Page 22 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

He grinned and handed me the book that he’d been holding out of my reach. “I don’t normally memorize book quotes, but that’s what I was trying to tell you. Someone wrote a bunch of messages in the margins. That was one of the sections they highlighted.”

The moment he placed the blue book in my hands, I felt a tingle of electricity. Not—as Lonnie and Pepper and their hoard of Harlequins would tell you—because of the gentle brush of Zach’s fingers against mine, but because of what I knew I’d find when I opened the cover. The copy wasdefinitelyold enough to be part of my growing Jasper Holmes collection; the faded cloth cover and gilded lettering belonged to a much earlier era.

“You read the whole thing?” I asked as I flipped through the pages. I paused when I got to the end of the ninth chapter. Next to a line about coagulation, I found the writing that was starting to become as familiar to me as my own.

I didn’t mean to scare you. I hope there was no lasting damage.

I’ll live, which is more than I can say for the poor C in this book. I’ll never understand why all the literary greats insist on killing female characters off in order to redeem a man.

Because you terrify us.

I’ve never terrified anyone a day in my life.

That’s not true. You terrify me.

Is that why you ran away without saying anything when I saw you in the drugstore yesterday?

“You don’t look surprised,” Zach said, watching me as I eagerly devoured the lines. “Do you know these people?”

“I’m starting to,” I said as I traced the words with my fingertip. The bit about the “poor C in this book” stood out the most. Thanks to Jasper’s handwriting on the check, I’d already confirmed that the barely legible scrawls were his. But the other writing, the pretty writing, told a much more detailed story. Namely, that the C inA Farewell to Arms—the main character, Catherine—wasn’t the only C we were dealing with. In fact, it sounded to me like the two of them may have shared a name.

Catherine and Jasper. Jasper and Catherine.

“The quote you just recited,” I said hurriedly. “The one about breaking people—what page is it on?”

“I don’t remember,” he said. “Somewhere near the end. Why?”

I wanted nothing more than to take my treasure to a back room and pore over each of the lines in private, but I sensed that Zach was watching me more closely than I cared for.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” I said in my primmestlibrarian voice. “Vandalizing library books, even ones as old as this one, is highly frowned upon.”

Then, because it seemed odd that this level of vandalization would have gone unnoticed for the sixty-some odd years that this book had been sitting on the shelves, I flipped open the cover and looked for the barcode. It was there, but the edges were peeled up in a way that would cause Gunderson to prepare an hour-long lecture on maintaining standards.

“Wait,” I said, suspicious. “You checked out an ancient Hemingway fromthislibrary?”

He shrugged. “The nights can get pretty long out under the stars. Reading helps pass the time.”

“And you found it on the regular shelf?” I persisted, trying not to picture this man spread out in a makeshift bed of leaves and twigs, reading Hemingway under the light of a full moon. I wasn’t a woman given to romantic sentimentality—when would I have the time?—but there was something about the image that left me shaken. Pepper had been right about that part, for sure. “Not…hidden behind some rusted plumbing or anything?”

“What would you do if I said it was given to me by a fairy godmother who holds the secret to true love?” he asked, a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

I let my own mouth form a flat line. “That I don’t believe a word you say.”

“Fine.” He heaved a playful sigh. “Then I found it on an ordinary shelf on an ordinary day. You’re no fun.”

I didn’t dignify this with a response, which was my first mistake. My second, I soon realized, was letting this man trap me in a quiet corner of the library in the first place.

“Now me, on the other hand,” he added mischievously, “I’m tons of fun. If you let me take you out on Saturday night, I’d be happy to show you.”

A low cough interrupted our conversation before I could reply. This was good for a lot of reasons, most of which had to do with how quickly and vehemently thenorose to my lips. Dating was as out of the question for me as packing my family up for a whirlwind getaway to Disneyland. Especially dating a guy like this one, who probably asked out every personable woman he ran into in our small rustic town. But hehadsaved my brother’s life, and hehadbrought me this book, so I figured I should let him down gently. At the very least, I could give him a peek inside the hot mess of my life so he realized how much better off he was not touching it with a ten-foot tentpole.

“I’m sorry to interrupt what looks like an important literary discussion, but I need you to cover the reference desk for Daisy’s break,” Gunderson said. He leveled his sternest glare at Zach, though he needn’t have bothered. Zach was as impervious to him as he appeared to be to everything else. “Perhaps there’s something I can help you find, young man?”

“Actually, you can,” Zach said without batting an eyelash. Well, technically that wasn’t true—he winked at me, but only when he was sure Gunderson wasn’t looking. “I work over at the survival school, and I’ve been hoping to build up a reading list of survival stories for the men and women who pass through. Shackleton’s expedition,The Martian,Lord of the Flies, that sort of thing. Do you think you could help me come up with some titles I might not be familiar with?”

I had no idea how Zach knewexactlyhow to win Gunderson over to his side, but I suspected it was all part of the pickup-artist charm that practically oozed out of him. With a roll of my eyes, I turned to leave. As far as I was concerned, these two could have each other and welcome to it.

“Oh and, Chloe?” Gunderson asked. I clutched tighter at the copy ofA Farewell to Arms, fearful that he might order me to damage it out or, worse, put it on hold for someone else. I had every intention of tucking this beauty away until I could properly pore over the pages.