Page 55 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

All at once, she sat up. As she did, the faded floral sheet that had been covering the upper half of her body slipped away. Jasper had to dig his fingernails into the palm of his opposite hand just to sit in the same room with such perfection.

The fact that she’d given herself to him—and without once showing a glimmer of regret—was bad enough. That she continued to do so despite the state of this cabin and Jasper’s personal situation was worse.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve her.

“What do you mean, you have a family?” she asked, heedless of her nudity. “You mean…a wife?Kids?”

He released a silent laugh. “How old do you think I am, Catherine?”

“I don’t know…twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? It’s hard to tell.”

This time, his laugh made an actual sound, but there was no mirth in it. “I’m nineteen,” he said. “The same age as you.”

“Oh.” Her eyelids fluttered as she tugged the sheet back up around her body. Even though he could have gazed at her forever, he was grateful to have her shielded from view. He’d never been great at dealing with too much of a good thing.

“Does that mean youdon’thave a secret wife and kids stashed away somewhere?” she added.

He unfolded himself from the bed and reached for his wallet. Pulling out a photograph weathered around the edges and with images that were already starting to fade away, he handed it to her.

“That’s my mom,” he said, indicating the tall, slim woman standing on the front steps of a dilapidated town house. “The five kids seated around her are my brothers and sisters.”

She looked over the photo for a moment that felt prolonged, even to a man accustomed to lengthy silences.

“Where’s your father?” she eventually asked.

He took the picture back from her and tucked it safely away again. “He died when I was twelve. She was still pregnant with Bobby—that’s the little boy at her feet—at the time.” He paused, unsure how to say the rest without making it sound like a bid for pity. “We did okay for a few months, what with the neighbors pitching in and my mom taking in laundry, but the money ran out faster than any of us expected. I had no choice but to leave school and go to work at the lumberyards.”

“At age twelve?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He ducked his head in silent assent—not exactly ashamed, but not unashamed, either. It was a strange position to be in, and one he’d inhabited for so long that he no longer knew any other way. His lack of formal education would always weigh on him, especially since school had been the one place where he’d felt truly at peace, but he was also proud of the man he’d become. A poor man, yes. A weary man, certainly.

But also a man who took care of his family. One who made sure that Bobby, Tina, Harriet, and the twins—Uli and Olly—never had to sacrifice anything they weren’t ready to give.

“I didn’t come to Colville until a few years ago,” he said, since Catherine didn’t seem disposed to fill the silence. “I’d been working the mills in Aberdeen for almost four years at the time, and the logging company here put out a call for lumberjacks. I didn’t want to leave, but they offered a signing bonus as well as hazard pay. So I lied about my age, packed up a few things, and came here. Half of everything I earn goes home. Half of everything I earn willalwaysgo home. It has to. There are too many people counting on me.”

“Your life isn’t your own,” she echoed.

He rolled his shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I like being outside and working with my hands. I enjoy theforest and how quiet it gets at night.” He smiled slightly over this next part. “And we’ve always had a well-stocked library here in town. That means more than all the rest.”

Catherine slid out of the bed, the sheet clutched to her body like a Roman toga. For the longest moment, Jasper feared that he’d said too much—revealed a truth so bleak that she had no choice but to flee—but all she did was make her way over to the bookshelves. He could make out the curve of her naked back as it fluttered through the fabric, his whole body aching at that expanse of skin, but he didn’t move.

Running her fingers lightly over the row of books, she peeked over her shoulder at him. “That’s why you read so much, isn’t it?” she asked, and in a voice so soft that something wild threatened to break out of him. “It’s your education. Your connection to the world.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“I wish you’d tell me your favorite,” she said as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world for a man to reveal the inner workings of his heart. She examined the spines with a smile playing mischievously about the corners of her mouth. “Pride and Prejudice.Their Eyes Were Watching God. Wuthering Heights.This is quite the personal collection. Very…romantic.”

He held his breath, knowing from her light, teasing tone what was coming next. Coming from anyone else, he’d have fought back—fought against the idea that he could be so exposed and still function in a world that sought every day to wear him down. Coming from Catherine, he knew he could take anything she had to give.

At least, that was what he thought before she spoke up again.

“I brought the next book we’re going to read together,” she said, still with that teasing note in her voice. She sauntered slowly over to her bag and bent to retrieve it, aware the entire time of how exposed her body was. “But remember what I said—it’s going to shock you.”

The only shocking thing was how unshaken Jasper’s hand remained as he accepted the green clothbound book she held out to him.

“Tropic of Cancer,” he said aloud. He glanced sharply up. “Catherine! Where did you get this?”

If he hadn’t already been head over heels in love with her, the smile that curled her lips would have sealed his fate. It was equal parts mischievous and shy, daring and demure.