"Assessing," I correct her, not embarrassed about being caught.
Now she does turn, those green eyes meeting mine directly. "And what's your assessment?"
"That you're either the best liar I've ever met, or you're exactly what you appear to be."
"And what do I appear to be?" she challenges, one eyebrow raised.
"Someone who doesn't back down. Someone who's seen enough shit to know how the world really works." I pause, then add, "Someone who's a lot stronger than most."
Her expression shifts subtly—surprise, maybe even appreciation. "Most people just see the small-town girl who works at the library."
"I'm not most people."
"No," she agrees, her eyes traveling over the tattoos on my neck, the scars on my knuckles. "You're definitely not."
It's dangerous, this pull toward her. I'm not here for this. I'm here for Lilly, to deal with a problem, then get back to the club. Anything else is a complication.
And yet…
"Oh, it's starting!" Lilly exclaims as the first real firework erupts overhead, a massive red and gold that reflects in Katty's eyes.
For the next few minutes, we watch in silence as the sky fills with light and thunder. I've never been a fan of fireworks—too similar to other explosions I've experienced—but I find myself watching Katty's reactions more than the display itself. The way she smiles at the larger bursts, the slight intake of breath at an unexpected pattern.
It's during a particularly loud sequence that I spot them. Four figures making their way up the service road toward our position. The lead figure is unmistakable even in the darkness. Dylan. And he's brought backup.
"We've got company," I say quietly, rising to my feet. "Four of them coming up the back way."
Katty is on her feet instantly, pulling Lilly up beside her. "Dylan?"
"And friends." I step forward, positioning myself between them and the approaching group. "Stay behind me."
"Like hell," Katty mutters, moving to stand beside me. "I'm not cowering while you handle this alone."
Before I can argue, Dylan and his entourage crest the hill. In the flashing light from the fireworks, I see he's brought three guys who look like they've just stepped out of a college fraternity. Young, soft, with that entitled look I've seen a thousand times.
"Lilly!" Dylan calls out, ignoring me completely. "I need to talk to you. Just for a few minutes."
"She doesn't want to talk to you," I respond, my voice carrying easily despite the fireworks overhead. "Time for you to leave."
Dylan's eyes finally flick to me, dismissive. "This is between me and my girlfriend."
"Ex-girlfriend," Katty corrects, her stance wide and confident beside me. "And she already told you it's over."
One of Dylan's friends—a stocky kid with a backwards baseball cap—laughs. "Dude, your girl's got a bodyguard now? Two of them?"
"Go away, Dylan," Lilly says from behind us, her voice trembling but determined. "I've told you a hundred times, we're done."
Dylan's face hardens, the mask of charm slipping. "Look, I've tried to be reasonable. I've given you space. But we need to talk, and we're going to do that now. Either the easy way or the hard way."
His friends spread out slightly, trying to look intimidating. It would be laughable if the situation weren't so potentially volatile. These boys have no idea what they're stepping into.
"You threatening my sister?" I ask, a dangerous calm settling over me. It's the same feeling I get before any confrontation—a cold clarity that slows everything down.
"I'm saying," Dylan enunciates slowly, "that I'm going to have five minutes alone with Lilly. You and the librarian can wait right here."
"That's not happening," I state simply.
Dylan's eyes narrow. "Look, I don't know what kind of tough guy act you think you're pulling with your little biker costume, but in Sweetheart County, the Thomas family gets what it wants."
