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I’m not a people person. I don’t even try to be.

I don’t want a life filled with people, because with people comes emotions, and with emotions comes hurt.

It’s inevitable and in my opinion, it’s just not worth it.

So I don’t make connections unless those connections come with Raina. She’s the exception to the rule.

And Raina comes with more connections than Lego.

So I’ve suddenly found myself in a life where I have connections. And I haven’t decided if I liked it yet.

“What’s on your agenda?” Maddy asked as I leaned against the driver’s door of my totally awesome car.

Little cars like mine said things like “don’t even ask for a ride home, I barely have enough room to put my purse on my passenger seat,” and “Yes, I like my space big enough for me and me alone.” Anyway, that’s how I liked to think of my car.

Still, though, Maddy had a wicked awesome Audi SUV.

I’d be jealous, well—I am kind of jealous.

Except I’ve made my peace with the fact that I’ll most likely never live a day where I’m financially capable of giving myself that kind of a car.

Because of that, I’ll also never be the one voted to do the driving when it came to group situations, something I also liked.

Regardless, it’s a beauty, and I’m real enough to admit that.

“I work until four,” I announced, getting back to our conversation. “Then I’m going home and cracking the gallon of paint I bought.” Winking at her, I opened my car door. “Then I’m relaxing in a bubble bath.”

See? Lavender Epsom salts and bubbles have been officially scribbled in stone.

“You’re painting?”

I paused, door still open. “Sure am.”

“Does Beckett know this?”

“No.”

“Do we think we should tell him?”

See? The girl was pathetically responsible. It’s so overpowering it’s almost gag-worthy.

“Nope.”

“Amara.”

“Maddy.”

“Amara,” I could literally hear every note of condescending disappointment in each letter of my name. “Let’s be considerate to the fact that you’re renting from someone.”

“I can always paint it back when I leave.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Yes it is.” I shrugged, seeing the issue, but choosing to ignore it. “The only point worth fretting over, anyhow.”

She shook her head. “You tread the line of impossible.”

“Babe,” I feigned offence, only to admit. “I am impossible.”

“Amara.” She gives me that tone again—the disappointed one that had my hackles itching to rise. “If you ask him, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind. Besides, isn’t it his Dad’s condo?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie and we both knew it. We both knew Beckett had a wicked deal with his Dad that as long as he was going to school, his rent in his gorgeous condo was paid for.

I wish I had parents. The thought was so sudden; I felt a little taken aback and a lot shaken.

“Just . . .” She sighed heavily and I felt an odd tickle of discomfort. At myself. Odd, I thought, that I didn’t want to disappoint Maddy.

“Just what?”

“Just don’t ruin a good thing, okay?”

“A good thing?”

“With Beckett.”

Okay, my hackles had officially risen. “I don’t have anything with Beckett.”

“You do, Amara, and you know it.”

“All right,” I swung into my seat and started to pull the door closed. “I’ll chat with you later when you’re not being entirely ridiculous.”

Maddy didn’t reply. But she did fold her arms over her chest. And then she gave me the “Maddy” eyes.

The ones that make a girl feel all horrible and bad.

Seriously, whenever the woman decided to move forward with her life in the dating world, married, and had kids; she’d have no need to practice “mommy” eyes. She already had those down.

I started my car, and as I forced my eyes to the windshield and away from my friend, shifting the car into gear, my foot hit the pedal.

“Feeling a little tense?” Joel queried, handing the cart of books to me. “I’ll man the desk. Too much interaction with people and you’re known to blow.”

“Ha. Ha.” I snatched the cart as he tossed me an adorable “Joel” grin.

I could hear his laughter as I scooted away from the front desk, disappearing into an aisle of books. There was something peaceful about stocking books. I’d been young when I found my first love. A love of reading.

It was my first love and as all first loves go, it was intense and lasting.

When I’d first started university, I’d taken more of a wide approach, as I’d not quite known what I wanted from life. And then I found the Library—and I knew. I wanted to be a Research Librarian. I wanted to work in a grand Library with thousands upon thousands of books.

There was nothing like a building full of books, with the scent of old and new paper, ink, and leather. There was nothing like the silence captured by the written word. There was no love quite like the love one holds in their soul when they love books.

At first, I’d thought that I wanted to help the kids who were like me: kids who were lost to a system that’s too crowded for proper or true care.

But then I realized that I wasn’t fit for such a career.

Seeing all those children in situations I could never properly control would break me.

