Page 59 of Silver Spoon Falls, Vol. I

FORTY-ONE

GRIZZ

Morgan flees from the library like the hounds of hell nip at her heels. I've never been one to chase a woman. But chasing this one turns me the hell on. I launch myself to my feet, determined to catch her pretty little ass so we can set a few things straight right now.

Clearly, she thinks I'm an actual stripper. My fault for not setting the record straight already, but what can I say? Giving her a lap dance sounded like a good plan to me.

My little bookworm was into it, too. Right up until I mentioned Giant.

I make a mental note to add killing him back to my list of shit to do after I buy him a distillery.

Then I slide around the corner after Morgan.

She's quick for such a little thing. I barely make it into the living room before she disappears into the foyer.

My last sight of her is of her raven hair flowing behind her as she vanishes around the corner.

And then a fist of fury clocks me right in the cheek.

"Go, Camden!"

"No means no, you big jerk!" the bride shouts, winding up to clock me again.

What the fuck?

I dodge her shitty aim, which sends her spinning into the blonde. I try to grab them before they land in a heap on the floor, but apparently, that's the wrong fucking thing to do.

An almighty racket comes from my left as every other woman in the house makes the same outraged shrieking sound, and then all hell breaks loose.

One of them kicks me in the back of the knee.

The brunette cold clocks me with a fucking pillow. And not a fluffy, comfortable bed pillow either. It's one of those goddamn pillows that double as a brick.

I land on my ass at the feet of six drunk, hissing women, asking God why.

Why do I still work for Giant when I could have retired to the fucking mountains by now?

"We should call Dillon," the brunette announces into the loud silence. I think she's crying. Jesus. Why is she crying? Considering that she just hit me with a fucking brick pillow, I should be the one in tears. Yet I'm not even mad.

Drunk women are wild, slightly terrifying, completely unpredictable adventures every day.

Especially when they're in groups. I dealt with a lot of them when Bender Valentine's ass was playing sold-out shows every night.

I never thought I'd miss it. But now that he and the band have retired… I kind of do.

I've been drifting without a purpose, unanchored and unmoored. Until tonight. Convincing Morgan Tempest, my little temptation, that she doesn't want to run from me is my new purpose in life. Once she stops running, we'll figure out the rest. I'm thinking it'll take us the rest of my life.

"We should tie him up and then call Dillon."

"We should undress him, tie him up, and then call Dillon," the redhead says.

My dick shrivels for the first time since I set eyes on Morgan.

"No one is undressing me except Morgan," I growl, launching myself back to my feet.

My lip is bleeding. I'm pretty sure I have a black eye, too.

Fuck me. I turn a hard glare on Camden. "Where is my little bookworm, and why the fuck are the six of you using me as a punching bag?

" I point at her. "And don't tuck your thumb in like that when you punch someone or you'll break it. "

Camden's scowl slips. "You're giving me advice on how to hit you?"

"If you're going to do it, do it right." I scrub a hand through my hair. "Where's Morgan?"

"You tell me!" Camden cries, throwing her hands up in the air. "You're the one who doesn't know what no means!"

It's my turn to scowl, a withering, dark scowl that has all six of them taking a step back. "You think I forced myself on her? Is that what she said?" My stomach turns at the thought. Jesus. Is that what she thinks happened? No, little bookworm, no. Never.

"I… No, not exactly." Camden swallows. "She didn't really say anything. She just ran out, and I thought…" Guilt flickers through Camden's expression, burning away the fugue of intoxication. "You didn't hurt her?"

"Hurt her? I'm marrying her." I stomp toward the door. "And I'm not a goddamn stripper. When you call Giant for a refund, tell the asshole that he still owes me for the whole night, plus pain and suffering."

"Wait!"

I pause halfway through the living room.

"She's new here, but she just got a job at the local library."

A smile curves my lips upward even as blood drips from it. She can run, but she can't hide now.

A file folder lands on the desk in front of me.

I flick my gaze up from my computer screen to see Giant looming over me like an idiot in his MC cut and faded jeans, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. You know, typical Tuesday shit.

"Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"Oh, but you do."

I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Dillon Armstrong, the sheriff of Silver Spoon Falls.

Me

Is killing your boss illegal if they deserve it? Asking for a friend.

"Who are you texting?" Giant cranes his neck, trying to see my phone screen.

"Dillon." I drop the phone on top of whatever bullshit assignment he's trying to give me now and touch my finger to my split lip.

It hurts like a motherfucker. The guys have been giving me nine kinds of hell about it and the black eye all morning.

Every time they look at me, they crack up all over again.

Assholes. "I'm trying to find out if murdering you would be justified since you deserve it.

Figured if anyone would know, he would."

Giant's smirk grows, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He's loving every second of my misery. I think he may be a sadist.

"It's not." Bella pokes her blonde head into my office, rolling her blue eyes toward the ceiling. "I asked him the same thing last week. He told me that I'm not allowed to kill the big jerk."

Giant's triumphant smirk slides from his face as consternation takes over. He spins to face his pint-sized wife, growling deep in his chest. "What the fuck, Mischief?"

