I skirt around two women pushing prams and slip between the library’s open doors. The familiar scent of ink, musty parchment, and worn leather fills my lungs, dampening my ire.

Never in my life have I seen shelves this high. With the way the shadows cling to the vaulted ceiling, you can barely see the tops. There are more books in this place than a fae could hope to read in ten lifetimes.

Quietly, I make my way to where a woman in a pinstripe suit sits behind a wide mahogany desk. When I ask for Trevor Dillon, she gives me directions to an office at the very back of the library.

I find Trevor bent over a large book with ornate script in golds and greens, glasses perched at the end of his nose and his hair falling over his brow. He looks so handsome, so quiet and studious, yet there isn’t so much as a flutter in my stomach.

There used to be though. Where have all the flutters gone?

Trevor glances up, his eyes widening when they meet mine. The chair scrapes the ground as he pushes back from the desk and launches to his feet. “Kerris. What are you doing here?” He swipes the glasses from his nose, tucking them into the pocket of his tweed waistcoat.

He smiles and I feel…nothing. I press a hand to my stomach, willing the butterflies to wake up, but they remain dormant. “I was in town and thought I’d call in to see if you’d like to come out for a bite to eat.”

His smile falters and his shoulders fall with his sigh. “That sounds lovely, but I am quite busy today.”

What did I expect? That he would drop everything simply because I strolled in?

I should let him get back to work, but first, there is a mystery to solve. I let my fingers trail along the flower’s silky petals as I tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ear.

Trevor’s lips press flat, his brow furrowing. “That flower you’re wearing. What kind is it?”

If he doesn’t know, then he probably isn’t the one who left it for me either. God’s tooth, this is so frustrating. I’ve met a handful of other men in Rosehill but cannot imagine any of them leaving flowers without so much as a card. “I was actually hoping you could tell me.”

Fishing out his glasses once more, he gestures toward the bloom. “May I?”

I slip the flower from behind my ear and hand it over.

“It looks like some sort of lily, but I’ve never seen one with petals like this. Truly remarkable.” After a few more moments of study, he tucks it behind my ear once more, his fingers lingering in my hair.