Oh, he’d been the center of my attention. If staring were a crime, I’d have been on top of Montana’s Most Wanted list.

Aiden King.

Another speaker started talking. Aiden’s dad, Gentry. The CEO’s voice was deep too, but with a mature timbre, as he told us about when King Oil headquarters had moved out of his hometown of King’s Creek, Montana, to the sophisticated new office building in Billings.

I should be taking notes. It would be a good research topic for work. I could present on it. But I already knew all the details. When it came to Aiden King, I had paid attention. I hadn’t outgrown that lovesick teen from my brother’s high school wrestling matches.

I was in the back of the group. As soon as I’d heard King Oil had extended an invite to the public library staff for a private tour, I’d been a puddle of anticipation. For six weeks, I’d heard about other civic bodies around Billings being personally invited for a tour. First, the city council. Then the city maintenance department. City zoning and planning. All departments that worked directly with King Oil. The company gave generously to the library each year, but I didn’t think we’d get an invite. Until King Oil HR had contacted the library director.

I’d given myself a pep talk. This was a King Oil tour, but that didn’t mean that Aiden would participate. He probably had better things to do with his Friday night. But he was helping to lead the tour with Gentry and the head of HR.

I was twenty-eight and old enough not to act like a fourteen-year-old with a crush. Instead, I had gotten up this morning and blown out my hair. I’d had to learn how to blow out my damn hair first. And I’d had to rewash it and try again. Twice. Then I’d stood in front of my hole-in-the-wall closet and stared at my clothing choices. How obvious would it be if I showed up for the tour all oh, this old thing? in a brand-new outfit that made my bank account choke?

No, I would work with what I had, though at least my new non-frizzy hair wouldn’t stand out. What did I own that wasn’t stereotypical staid librarian? My coworkers dressed in various interpretations of business casual, and I wasn’t any different. I usually wore slacks or leggings and an oversized sweater. In the summer, I wore a blouse—in a pattern if I wanted to be wild.

Reaching for a frilly shirt that would look cute with plain black leggings, I frowned and paused. My hand hovered over the fabric. The top had a faint floral print. As a lifelong wallflower, I did not need to wear flowers on my top as I hovered in the back of the crowd.