So weird.
Cameron chuckled. “I was going to say new.”
Willow arched an eyebrow. “I’ve lived here for three years.”
“Exactly. Considering most everyone else has lived here their entire lives, you’re still the new kid in town. Give it time.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess you’re right. I mean, I do steady business. I really shouldn’t complain.” All at once, the forlorn expression vanished, replaced by a cheerful smile that showed every one of her sparkling white teeth. “Thank you, Cameron Stone. You have been most helpful.”
Cameron chuckled again and shook his head. “Why do you call me that?”
“Cameron Stone? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
Willow gasped, just a small quiet sound that was barely audible over the drone of conversation. Clutching the stone around her neck more tightly, she turned sharply toward the front of the room, the sudden movement making the oversized hoops in her ears sway wildly.
“You should check on Mr. Dare.” She spoke calmly, which didn’t match her body language at all. “I think you should do it now.”
Cameron followed her gaze, looking for any indication that something was wrong. A handful of people still grouped around the front of the table, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Granted, he couldn’t see past the couple at the head of the line to read Asher’s expression, but the guy was still sitting, so he had to assume everything was fine.
“Why? Everything looks okay.” He tilted his head, not wanting to outright dismiss her concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but I think you need to go over there.” An urgency that hadn’t been there before tinged her words. “Now. Go now.”
“Yeah, okay.” He frowned as he placed his paper cup on the corner of the nearest table. He still didn’t think there was any cause for alarm, but it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, either. “I’ll be right back.”
As he started across the room, he glanced around the milling crowd, searching for Ryder. He spotted him almost at once, standing near a cluster of older women, his posture relaxed and seemingly disinterested. Cameron didn’t miss the way his gaze flittered over the crowd or strayed to Asher every few seconds, though.
As if sensing his approach, those watchful eyes turned in his direction, and Ryder’s entire demeanor changed toone of instant alertness. Not wanting to alarm him unnecessarily, Cameron waved his hand, indicating that everything was fine. At least, he hoped it was.
Ryder remained where he was, but he didn’t relax.
Twenty feet from the stage, Cameron was just starting to feel foolish for letting Willow get inside his head when a slender man with a mop of unruly curls stepped into his path. Cameron stopped dead, his heart hammering so hard it vibrated his entire body. His eyes narrowed, his temples throbbed, and it took everything in him not to deck the asshole.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded. “You can’t be here.”
Landon Dwyer smirked. “Actually, I can.” Adopting an innocent expression, he held his hands out at his sides as he made a show of looking around the library. “Public venue. Public event. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Debatable since Cameron found his entire existencewrong, but he gritted his teeth and said nothing. The last thing Asher needed was for the bastard to twist Cameron’s words and broadcast them to the world on his stupid blog.
“Besides,” Landon added, turning to look toward the signing table over his shoulder, “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
Having to bite his tongue and play nice was infuriating, especially when he wanted nothing more than to slap the smug look off the bastard’s face. Instead, he had to contenthimself with a scathing glare as shoved past and proceeded across the room.
Maybe he’d ask Willow to hex him. That was a thing, right? She’d probably do it, too.
He was still seething as he pushed his way to the front of the line, but the instant Asher came into view, he knew something was wrong. All thoughts of Landon Dwyer gone, he hurried around the table and placed a hand on Asher’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he said softly, acutely aware of their audience. “How’s it going?”
Asher didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge him in any way. He just stared at the woman across the table as if she was death incarnate come to take his soul.
God, he was so still, and he had a drawn appearance, as if a light breeze might shatter him. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him pale and ashen, but it was the look in his eyes that worried Cameron the most. It was the same lost, empty stare he’d seen only once before—the night Kyler Anders had arrived in Dallas.
He studied the woman for a moment, looking for any trace of a threat. She was a pretty woman, probably in her fifties, with streaks of silver in her dark hair. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen her before.
“Hello,” he said, extending his right hand across the table. “I’m Cameron Stone.”
