I expected him to let go of my hand, but he didn’t, and I should have questioned it, but I didn’t.

“You know they filmed scenes from the Harry Potter films right here in Alnwick,” Roane told me as he followed me through the stacks. “At Alnwick Castle and Gardens.”

“Really? Will you take me there sometime?”

I was too busy studying the shelves to see his expression, but I heard the affection in his tone when he replied, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Evie.”

That’s when I discovered there was such a thing as a word-provoked heart flutter.

Commencing “ignore heart flutter.”

To do that, I found a way to release his hold on my hand without it being too obvious, using the crowds as obstacles. However, Roane stayed with me, seeming content to watch me peruse the shelves, moving from bookcase to bookcase. The book titles quickly became a blur as my awareness zeroed in on one thing, one person.

Him.

I felt the warmth of his presence, hovering at my back, and felt the heat of his gaze on my face. The skin on my cheek tingled, and I wondered if it had turned red under his intense regard.

My breathing grew more shallow as Roane’s fingertips brushed against the small of my back, as if he were afraid that without that lack of connection I’d somehow disappear as I moved along the stacks.

What the hell was I supposed to do with this inconvenient attraction?

Most times we hung out at The Anchor with other people as buffers. There were moments we were alone, and we were comfortable, but then I’d catch Roane looking at me in a certain way or he’d notice I’d been staring at his mouth, and the sexual tension would fill the air between us.

Like now.

Busy frantically pondering how to defuse the chemistry we shared, I hadn’t realized what book I’d halted in front of until it was too late.

A historical romance novel with a couple in a sexy clinch on the cover.

Perfect.

My cheeks were definitely bright red.

Roane’s fingertips pressed deeper against my lower back, and then I felt the whisper of his lips on my ear as he commented, “Interesting choice.”

I made the mistake of turning my head toward him and found his nose inches from mine. Our eyes locked for a second before his gaze dropped to my mouth.

Today he smelled like freshly mown grass sprinkled with musky male spice.

My body swayed slightly toward his, and Roane apparently took the movement as an invitation, his head dipping those last few inches.

“Excuse me.”

A voice, loud and close, jolted me away from Roane, whose mouth had been millimeters from touching mine—so close, I’d felt his breath tickle my lips.