Living day in and day out worrying would only make everything I’d tried to bury bubble up to the surface, and quite possibly boil over.

So I changed the path I’d been on after a few months of indecisive worrying to focus on becoming a Research Librarian. This decision happened shortly before last year ended so I was beginning this year with a fresh goal, and new classes.

I was leaving the careers focused on caring for others to those like Raina.

People who loved children, grew up in stability and knew what such things looked like, and had strong hearts.

There was no doubt in my mind, Raina was in for a rough slap in the face with the cruel reality of some children in care, but I had something akin to faith that she would be fine.

So here I was, stocking books; a job I loved. Raina called me a machine and Joel always saved me a cart that was topped nearly to tipping. It wasn’t laziness on his part, but more a gesture of kindness. He knew the act helped me to unwind, and he also knew I needed all the help I could get.

Joel wasn’t exactly one of those people who’d found a way to slip through my tightly stitched seams, but I still liked him.

He was nice enough, sweet, and entirely focused on his girlfriend and their puppy.

Seriously, I liked dogs but that thing was way more trouble than it was worth.

I can’t even tell you how many blankets the thing has mauled, or shoes it’s chewed.

I’m more of a cat person.

“Hey,” I turned to see Joel standing at the end of the aisle with a weird look on his face. “There’s some really butch guy here to see you.”

Really butch? Joel, and only Joel, would describe another man as such. Joel was also the opposite of butch. He was long and gangly limbed, so I’d bet he figured about eighty percent of the male population around him was butch.

I rolled my eyes and parted with my cart of books, glancing back longingly as we moved. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Just that he wanted to see you.”

“Just my luck,” I said as I rounded the corner to see that the really butch guy was none other than Mr. Gorilla Man—aka Beckett Davis. “Just. My. Luck.” I breathed again and I could have sworn that he read my lips, because his lips quirked and then my heart fluttered.

I reinforced my frown.

“Hey, peanut.”

Seriously, why did the men in my life call me peanut? It’s not like I had an oblong shaped head, for goodness sakes!

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought you a coffee.” He handed me the cup with the big gold M on the side. My stupid heart fluttered again.

“Why?”

He smirked and leaned over the tall counter to place the coffee on my desk. “It’s polite to say thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever claimed to be polite.”

“True,” he looked amused. “How late are you working tonight?”

“Why?”

“Four.” Joel answered, but when my eyes shot to glare at him, he wasn’t looking at me. With all the obvious purpose in the world, he was focusing on a barcode he was about to scan.

I looked back to Beckett, feeling my spine tingle a little. I wasn’t sure if it was from irritation or excitement. Not liking the thought, I decided irritation was more accurate.

Again, Beckett grinned. “Wanna have dinner with me?”

“Not really.” I admitted, hoping I was telling the truth. Please Lord almighty let me not be crushing on this big oaf. I mean, he has a jacked-up truck! Even worse, it’s a red jacked-up truck!

I’m not saying red is bad, but it’s definitely flashy and I am so not the girl to crush on a flashy guy.

“I bought cake.”

The traitor! I was going to pull out every pretty blonde strand of Raina’s hair.

Cake, with thick gobs of icing, was totally my weakness. And Raina knew it.

“The icing is thick.” He added, tempting the already tempted cake fiend inside of me.

I said nothing.

“And it’s purple.”

Oh, my favorite color. The guy had definitely been talking to Raina. And Raina suddenly appeared to have developed a very, very big mouth.

“What do you say?” He asked. His eyes were amused.

I decided to bargain. Well, I didn’t actually decide, since the words were out before I could thoroughly think them through. I regretted them instantly.

“I’ll join you for cake if, and only if, you not only let me paint my room,” I paused for reasons that were entirely unknown to me. “But help me paint my room.”

Brows inched up, “You want to paint your room?”

“Yes.” Did my voice actually squeak?

“What color?”

Is that supposed to be a trick question?

“Purple.” What other color would I want to surround myself with constantly?

“Figures.”

I folded my arms over my chest and tapped my toe. The corner of his perfect mouth twitched and good god, my heart responded to that too.

“Well?”

“It’s a deal.”

Shit. “Great.”

“See you at four.”

There goes my lavender Epsom salt bath. I snapped, “There better be honey in that coffee.”

“Just for you, peanut.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that, but as he turned and headed for the door, I couldn’t summon the will to call after him.

A sip of my coffee confirmed that, in fact, just for me there was honey.