by Elouise East
Sinfully Star-Crossed
Bad Apples series
Elouise East
Copyright © 2020 Elouise East
SINFULLY STAR-CROSSED, BAD APPLES SERIES
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Elouise East. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or by any other means, electronic or print, without premising from Elouise East.
The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Please purchase only authorised electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All products and/or brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.
Publisher: Elouise East
Cover Design: Evanlea Publishing & Designs
Edited: Maria Vickers
Beta Readers: Courtney Green, Emma Brown, Wendy Stone
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Six Months Later
About the Author
Books by Elouise East
Chapter 1
Grant
Grant preferred the commute he had done in his previous job. Walking from one side of Princeton campus to the other was a lot quicker and easier than catching the train from Forest Hills to Tribeca in New York. He would never complain about it, though; he was lucky to be living there at all.
His dreams of finishing Princeton with his master’s degree had taken an unexpected turn, but thanks to Adam and his parents, he would still be able to graduate. Grant had been on a full scholarship, living on campus at Princeton University, but after he’d begun his second semester out of four, the scholarship funds had been discontinued. He’d been frantic, worrying about how he could afford to finish his education. He’d spoken to the career counsellor, and they’d explained several things to him. They told him he would have to leave the dorms because they were paid for using the scholarship funds, and if he moved to another university, he would lose any credits he’d received as they could not be transferred. This meant he needed to continue as a Princeton student. The counsellor had recommended transferring his degree to online classes, which were cheaper than classroom-based.
His luck had changed for the better when he’d been discussing it with Adam. Adam offered the use of his parents’ guest house in New York. It was further than Grant had planned to go, but his superior at the library had offered to contact the New York Library to see if she could get him a position there. He’d been a page at the Princeton Library ever since he’d started at the university. He’d hate to have to start from the beginning again when being a librarian was all he’d ever dreamed of. The New York Library wasn’t Princeton University Library, but it was still a library, nonetheless.
Adam had been a godsend. They’d met one day while Grant had been working. Adam was a photographer, partnered with a gorgeous black and white border collie named Bailey, and often used one of the conference-style rooms at the library as a place to teach his short course. Bailey accompanied him—how Adam got away with having the dog there, Grant never figured out. Adam was only a part time, occasional lecturer at the university; he mostly travelled the world throughout the year. His photos were used in several different international publications. He had told Grant there would be a job at Princeton for Adam whenever he touched down on U.S. soil. Job stability would be comforting for Grant at this point.
Grant found himself living in the guest house at Adam’s parents’ home in Forest Hills, commuting to the library in Tribeca four days a week and completing online classes to finish his master’s degree. Grant was in the middle of the fall semester now, and time barrelled towards Thanksgiving.
Grant left the train, and before he walked off, he checked his jacket pockets for his wallet and phone. Resituating his backpack on his shoulder, he began the short hike for his morning caffeine. He pushed through the doors of Bad Apple Café, immediately surrounded by warmth and the smell of freshly cooked food and coffee. He breathed in, savouring the aroma.
“Morning, Grant,” Lola called as she darted past him, hands piled with plates. Lola James had been working at the café as a waitress and cashier for many years, according to her. She shared some information after she had insisted on interrogating him shortly after he’d found the place. He could see the place was important to her; she interacted with everyone, always had a smile for them and never had a bad word to say—except about the traffic. Grant believed she would help anyone out any way she could, no questions asked.
“Morning, Lola. How’re things?” he asked as he stood at the counter. Lola wore her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail most days, co-ordinating the accessories to highlight the red colour. A little shorter than him, about five-nine or ten, Lola’s body showed how she looked after it. Put it this way, if she had to wear roller skates to work in, she’d have no problem doing it.
“Same old, same old.” She chuckled. “Never gets boring here, I tell ya.” She was already making his mocha latte and bagel; she knew him well. When he left the house in the morning, it was too early for him to eat, and he visited the café so he didn’t pass out an hour into his shift.
“What are you working today?” Grant glanced around the café, noting most of the tables were full. There weren’t many of them to begin with, but they were hardly ever empty.
“Full day today, hon. I’ll definitely be ready for a bath by tonight.” She placed his unordered order on the counter and accepted his payment.
“Well, I’ll be back in for my lunch today, come join me if you can.” Whenever Grant had lunch there—which wasn’t often—he invited her to join him because she would be sat in the back room alone otherwise.
“It’s a date. I’ll see ya later, hon.” She returned his change, gave him a wave and focused on the next customer.
Grant sauntered towards the library, eating his bacon, egg and cheese bagel. He still had plenty of time before he had to start work. The trains were unpredictable; therefore, Grant ensured he left early enough to account for it. Sometimes, it meant he arrived too early, but he always kept an assignment in his bag for times like those.
