Page 2 of If You Claim Me

I ignore the soft feeling that blooms in my chest at the adorable nickname this hard-edged, posh-as-fuck man has for his grandmother.

I have so many new questions. Like, why am I the person he’s sought out? Also, he and his family are billionaires. Why in the world would he need books from the library for his grandma when she can probably afford to buy every bookstore in the city?

I link my arms behind my back so I can snap my hair tie a few times. I’m still fighting my panic spiral. “The world doesn’t revolve around you and your needs, Connor.”

“Oh, I’m highly aware.” His steely eyes stay fixed on me, full of secrets and sadness. “My needs are generally at the bottom ofeveryone’s list. But my world revolves around Meems, and right now she needs what you have.”

Is this emotional manipulation? Connor knows how soft I am for Lexi’s sisters. Maybe he’s exploiting that for his Meems. My natural reaction is to dig my heels in. “So my world is supposed to revolve around her now, too?”

The harsh slant of his brow softens slightly, despite my sharp words. “Meems has an appointment in less than an hour. I’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes already, and I’m supposed to meet her at the doctor’s office. I just need her books.”

I cross my arms, frustrated by his pretty face and his entitlement. “Why is your lack of time management my problem to solve, Connor?” I have my own crap to deal with, but my compulsion to fix problems wants to win this battle. Which is so damn annoying.

Dorothea, the ancient and unfortunately unfriendly head librarian who has worked here longer than the world has been turning, rounds the corner. The lines in her face deepen. “Mildred! You are not allowed to bring nonemployee guests into the staff room! Tell your boyfriend he can visit you in your off-hours.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I didn’t invite him back here.” I take Connor by the elbow and ignore the warmth that travels through my arm at the contact. “I’ll just show him out.”

“Your break is over in one minute!” she calls after me.

“She seems fun,” Connor mutters.

“You have no idea.” I usher him through the door and steer him out from behind the counter, putting much needed space between us. “How did you even get back there?”

“I walked through that door.” He points to the one clearly labeledEmployees Onlywith a long, perfectly manicured finger.

He pulls a list out of his pocket and holds it in front of me. I snatch it from him. The handwriting is familiar. “Please explain.”Because I don’t have the mental or emotional bandwidth to decode this mystery on my own.

“That’s Meems’s—my grandmother’s—list. She comes here every Wednesday to return her books and take out new ones. I’m here to pick them up.” He crosses his thick arms over his thick chest and stares down at me with expectation and irritation. “She said you would have them ready for her.”

From the little I know about Connor, his grandmother is one of the only members of his family who supports his career. “I’ll need to look her up. Is Meems her real name?”

“No, it’s Lucy Drake. Do you have the books or not?”

The dots connect.Oooohhhhh. I know that name well. In all the months he’s been sitting next to me at Callie’s games, Connor has never once mentioned his family. Although, when we attend Callie’s hockey games, Connor is focused on cheering for Callie and makes the most limited of small talk. But he always sits beside me. Every time. And he’s stiff and awkward with me and sweet as a gooey marshmallow with Callie.

Of course this means I find him endlessly fascinating.

And this new information only ups that intrigue. “Lucy Drake is your grandmother?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” his voice drips with impatience.

“Why doesn’t she go by Grace?”

“Because it’s less recognizable.”

“Right.” Another wave of panic hits, and I reflexively snap my hair tie half a dozen times. “Why isn’t Lucy here? What kind of appointment does she have?”

His jaw tics, and his eyes flash. “She’s been unwell. As I said, she has a doctor’s appointment. I’m her errand boy, hence my request for her books.”

“How ill? Is she okay?” Lucy is one of my favorite library patrons. I look forward to her weekly visits. She’s always dressed like she’s ready for Sunday service, which makes sense now that I know she’s richer than God. I always reserve one of my breaks for when she comes in.

Connor purses his lips, like offering personal information is painful. “She’s felt better. May I please have the damn books?”

“They’re not ready yet. She doesn’t usually come until later in the afternoon, and I’m waiting on one to be returned. It should be here before the end of my shift.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his discontent shifting. “She needs the books. I can’t disappoint her.”

His swell of anxiety softens the edges of my own, like my body is trying to neutralize it. I know that Lucy reads in the morning and in the evening before bed. It’s part of her routine, and I understand how hard it can be to lose that. “I can bring them to her tonight. I’m off around six.”