Page 2 of Overtime with Orion (Mountain Men Fall Harder #1)

ORION

The curvy brunette was here somewhere.

I tried not to think about her as I fetched things for my sister. Turned out, Cassie didn’t need help at her booth as much as she needed an errand boy.

Not that I minded. Every time my sister sent me to grab water or lunch or extra books from her trunk, my heart sped up a little. Would this be the errand that had me running into Larkin again?

Larkin was young. Even younger than my sister. I put her in her early twenties—twenty-four at most. She had bright green eyes that practically sparkled when she smiled. And she was passionate about her work. That made me wonder if that passion transferred to the bedroom.

My mind had been going crazy all morning with thoughts like that.

It was the second trip to the car that did it.

I spotted Larkin getting out of a black SUV that was parked in one of the few vacant spots that came open as people left after lunch.

I could blame it on my long dry spell, but no woman had ever lit a fire inside me like Larkin did.

I couldn’t even explain what it was about her.

As she unlocked her trunk and opened it, my movements sped up. I grabbed the box my sister requested, shut the trunk with my elbow, and began my brisk walk across the parking lot just as she was settling the straps of a large, oversized tote bag onto her shoulder and shutting her own trunk.

“Need some help?” I called out as I approached.

She turned, and that smile hit me like a linebacker blindsiding me from my weak side. “Orion. Hi.”

I shifted the box to one arm and gestured toward her tote. “That looks heavy.”

“It’s just books,” she said, but there was a breathless quality to her voice that matched how I felt. “I’m taking them to the library booth.”

“Library booth?”

“We have a small setup near the kids’ area. Just some local favorites and new releases.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the same nervous gesture from earlier. “Nothing as exciting as cozy mysteries.”

“Mind if I walk with you? I’m heading back to Cassie’s booth.”

“Sure.” She started walking, and I fell into step beside her. “How are you finding the festival?”

“Different than I remember.” I glanced around at the booths and vendors. “More…organized.”

She laughed, a sound that did things to my chest. “Everything’s more organized when you let the librarian help plan it.”

“Let me guess—you volunteered?”

“Volunteered is a strong word. More like I made some suggestions that turned into spreadsheets, which somehow turned into being in charge of vendor placement and signage.” She shrugged. “It’s a sickness.”

“The organization thing?”

“The inability to leave well enough alone.” She glanced at me sideways. “Case in point—your sister’s book display this morning.”

“She told me about that.” I grinned. “Said you made it look ‘actually professional’ for the first time ever.”

“Don’t tell her I said this, but the way she had them arranged was giving me anxiety. Like, physical discomfort.”

“That bad?”

“Book Four next to Book One of a different series, Orion. Book. Four.”

She said it like it was a war crime, and I found myself chuckling. “I’m guessing that’s not how libraries work.”

“Libraries have systems. Beautiful, logical systems that make sense.” Her eyes lit up as she talked. I could listen to her explain library science for hours. “Everything has a place, and when it’s in its place, the world makes sense.”

“Must be nice,” I said quietly.

She glanced at me, something shifting in her expression. “What do you mean?”

I wasn’t sure why I’d said it. The words had just slipped out, revealing more than I’d intended. “Nothing. Just…I’ve been feeling like nothing makes sense lately.”

We’d reached the library booth—a small table staffed by an elderly woman who lit up when she saw Larkin. “Oh good, you brought reinforcements!”

“Mrs. Meade, this is Orion. Cassie’s brother.” Larkin hefted her bag onto the table and started pulling out books. “Orion, this is Mrs. Meade. She basically runs the library when I’m not there.”

“Which is never,” Mrs. Meade said with a fond smile. “This girl practically lives at the library.”

“Someone has to make sure the books stay in order,” Larkin said, but she was blushing.

I set my box down and helped her arrange the new books on the display. Our hands brushed as we both reached for the same novel, and the contact sent electricity up my arm. From the way she sucked in a breath, she felt it too.

“So,” Mrs. Meade said, apparently oblivious to the tension crackling between us, “you’re the famous football player people around here are always talking about.”

“Former football player,” I corrected, probably more sharply than necessary.

“Oh.” Mrs. Meade looked confused, but Larkin shot me a look that was pure understanding. Like she got it—the loss, the identity crisis, the feeling of being stuck between who you were and who you’re supposed to be now.

