Home > Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(2)

Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(2)
Author: Mimi Strong

Just as the door was closing, I thought of the perfect comeback. I called out, “The novels probably have too many words for you, but we do have some nice coffee table books!”

The door clicked shut, my perfect insult wasted on an empty store.

She'd really gotten under my skin, though. I couldn't be sure, but she looked exactly like a girl I went to high school with, Brie, who'd always walk up to girls and ask where they bought some article of clothing. When the unwitting victim would answer, she'd smirk and say, “Good to know,” and her dumb stuck-up friends would all laugh and laugh. She wasn’t my friend, but in a small town like Beaverdale, she was hard to avoid.

Something made a noise at the back of the shop, and I jumped in alarm.

The man came walking up, weaving his way around tall shelves crammed with books and topped with overgrown houseplants thriving under the skylight.

I held my hand to my chest, the fabric of my bridesmaid dress crinkly. “You scared me.”

His voice deep and sexy now that he seemed more relaxed, he said, “Did you already forget about me?”

“I was distracted by Little Miss Snobbypants with the film crew.”

He held up the book. “This is very informative. What do I owe you?”

I felt myself blushing under his sexy stare, so I started doing busy-work with my hands on the store's counter, stacking the Post-It notepads, putting away the passport stamp, and straightening the pens in the decorated tin can holder Kyle made for the grand re-opening of Peachtree Books after the Big Split.

“You don't really have to buy that book,” I said. “I'm sure your bladder control is just fine, and men don't have kegel muscles.”

“They don't? Well, that's not fair.”

I stared up at his beautiful green eyes, crinkled at the sides with a smile. My own eyes are blue, and they disappear more than crinkle.

Casually, I asked, “So, are you a criminal, or a celebrity?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“You look familiar.”

His eyes traveled down my body, and I tried to suck in my gut even more, but I was already strapped into two pairs of Spanx, and my organs had nowhere left to go.

With a sexy growl to his voice, he said, “Do you always dress so fancy at work?”

“I'm going to a wedding in half an hour.”

“A wedding!” He took two steps back and gave me an appraising look, his arms crossed. He looked equally dressy, in sharply-creased gray trousers and an expensive-looking dress shirt, rolled up at the cuffs to reveal muscular arms with a smattering of dark hairs. Even his forearms looked familiar, almost as though I'd spent countless hours staring at them.

He continued, “That's a shame you're getting married, because I would have liked to ask you on a date.”

This caused me to laugh and gasp for air. “I'm not getting married, I'm a bridesmaid.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “And this is all happening shortly, so I guess I should be getting on my way.”

I glanced at the door while mentally willing him to stay. Stay forever! Just kidding. Stay for a few more minutes?

“No rush,” I said. “I'm waiting for my employee, and then I'll call for a cab.”

“My driver's nearby. I could give you a lift, as a thank you for allowing me to hide in your bathroom like a coward.”

“I'm sure you're not a coward. That reporter was nasty. I can't say I blame you for running.” I shook the pens out of the tin can, and along with them came some little bits that had been hidden, including an eraser, three gummy bears, and a square packet that was unmistakably a condom packet. There it was, right between us. SEX, SEX, SEX! Naturally, I shrieked.

The man jumped. “What is it?” He turned to the window, on the alert for reporters. “Are they back?”

I snatched the condom packet from the pile of debris, and stuffed it into my purse, which was just under the counter top.

He turned back and frowned down at the pens. “I could have sworn there there five gummy bears there a moment ago.” He grinned at me. “Did you eat two of them?”

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue in answer, which made him laugh. He wasn’t leaving. Maybe he would stay for a bit. Stay forever! Mwah-hah-hah!

“My name is Petra Monroe,” I said, offering him my hand. “Everyone calls me Peaches. Peaches Monroe.”

“I'm Dalton Deangelo,” he said.

Our hands connected, flesh on flesh, and something strange happened. A life flash before my eyes, only it wasn't my life. The man standing before me played a bad-boy vampire in a TV series. Drake Cheshire, two hundred years old and forever young. I hadn't recognized him without the pale makeup and contact lenses that made his eyes darker, but every tingling nerve in my body confirmed it was him.

I was shaking hands with the man Shayla referred to as Meatflaps Moistener. She’d named her vibrator Drake Cheshire. Truth be told, I would have too, if I was fun enough to own one.

My mouth filled with water, and the bookstore went dim, like someone had shut off the lights. My consciousness closed to a pinhole, and the only thing keeping me from fainting was the warm sensation of Dalton's hand on mine.

Through the fog, I heard his voice, saying, “Why isn't your date picking you up for the wedding?”

Swallowing hard, I swam back to reality. “I don't have a date. Or a boyfriend.”

Oh, those eyes! That face! Those biceps. I couldn't see them through his shirt, but I'd seen them on TV a hundred times, because they always found an excuse for Drake to be shirtless and emotional.

“You shouldn't have to go to a wedding dateless,” he said.

“I do most everything dateless, so I'll probably survive.”

“I have an idea.” He grabbed the pens on the counter and stacked them into the pen holder. “You won't have to go alone, because I'll arrange for a date for you. That is, if it's not too late to add a plus-one. I wouldn't want to foul up the seating arrangements.”

“Oh, Drake—um, Mr. Deangelo, I couldn't ask you to do that. You probably have a very busy life and lots of things to do tonight.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Me? Oh, no. I was going to send my butler. He's very cute from the eyebrows up. Completely g*y, of course, but he'll look nice in the photos.”

I crossed my arms. “Your butler?” What the Fudgeeo cookies was this shit?

He laughed. “I knew it! You're even more adorable when you're angry. Oh, Peaches. I'm sorry I said such a thing. Can you forgive me?”

I backed away. “You know, I have to keep my eyes open.”

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