I held back a grin. "We've observed the problem. What you're doing is very admirable."

He shook his head. "Oh no, I get more out of it than anyone. To see a twelve-year-old come into my office with a mouth full of rot and then send him walking out with a beautiful smile, well, it's hard to explain that feeling. I have the ability to change someone's life, you know?" His eyes brightened and his voice was filled with enthusiasm. "There's nothing that compares to that." Clearly he was passionate about his endeavor. Adorable.

"Where are you from, Sam? You have an accent."

He chuckled. "I'm from Florida. To me, you have accents." He glanced at Marlo. "I love it."

Oh geez.

I glanced at Marlo who seemed unmoved. "Well," she said, "I need to get to work, so you have a good day, Sam. Tenleigh, I'll see you at home."

"Oh. You're going to work?" Sam asked. "Well, let me drive you. I'm headed back to Evansly anyway. I was just dropping off my card to some homes in this area, letting people know I'd see them free of charge if they were interested . . ."

Marlo hesitated and I jumped in. "Great! What a stroke of luck, Mar. I'll see you at home."

She widened her eyes at me, but smiled over at Sam. "Okay, great. Thanks, Sam."

They turned to walk to his car, Sam waving at me, and Marlo widening her eyes in a “we'll talk later” way. I turned around and headed toward the library, chuckling to myself. Either Marlo was trying really hard not to like Sam, or well, she really didn't like him. If I had to guess, I'd go with the former. I'd seen Marlo with guys I knew for a fact she wasn't interested in, and she didn't act like that. She also didn't cover her smile in front of Sam. I liked that most of all—he made her feel pretty.

I pulled the door to the library open—really nothing more than a small one-room shed with several bookshelves inside, holding as many books as could fit. I had helped one of the teachers at my high school take up a fund to set it up several years ago and folks had donated what they could. The budget had been small and didn't buy many books, but it was better than nothing. And it was usually empty. So I was surprised to see someone standing at the shelf on the back wall leafing through a book.

I walked in quietly and as I got closer, I saw it was Kyland. Stupid Kyland. I couldn't mistake that broad back and the caramel-brown hair curling up at his neck. It looked like he was returning a book to the shelf. I cleared my throat and he whirled around, the book still in his hands. My eyes moved from his surprised expression down to the title he was holding, The Weaver of Raveloe.

I leaned my hip against one of the shelves and crossed my arms over my layered sweaters, a feeling of satisfaction moving through my body as I took him in. Well, well.

Kyland narrowed his eyes at me and leaned back against the shelf behind him, sucking at his bottom lip. We stood there staring at each other for a minute in some kind of strange standoff, despite the fact that I was the only one who should be bitter here. "A little girl. That's what he found that winter night. Abandoned in the snow," he said.

I nodded slowly, my eyes moving over his face and hair, so carelessly handsome. Our eyes locked. "She gave his life meaning. She made him feel alive in a way he never had before."

He continued to stare at me. "Then he lost all the gold he'd earned after he exiled himself."

I shrugged. "Yes, and it didn't matter. He didn't care about it once he found Eppie. She ended up being his greatest fortune. She ended up giving purpose to his lonely life."

Something shifted behind Kyland's eyes. He turned around slowly and returned the book to its place. He must have checked it out the week before—after we'd talked and after I'd returned it. He turned toward me.

"Are you going to check out another one?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No." It came out clipped and certain.

I walked toward him to return the one I'd finished reading, The Bluest Eye. I leaned toward Kyland to put the book back in its place. He didn't move to accommodate my closeness.

I cleared my throat. "Well, if you set out to prove to me you're not the illiterate hillbilly I pegged you for, you—"

"Tenleigh." My eyes flew to his at the raspy sound of his voice. I stopped speaking.

There was something hard and resolute in Kyland's expression. The air was thick with tension. We both stood silently, Kyland's jaw clenching. He moved even closer to me and my heart started beating wildly, my breath coming out raggedly. Dear God, he was beautiful and I could smell his skin, clean and masculine with the slight hint of salt. I wanted to open my mouth and breathe in the air around us so I could taste him on my tongue. My tummy flipped and my eyes fluttered for a brief second. He continued to stare, seeming to note my body language and he looked . . . angry? Intense. I stood taller and lifted my chin. I didn't understand what was happening, but I wasn't backing down from this, whatever this was.

Kyland moved in close to my body until his face was right above mine. I looked up at him, blood pumping furiously through my body. "I'm going to leave here, Tenleigh. Nothing is going to stop me. Not you, not anything. Not anyone. Do you hear me?" His voice sounded strained, and his eyes were heated and angry.

My breath came out of my mouth in sharp pants as I attempted to get hold of my racing heart. I didn't need him to stay here. I didn't need him to feel indebted to me for any reason. But I did need him to kiss me. Right that very second. I moved my eyes to his lips and let out another harsh whoosh of air. Kyland made a strangled, groaning sound in his throat and moved his lips right up against mine. "I'm leaving this place behind when I go. Everything about this place. Even you."