid’s Bow better is the right tour guide.”

Was she kidding? “I grew up here—not much you could show me I haven’t already seen.”

“Do you ever read mystery novels?”

“One or two.”

“They’re all pretty similar. Someone gets killed, someone figures out who dunit. It’s not like the format is a surprise. But they’re all different, too, because they’re told from different points of view. The reader gets to see the plot unfold through a new character’s eyes. Maybe you just need to see Cupid’s Bow from another perspective.”

He wasn’t convinced, but, for now, Cupid’s Bow was the boys’ home. He owed it to them to try. “What about tomorrow? Are you free for lunch then?” The question was surprisingly liberating. So much of his time since becoming the boys’ guardian had been spent planning, worrying, regrouping. It was a relief to do something as simple as ask an attractive woman to share a meal with him. “Or do you work all day?”

She stared for a second, as if expecting him to retract the invitation. “I, ah... Bunny Neill, the semiretired librarian who ran the place before me, makes sure I get lunch hours and every other Wednesday off. I’d love to—”

“Is it time to go yet?” Sam loudly demanded from the front entrance.

Grayson winced. “I’ll talk to him again about his library voice, I promise.”

“I’ll let it slide,” Hadley said with a grin. “But just this once.”

* * *

THE WALK FROM the truck to the community center got a lot longer when the boys got distracted watching roly-poly bugs on the sidewalk. Grayson didn’t mind. It was a sunny spring day, and Vi hadn’t texted yet that she was ready for her ride home, so he slowed his walk to a relaxed amble, letting the boys take their time.

When an older woman carrying a yoga mat exited the building, he scooted the boys to the side to let her pass. The woman nodded to Grayson with a smile, but then stopped short.

“Grayson Cox?”

“Um, yes, ma’am.” He tried to place her but it took him a moment to match the friendly woman in relaxed athletic wear with the history teacher who’d worn buttoned-up blouses and disapproving scowls. “Ms. Templeton?”

“That is you.” Her smile spread. “What a delight to have you back in town!”

It was? She must recall his eighth-grade history class differently than he did.

“Will you be staying long?”

“I think so.” He nodded toward Sam and Tyler. “I have an appointment to sign them up for school tomorrow.”

“Wonderful. If they’re half as bright as you are, they’ll—”

His bark of laughter was involuntary. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you sure you don’t have me confused with another student? You gave me a lot of Cs.” And more than a few lectures.

She glanced down her nose at him in a gesture he recognized. “Why do you think I was so hard on you? Because I knew perfectly well how bright you are and wasn’t about to reward you for coasting by on minimum effort. But you certainly grew out of that! My nephew and I were at the rodeo last summer and happened to see you ride. I can’t begin to imagine the bone-jarring effort that takes.”

“Th-thank you.” If anyone had asked him when he was thirteen, he would have sworn Ms. Templeton hated him. His phone began ringing in his pocket, signaling that Vi was finished.

“I’ll let you get that,” Ms. Templeton said. She gave him one last smile. “Welcome back home.”

He stared after her, almost too bemused to answer Vi’s call. “Hey,” he said once he’d regathered his wits. “All done?”

“Yes.” Vi’s voice was tight. She didn’t sound as if the meeting had gone well.

“Okay, the boys and I are right outside the front doors.”

She hung up and a moment later, he saw her striding through the lobby. Before she reached the exit, however, two men in tank tops and shorts crossed her path. Grayson squinted, realizing that the one carrying a basketball was Jim McKay, Violet’s ex-boyfriend. Were they on friendly terms? For Vi’s sake, he hoped so. In a town this size, you were bound to run in to an ex from time to time.

With the men standing in front of her, he couldn’t see Vi’s expression, but when she came through the door a few minutes later, her movements were stiff and jerky, her smile of greeting brittle.

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