“Mrs. Meade,” Larkin said smoothly, “didn’t you want to go check on the children’s reading corner?”

“Right, yes.” The older woman bustled off, leaving us alone.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“Not asking questions. Not pushing.” I arranged the last book on the display. “Most people want details about the injury, or they tell me everything will work out fine, or they have suggestions for what I should do next.”

“And you don’t want any of that.”

“I don’t know what I want.” The honesty surprised me.

I’d been giving everyone the same line about “taking time to figure things out” and “exploring options.” But something about Larkin made me want to tell the truth.

“I’ve been playing football since I was six years old. It’s all I’ve ever known. And now…”

“Now you’re figuring out who Orion is when he’s not on a football field.”

“Exactly.” My eyes met hers. “You get it.”

“I get feeling lost.” She leaned against the table.

“I never wanted to be anything but a librarian. Even as a kid, I was organizing my books by reading level and making card catalogs for my dolls. But sometimes I wonder if I’m hiding behind it.

Using organization and systems to avoid the messiness of real life. ”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Hiding?”

“Maybe.” She smiled, but it was self-deprecating. “It’s safer than taking risks.”

I took a step closer. “What kind of risks?”

The air between us charged again, just like it had at Cassie’s booth. She looked up at me, those green eyes wide, and I could see the moment she realized what kind of risk I was talking about.

“Orion…”

“I know. I know all the reasons this is complicated.” I reached out and tucked that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear again. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then help me fix that.” I let my hand linger against her cheek. “Show me what’s changed in town since I’ve been gone.”

“I…” She leaned into my touch for just a second before stepping back. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“Probably not,” I agreed. “But I’m asking anyway.”

She studied my face, and I could practically see her weighing pros and cons, making mental lists of reasons to say no. Finally, she sighed. “Okay. But I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You have to teach me something about football.”

I blinked. “Football?”

“Cassie talks about it constantly, but I know literally nothing about the sport. I mean, I know there’s a ball and people run around, but that’s about it.” She looked almost embarrassed. “I’ve been nodding along for months, pretending I understand what she’s saying.”

A laugh bubbled up from my chest—the first real laugh I’d had in months. “You want me to teach you football.”

“Is that weird?”

“It’s perfect.” And it was. Here was this brilliant woman who could organize the entire world but didn’t know a touchdown from a field goal. It was charming and refreshing and completely unexpected. “When do we start?”

“How about tonight? After the festival dies down?” She bit her lip, thinking. “Though I’m not sure where we could go that’s not completely crowded…”

“I know a place.” The words came out before I’d really thought them through. “Osprey Lake. Do you know it?”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve heard about it but never been.”

“It’s quiet. Private. And there’s enough open space by the water to actually throw a ball around without hitting anyone.

” I found myself looking forward to showing her the place.

I’d discovered it years ago during high school, back when I needed somewhere to think without the whole town watching.

“Plus, if I embarrass myself trying to explain football basics, there won’t be witnesses. ”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It’s a date.”

The words hung between us, heavier than I’d intended. Because it was a date, wasn’t it? Despite all the reasons it shouldn’t be, despite the complications and the fact that I was only in town temporarily, I wanted it to be a date.

From the way Larkin’s cheeks flushed, she wanted it to be one too.

“I should get this back to Cassie,” I said, picking up the box I’d completely forgotten about.

“Right. And I should…” She gestured vaguely at the library booth.

“Seven o’clock? I can pick you up, or if you’d rather drive yourself…”

“I’ll drive myself,” she said quickly, then looked almost embarrassed by how fast she’d answered. “I mean, I like having my own car. Just in case.”

“Just in case I turn out to be a terrible teacher?”

“Just in case you turn out to be better at it than I expect.”

The way she said it, with that hint of breathiness in her voice, made it clear we weren’t just talking about football anymore.

“Seven o’clock at the lake, then.”

“Seven o’clock.”

I started to walk away, then turned back. “Larkin?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring comfortable shoes. And maybe a jacket. It gets cool by the water after sunset.”

Her smile could have powered the entire festival. “I can’t wait.”

As I walked back toward Cassie’s booth, box in hand, I realized something had shifted inside me. For the first time since my injury, since my career ended, since my entire world got turned upside down, I was looking forward to something.

And it was all because of a curvy brunette librarian who organized books and didn’t know the first thing about football.

Maybe not knowing what came next wasn’t so scary after all.