"It's not like it's the first time I've wanted to smother you with a pillow, Tiny." She hits him with a bright, vicious smile before disappearing down the hallway. "Probably won't be the last, either!"

He huffs like he's offended, but we both know he's like a dog with a bone when it comes to her. He annoys the fuck out of her just to calm her down again. It's like his favorite pastime.

Dillon

Why does everyone ask me if they can kill Cormac? JFC. If I'm not dead before he reaches Ophelia's age, I'm moving to Florida.

"Is that Dillon?" Giant asks. "He better not be giving you permission to kill me, or I'm telling everyone about that thing he did with the thing that one time that I'm not supposed to tell anyone about."

"What thing?"

Me

No, you aren't. You hate the beach. You don't like getting sand in your crevices.

"Did he give you permission to kill me?" Giant asks suspiciously.

"Yep," I lie. "Even offered to help hide the body." What? I want to know about the thing.

Giant's response to that includes an impressive number of curses in inventive combinations. The bastard doesn't tell me about the thing, though. Instead, he plops down in the chair across from my desk, planting his boot on top. He immediately starts rifling through my shit.

Dillon

Get off my phone, Grizz.

Me

You never answered my question.

Dillon

No, you can't kill Giant. Don't you have a librarian to chase?

My brows pull together as I read his message. "What the fuck?"

"What?" Giant stops fucking with shit on my desk long enough to look up at me.

"How does Dillon know about Morgan?"

"I told you that you want to know what's in the folder." Giant nods to it, smirking. "Maybe I felt a tiny bit bad about you getting your ass kicked by a bunch of drunk bridesmaids, so I called in a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"The kind you can thank me for later."

I set my phone aside and carefully flip open the cover of the folder, not entirely convinced I want to know what's inside. My heart ricochets off my ribcage when I see Morgan's beautiful heart-shaped face staring up at me from the dossier inside.

Jesus. I've traveled the world with Bender and his band, seen everything it had to offer, and stayed in some of the most beautiful places it had to offer. But perfection? That's staring up at me from the folder in front of me.

Morgan Olivia Tempest, my tempting little bookworm.

"You ran a background check on her."

"Figured you might like to know who she is." He pauses. "She grew up here before her family moved. Her brother, Miles, plays for the Falcons."

"Don't tell me." I flip the folder closed, pushing it across the desk toward him.

Everything I could ever want to know is right at my fingertips, but I don't want to learn it from a file.

I want to hear it from her lips. She isn't a job.

I won't treat getting to know her like one.

I think she may be my future. That's how I'm approaching this… as something I can't afford to lose.

"Smart decision," Giant says, his voice heavy with approval. The same lights his gray eyes. "Never let a fucking file tell you what you should be finding out about your girl for yourself. Had you read the file, I wouldn't have given you the rest of the day off."

And this is why I still work for the man. He's a maniac, but his heart is bigger than that big ass body of his. I'm not telling him that, though. Uh, hell no. He sent me to work as a stripper, and I got my ass kicked by six drunk women. Let him sweat.

"The day?" I arch a brow. "Motherfucker, I'm taking the rest of the week off."

Half an hour later, I step inside the library in town. The smell of old books and industrial strength cleaner assails me. The former is a familiar, comforting scent. The second reminds me of hospitals and schools… neither of which are on my list of favorite places.

For a small town, the library is impressive. Books line every shelf in the two-story building, reaching all the way to the ceiling in places. Rolling ladders attach to the shelves so patrons or staff can reach titles on higher shelves. Computers and a reading area take up the center of the room.

Morgan's at the counter, checking out an elderly man. Or he's checking her out. The old man is chatting her ear off. I stand inside the door for a long moment, watching her as she throws her head back, laughing at whatever he's saying to her.

The man is old enough to be her grandfather, but jealousy slides through my veins anyway. I want that laugh to be because of me. I want those smiles for myself.

I roll my shoulders, trying to get my shit together. My dick is a steel rod in my pants, though, making it virtually impossible to think straight. My mind is a jumble of want, need, and claim.

The old man—Mr. Stevenson—takes his books from Morgan and steps away from the counter. Morgan turns to watch him walk away, still smiling. Her gaze lands on me. Even from across the room, I hear her gulp. I see her eyes grow three sizes and her pulse skitter.

Happiness floats through her eyes before she seems to remember something. Between one heartbeat and the next, she shuts down on me. It's like the fucking light just drains from the world. I don't like it, not one bit.

A growl rumbles in my throat as I stomp toward her, determined to get to the bottom of this right the fuck now.

My little bookworm has other plans.

She takes one look at me charging in her direction and reacts exactly like she did last night. She grabs a stack of books and flees like her life depends on it.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, Temptation," I growl, circling around the desk after her as she disappears between two rows of shelves.

Just like last night, my goddamn cock throbs at the thought of chasing her down.

Only, she's not getting away from me this time.

Not until I say what I came to say. Not until she knows there's nowhere in this town that'll keep her from me for long.