CHAPTER ONE

FINN

ONE WEEK LATER

Hands propped on the steering wheel of my jeep, I wait for the light to change as my eyes catch on the building to the left of the intersection. The Smithfield Library. Abigail's probably in there right now, and an irresistible urge to see her causes me to hit the blinker to turn into the concrete lot and park.

Large windows covered in snowflakes and an orange fire blazing with the words "Warm up with a book" written across the glass span the front of the library. The clock on the dash reads five pm ? an hour to closing. But I won't be here that long. Just a quick peek, then I'll go.

The knowledge of Michael and Abigail's break-up has weighed on my mind all week. She's free, and my dumbass thinks that means something. Like you have a chance. If I were smart, I'd shift back into drive and get the hell out of here instead of braving the bitter cold to enter the quiet library.

Two rows of computers separate the main portion of the library, and a couple of people sit spread out with blue light from the screens reflecting on their faces. Glancing towards the children's section on the right, I head in the opposite direction, hoping to find Abigail among the sea of bookshelves.

A layer of comfort falls on my shoulders at the scent of old books and the calm atmosphere. I don't spend a lot of time here, preferring to read on my phone when I have time, and the blunder of judgment kicks me in the gut. Abigail and I could've met months ago before she even knew Michael. Which means she could've rejected you months ago, too, idiot.

Sighing at the negative possibility, my pace slows as I nonchalantly stare down each aisle, trying to look like I belong and not desperately searching for the woman of my fantasies. Near the last row, I finally spot my quarry. Abigail pushes a cart full of books, her gaze studying the names and titles before placing them in their correct place on the shelf. Black boots cover her calves as dark jeans hug those generous hips and ass.

Damn, I could eat her up.

Like a stalker, I dip into the row behind her to follow her efficient movements ? check, shelve, check, shelve. Thick, honey blonde waves swing just below her shoulders, shifting with each turn of her head. I'd like to catch those loose strands and tug her head back for a demanding kiss, but that's liable to get me thrown out of here and slapped with a restraining order.

Maybe later… when she's mine. If that ever happens.

My neck bends to peer between two shelves as we reach the end of the row, the awkward height emphasizing how ridiculous I must look. A grown man acting like a schoolboy spying on his crush. Huffing in scorn at the comparison, I immediately realize my mistake when Abigail freezes like a deer in headlights before twisting to face me.

"Hello?"

Embarrassed at being caught, I own up to my error and round the corner of the shelf between us with a stiff wave. "Hey… Abigail, right?" As if I don't fucking know.

Hazel eyes widen behind her glasses, and a scarlet hue spreads on her cheeks. "Uh, yeah… And you're Finn? You own Valhalla Ink. Did you need help to find a book?"

Irrational happiness that she remembers my name warms my gut. More schoolboy shit. "Just browsing for now. Unless there's something you'd recommend?"

"Well, we don't have the most up-to-date catalog, but I could probably find something you'd like. Are you sure you're in the right section, though?"

Suddenly, the small red hearts on all the book spines make sense as I understand what she means. Romance. Nothing wrong with a good love story, but it's not my usual reading material. A brief chuckle spills out at the realization as Abigail joins in with a humorous smile.

"I'm in the right section." Because you're here. "I'm ready to mix it up, so what do you suggest? What's your favorite?"

Tell me something, anything. I want to know everything about you.

"It's hard to narrow down to one, though you kind of remind me of characters from this motorcycle romance series I like…" She pauses, tugging on the sleeve of her cardigan before adjusting her glasses. "Sorry, I don't mean to stereotype." Her eyes tour over my body in apology, but I'm not offended. People assume certain things about me by the way I look and dress all the time.

"No worries; I'm not exactly a choir boy. Where's this book series? I think I'd like to check it out."

Abigail leads me to another aisle, her delicate rose scent providing the sweetest snare as I follow. One hand trails over the weathered book spines until she stops at the "C"s. A displeased sound rumbles from her throat, and the cute noise puts me in mind of a disgruntled kitten ? making me want to pet and soothe. Down, boy.

"Problem?"

"The first book in the series is checked out already, and it's really best if you read these in order." Disappointment laces her tone as she taps the offending empty slot. Sighing, Abigail bites her lower lip, clearly trying to think of a solution while my thoughts have skipped past reading to tasting her mouth ? the tender pink flesh calling to me.

"Why don't you let me know when it's available? You guys allow holds, right?" Her expression brightens, and I pat myself on the back for saving the moment. I may not frequent the library often, but I do understand the workings of their system.

"Of course! Let me grab your library card and get you sorted."

Once we've walked back to the front counter, she takes my card and starts typing into the computer. Silence falls except for the click clack of the keyboard ? a perfect opportunity to gauge where her head's at concerning Michael. "I heard about your break-up. How are you doing?"

"Break-up makes the relationship sound like more than it was; we only went out on a few dates." Abigail slides my card across the linoleum countertop when she's finished. "And I understood his reasons for wanting to end things. To be honest, he kind of beat me to it, since it was obvious we weren't right for each other."

Truer words were never spoken, but can I be right for you?

"So, you're all good. No hard feelings."

"Pretty much." Her expression lightens with a professional smile, switching topics. "Now, you're all set for this hold, and the library will notify you when it comes in. Is there anything else I can help you with?" The abrupt change hits me in the face, and I feel the sting of her dismissal. At least you got what you came here for. For a last-minute decision, I managed to see and talk to her ? more than I expected.

"No, thank you. I'm good for now, but I'll see you later? When I pick up the book?" The eager note in my voice can't be denied, but I hope she finds it endearing rather than desperate.

"If I'm working the counter. Otherwise, Amanda will assist you." She motions to an older woman checking in a load of books. The lady in question waves at the sound of her name, and it's obvious she's listened to our entire conversation by the inquisitive look in her rheumy eyes. "Thanks for stopping by. Have a good evening!"

I nod in farewell and retreat to my jeep. The lingering warmth of her presence sustains me as the winter chill nips at my skin before I settle in the raised seat ? a plan forming in my mind. We'll meet again even if I have to troll the library until she's manning the counter. A possessive streak runs straight down from my head to my heart and even further to my semi-hard cock.

She's out of my league, but I want her.

Abigail's going to be mine.