Amber couldn't sleep after Claire's party. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look on Claire's face when she found Amber alone with Rawls in his study. The mix of shock and betrayal in her best friend's eyes made Amber's stomach twist into knots.
"It's not what it looks like," Amber had stammered, but Claire had already turned and walked away. Simpson stood in the doorway, his smirk making everything worse.
Rawls had tried to follow Claire, leaving Amber clutching her journal and feeling like her world was falling apart.
Monday morning arrived with gray skies and drizzling rain—perfect weather to match Amber's mood. Today was her first day at the library, and she hadn't heard from Claire since the party. Amber had sent three texts and left two voicemails, all unanswered.
"Focus on the job," Amber told herself as she walked through the library's heavy wooden doors. "Deal with Claire later."
The head librarian, Sarah Winters, greeted Amber with a warm smile. "There you are! Rawls spoke very highly of you."
Amber's cheeks warmed at the mention of his name. "Thank you for the opportunity."
"Let's get you started," Sarah said, leading her through the quiet library. "You'll mainly help with the front desk, returns, and shelving."
The library smelled of old books and lemon polish. As Sarah showed her around, Amber felt some of her worry melt away. Books had always been her safe place.
By lunchtime, Amber had mastered the checkout system and helped several patrons find books. The work kept her busy enough to push thoughts of Claire and Rawls to the back of her mind.
"You're doing great," Sarah told her. "Take your lunch break whenever you're ready."
Amber was organizing a cart of returned books when the front door opened, sending a cool breeze through the quiet building. She looked up—and almost dropped the book in her hands.
Rawls Benedict stood in the doorway, shaking raindrops from his coat. His eyes scanned the library until they found Amber. He walked straight toward her.
"Hello, Amber," he said, his voice low.
"Mr. Benedict," she replied formally, aware of Sarah watching from the desk.
"Please, it's Rawls." He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. "I wanted to check how you're doing after... everything."
"I'm fine," Amber lied. "How's Claire?"
Rawls sighed. "She's upset. Not talking much."
"She won't answer my calls," Amber said, her voice cracking slightly.
"Give her time." Rawls reached out as if to touch Amber's arm but stopped himself. "Claire misunderstood what she saw."
"Did she?" Amber whispered. "Or did she see exactly what she's afraid of?"
Before Rawls could answer, Sarah approached. "Rawls Benedict! I haven't seen you in here for ages."
Rawls smiled at the librarian. "Sarah, good to see you. Thanks for giving Amber a chance."
"She's already proving herself invaluable," Sarah replied. "Did you need help finding anything?"
"Actually," Rawls said, "I'm looking for some books on architectural history. For a project I'm working on."
"Amber can help you with that," Sarah said with a smile. "Show him the section in the back, dear."
Amber's heart hammered as she led Rawls through the quiet library to the architecture section. Once they were hidden among the tall bookshelves, Rawls spoke.
"I'm sorry about Simpson showing up like that. He has terrible timing."
"It's not your fault," Amber said, keeping her eyes on the book spines. "But Claire—"
"Claire will be okay," Rawls assured her. "I told her I was just returning your journal. She's more upset about Simpson staying with us for a while."
Amber looked up in surprise. "He's staying with you?"
"Unfortunately." Rawls rubbed his temple. "And now Karla's arriving this weekend. My house is becoming Grand Central Station."
Despite everything, Amber laughed. Rawls smiled, and for a moment, they just looked at each other.
"Here," Amber said suddenly, pulling a large book from the shelf. "This has great information on classical architecture."
Their fingers brushed as he took the book. That familiar spark jumped between them.
"Thank you." Rawls didn't move away. "Amber, I need to ask you something."
Her throat felt dry. "What is it?"
"With everything happening at home—Simpson, Karla coming—I need to organize my home office. Get some work done before chaos takes over." He paused. "Would you help me? Sort through my architecture books, maybe set up a better system?"
Amber blinked. "You want me to come to your house? After what happened?"
"It's a professional request," he said, though his eyes told a different story. "I'd pay you, of course."
"I don't need money," Amber said quickly.
"Then consider it a favor." Rawls stepped closer. "I value your... friendship, Amber."
The way he said "friendship" made her heart race. Was there something more in his voice?
"When?" she asked softly.
"Thursday evening? Claire has a study group, and Simpson mentioned some business dinner."
Before Amber could answer, a voice called from the end of the bookshelf.
"Ah, there you are!" Simpson Benedict strolled toward them, looking out of place in the quiet library with his leather jacket and confident swagger. "Brother, I've been calling you."
Rawls stepped away from Amber, his face hardening. "I'm busy, Sim."
"So I see." Simpson's eyes moved between them, missing nothing. "Hello again, Amber. The library suits you—all proper on the outside, but who knows what secrets hide between the covers?"
Amber's face flushed. Did he know about her journal? About her feelings for Rawls?
"I should get back to work," she murmured.
"Before you go," Simpson said, "I'm having a small gathering at The Oaks Hotel bar tomorrow night. You should come. Claire will be there."
"Claire?" Amber and Rawls asked simultaneously.
Simpson smiled. "Yes, my niece and I had a lovely chat this morning. She needs a break from all the... tension at home."
Rawls looked furious. "Simpson—"
"Just drinks with friends," Simpson interrupted. "No harm in that. Right, Amber?"
Amber felt trapped between the two brothers. If Claire would be there, maybe she could finally talk to her.
"I'll think about it," she said carefully.
"Wonderful." Simpson winked. "Now, Rawls, we need to discuss that property matter."
"I'll check these out," Rawls told Amber, holding up the books. Their eyes met one last time before he walked away with his brother.
Amber returned to the front desk, her mind spinning. Sarah noticed her distraction.
"Everything okay?" the librarian asked.
"Fine," Amber lied. "Just helping a... friend."
At closing time, Amber gathered her things, exhausted from her first day and the encounter with Rawls and Simpson. As she locked the library door, her phone buzzed with a text message.
Thursday at 7? My office could really use your help. - Rawls
Amber's finger hovered over the screen. She should say no. Being alone with Rawls would only complicate things further. But her heart wouldn't listen.
I'll be there, she typed back.
Walking home in the rain, Amber didn't notice the car following slowly behind her. Inside sat Doug Dawson, watching her with narrowed eyes, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Yeah, I saw them together at the library," he said to the person on the other end. "You were right to be suspicious."
As Amber turned the corner toward her apartment, Doug drove past, already planning his next move. In the game of hearts unfolding in this small town, he had his own secret role to play—and his own reasons for wanting to keep Amber and Rawls apart.