He observed his surroundings, seeing the change in weather and welcoming a new season: reds, greens, browns and yellows had fallen from the trees to lay at his feet as he strolled along. There were hardly any leaves left on the branches. When winter hit, the sidewalks would become white and slippery, the air frigid and the sky overcast and foggy. Winter was Grant’s least favourite season. If only he could hibernate until spring came around.
Grant missed Princeton Library, but he had to say a library was a library, regardless of where it was. Being a page had always been on his list of things to do because he had to have experience before he could be considered for a librarian position. His primary duties were shelving books accurately; finding, retrieving and organising materials; greeting an
d assisting patrons; operating the copier and scanner and helping with special events. It didn’t sound exciting to some people, but to Grant, it was great. Interacting with patrons and helping them find the perfect book or the missing link to what they were searching for made his day.
Grant couldn’t wait to finish his masters because he could begin searching for librarian work. He hadn’t decided where he planned to go, whether he’d stay in New York or go somewhere else closer to home, which for him was Cambridge, a city in southeast Ohio in the Appalachian Mountains. Deciding to go all the way to Princeton University when there was a university in Cambridge may seem strange to some, but he had dreamed of Princeton ever since he was a little kid. There had been no changing his mind once he’d decided. Plus, he needed to get away from home.
Home. His muscles tensed. He had fond memories of his younger childhood, but the moment he showed signs of being gay, well, let’s just say, he got a scholarship to a college miles away from home for a reason. The scholarship part because his parents refused to pay for him unless he “forgot all about this gay nonsense”—their words. Suffice to say, he won the scholarship and moved away from home without any regrets.
Grant finished his mocha latte and threw the cup in the bin as he trundled towards the front doors of the library. Clarissa would grumble and mumble all day if he headed in with a drink without getting her one, too. Not that she ever bought him one.
“Morning, Grant,” Clarissa chirped as she strutted past him towards her office. Clarissa was the senior librarian there and, although she was lovely in most ways, she expected everyone to pay her back in coffee rather than kindness. She was the quintessential image of a librarian: tall, willowy, brown hair tied in a bun and square glasses covering her eyes.
“Morning.” Grant sidestepped around her to the staff room, ready to remove his coat; it was a lot warmer in there than outside. He placed his stuff in his locker, removed a water bottle, clipped his keys to his belt buckle and headed to the counter. Depositing the water bottle underneath, he checked the time and commenced his usual morning checks. He was precisely on time for his shift, as usual. It was impossible for him to be late anywhere. His personality wouldn’t allow it.
The day passed slowly as he sorted out the stash of paperwork under the counter. He grabbed a pile and placed it on top, deciding what was needed and what could be discarded. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a figure moving towards a table situated in a corner of the main room. Grant would recognise that lope anywhere.
Grant watched discreetly as the guy reached the table, set down his bag, removed his coat and draped it on the back of the chair. The guy unzipped the bag, pulling out folders, paper and pens and set them neatly on the table. He arranged the folder open at the top, pad directly in front of the chair and pens to the side of the folder. Pushing the bag underneath the table, he pivoted towards the stacks. Grant stared until the guy disappeared.
He glanced back at the paperwork, the words jumbling in front of him. He wished he had the guts to go up to the stranger and start a conversation. He wouldn’t have a clue where to start, though. He only had female friends, apart from Adam, and he wouldn’t know how to talk to someone he found attractive. And the man was attractive. No, he was gorgeous. Wearing his medium brown hair short on the sides and longer on top, the guy allowed it to artfully flop to one side, occasionally covering part of his forehead. He had a perfectly straight nose above a well-tended moustache and beard, and his cheekbones were to die for. Grant had no idea what colour his eyes were because he’d never been close enough to check. The guy came in nearly every day, went to a table in a corner somewhere and studied the books he selected, flicking through them as he wrote notes. He returned them to the shelves before he left the library several hours later. Unfortunately, he never checked any books out, which was why Grant had never met him.
Telling the guy he could get a library card to take books home with him would allow Grant the chance to talk to him. However, it would also mean he might come in less often, which was purely selfish, of course, and put Grant in a quandary.
Completing his daily chores as well as impromptu ones thrown at him by Clarissa, Grant absorbed everything about the guy throughout his shift. When lunch came around, he gawked at him one last time, grabbed his things from the locker and aimed for the café again.
There was only one table free, which had a reserved sign on it. Maybe Grant wouldn’t be eating his lunch here after all.
