Page 24 of Unlucky in Love
That laugh. He’d replayed it a dozen times in the dark. It had lodged under his skin, familiar but changed, like hearing a favorite song in a new key.
And then there was the notebook.
When he’d asked what she’d been writing all those years ago, she’d dodged him with a story about unicorns. He hadn’t bought it for a second. Taylor never lied well. She got shifty-eyed and clipped her words, the way she had on the bench yesterday.
Which meant whatever she had written mattered. Which meant it was something she still didn’t want him to know.
Ryan turned over, punching the pillow, but it didn’t help. The questions just crowded closer. Why was she hiding? What was she afraid he’d see? And why the hell did it matter so much to him now?
Because you can’t seem to stay away, a traitorous voice supplied.
He sat up abruptly, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Fine. He couldn’t stay away. He didn’t want to. The scavenger hunt was still going, and if she thought he was going to let her wander into another secluded spot alone, she was out of her mind.
Ryan swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans, pulling them on without bothering about the cold floor. He told himself it was about safety, about caution, about common sense. But even as he jammed his arms through his jacket, he knew better.
It wasn’t just about the notes.
It was about Taylor.
And the fact that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her on that mountain, hair wild, cheeks flushed, fingers wrapped tight around something that had been left just for her.
Ryan grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He needed coffee, sure. But mostly, he needed to see her.
The bell over the café door jingled as Ryan stepped inside, shaking the cold from his shoulders. The place smelled like coffee beans, sugar, and something faintly citrusy from the soaps Taylor sold at the counter. Today, though, there was something different.
Taylor was behind the register, handing a cup to a regular, and she was smiling. Not the polite little curve she usually gave customers, not the dry smirk she saved for him, but a wide, unguarded grin that lit her whole face.
Ryan stopped mid-step. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in years.
Something was definitely up.
When she spotted him, her grin faltered into something smaller, but it didn’t disappear. She waved him over with a flick of her wrist.
“You’re here early,” she said once the last customer moved off with their latte.
“You’re in a good mood,” Ryan countered, narrowing his eyes.
She bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh, then reached under the counter and pulled out a folded slip of paper. She smoothed it flat on the wood and slid it toward him like it was contraband.
Another note.
Ryan leaned in to read.
“Some stories never make it to the shelves, but they still matter. Look where forgotten words are kept, and you’ll find the next chapter waiting.”
Then she pointed to an image of the local library on the note. Taylor’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “It’s the library basement. The archives.”
Ryan groaned. “The archives? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She laughed, low and bright. “Why do you sound like I just got drafted for jury duty? I worked a part-time job down there in high school. Don’t you remember?”
“Basements are where horror movies begin, Taylor.” He tapped the note with one blunt finger. “You’re not going down there alone. I’m going with you.”
Her shoulders shook with laughter. “You really think my secret admirer is hiding out in the library basement with a chainsaw?”
Ryan gave her a flat look. “Don’t joke. You don’t know who this guy is. All you know is he keeps leading you into isolated places and leaving gifts.”
She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling like she knew exactly how to push his buttons. “And all I know is you keep showing up to play bodyguard. Again.”
