“Not exactly. It’s just …” The librarian glances around the empty lobby. “From what I can tell, there’s no real consensus on the club.”

“What do you mean?” I lean on the counter, sensing that Juliet would rather keep her voice low.

“Some people seem to think they’re separate from the town. Like they shouldn’t have to follow the same laws we do. And there are others who basically ignore them. But I get the feeling a lot of people are scared of them.”

“Scared of them? Why?”

She raises a crimson brow at me. “Loud bikes. Mean faces. Dressed head to toe in leather. Bikers aren’t really the happy, cuddly type.”

I wonder if Juliet has ever met Warner. No way would I ever call his face mean. And he might not be so bad to cuddle with. He certainly was warm when I had my arms wrapped around him on his bike.

I push the teasing thoughts away and focus on the conversation.

“My dad is in a biker club. Up in Denver. They go riding on weekends, and they hold fundraisers for veterans suffering from PTSD.” My shoulders shrug. “I guess bikers don’t really scare me.”

Juliet sits back in her chair, eyes running over me as if I were something to be studied. She sighs, almost sounding relieved. “Me neither.” Then, she smiles with a soft curve of her lip.

In that moment, I can’t help noticing how beautiful she is. Not in a walk-down-the-runway kind of way. Juliet has the type of face that tricks you into thinking it’s ordinary. That every bit of it is just fine and nothing more. But the moment she smiles, it’s as if the light takes notice, chiding itself for not giving her the proper attention moments ago. She’s all red and gold, like a phoenix. My mind starts cycling through color palettes that would pair well with her complexion.

I want to crochet her a forest-green scarf and hat set. With matching mittens.

I want to invite my brothers out here, herd them into the library, point to Juliet, and demand one of them woo her so she can be a member of our family. That way, I can enjoy her smile for the rest of our days.

But knowing the Gunner boys, they’d never leave, and then I’d be stuck in the same mess I just escaped from.

Still, I realize something very important.

Juliet is going to be one of my few cherished friends.

Now, I just need to figure out the best course of action to make that happen. If I tell her outright, I might scare her off.

“Would you like to be friends?” My abrupt mouth spits in caution’s face. At least I framed it as a question rather than a demand.