He heard Lola shout his name and swung his gaze in her direction. She pointed at the reserved table, to him, then to the table again. He assumed the table was for them, but to make sure, he pointed between himself and the table, waiting until she nodded before taking a seat. She was amazing. A few minutes later, she came over.
“I’ve ordered you pastrami on rye with a Caesar salad for lunch. Hope that’s okay?” Lola dropped down with a sigh.
“Perfect, thanks. Bet you’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Grant leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
She stifled a yawn, then laughed. “Just a little.”
“Do you have any time off? I mean, ever?” He chuckled.
“What’s time off?” She snorted. “Yeah, I do. Although I’d love to go to the cinema one day soon. I haven’t been for ages.”
“Ah, a movie buff, you are.” Grant grinned.
“My DVD collection is nothing to be frowned upon, put it that way.” She leaned back as the waitress set their drinks in front of them: mocha latte for him, hot chocolate for her and water for both of them. “Thanks, Annabeth.” Lola drank from her water before replacing it on the table, half-empty. “God, I feel like I never drink enough when I’m working.”
“You need to take more time off, Lola. Have a break.”
She smiled, gazing around the café. “Yeah. But I love it here. It’s home.”
“I know the feeling.” It was the same feeling Grant had whenever he entered a library. “Well, if you can’t go out, remember there are DVDs you can borrow from the library as well. If you can’t get yourself to the movies, bring the movies to you instead. Come over one day and grab some.”
She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’d forgotten the library had them.”
Annabeth returned with their lunches and they ate, conversing with ease as usual. Why did he find it easier to talk to women than he did men? Maybe because he second-guessed himself at times with men, worrying that they believed he was hitting on them when he wasn’t. He hated being so unsure of himself, but it was ingrained in him, it was hard to climb out of the hole his parents helped him dig.
After lunch, Grant said his goodbyes and headed back to the library; he only had a few hours left before he could head home. Hopefully, he could watch his guy a little longer, but when he returned, the guy was gone. Those few hours seemed to stretch further in front of him with the knowledge he had no one to ogle, but it wasn’t a true hardship because he loved the job.
With the sky darkening earlier this time of year, he waited for Clarissa to lock up and saw her to her bus before strolling to the train alone. He was ready for his own space. Grant didn’t mind walking in the dark, there was enough hustle and bustle and lighting around him to make it seem almost daytime. He didn’t dawdle, though. With it being November, the temperature got cold quicker when the sun set. As it was, it would be a good hour before he’d be able to sit and relax.
Exactly one hour later, he stepped through his door and dropped his bag on the floor before flopping onto the couch. He would have to catch a quick dinner before he started studying. He still had two assignments due by the end of the following week and he needed to knuckle down to get them done. Blowing out a breath, he stood again, heading to the kitchen to throw in a microwave meal. As it cooked, he grabbed his bag and emptied his assignments onto the table, leaving a gap for his plate. He usually studied while he ate; it seemed to get him on a roll if he could read the assignment through before he had to start wr
iting it.
As the microwave beeped, he set his playlist to his favourite country songs and plated the food. This was his usual evening routine and had been as long as he had been there. And he wouldn’t change a damn bit of it.
****
Towards the end of the following week, Grant stood at the library counter, surprised to see Lola on the opposite side, holding a handful of DVDs.
“I see you’re taking advantage of our movie collection.” Grant smiled.
“Yeah. Nice choices, by the way. I could’ve taken loads more,” she retorted as she deposited ten on the counter.
Grant laughed. “Only ten. Wow, you’re holding back!” He checked them out for her but heard raised voices coming from outside. He twisted to see his guy having a heated discussion with Sister Mary Agnes, the resident tough-as-nails, agony aunt. Sister Mary Agnes was, for all intents and purposes, a defrocked nun, or so he was told. No one knew why she was no longer a part of the church—it was the best-kept secret around. She was on the short side of five-feet, slim and had salt and pepper hair, which she wore in a braid. She was usually seen wearing a skirt to her ankles and a long-sleeved top.
“Wow, they’re at it again, huh?” Lola commented.
Grant didn’t look towards her as he answered, “Yeah, third time this week. I’d love to be a fly on the wall and hear what they’re saying.” He watched as Sister Mary Agnes reached up and grabbed the guy’s shirt, bringing him down towards hers and waved a finger in his face. It appeared he was getting a telling off, and Grant chuckled as he returned to Lola’s DVDs. Sister Mary Agnes was something else. He’d been on the end of her sharp tongue before. But, as he’d found out in the past, she knew what she was talking about.
Chapter 2
Emerson
“Come on, give me a break, Sister Mary Agnes,” Emerson groaned as he listened to her spiel about going for something he wanted.