Home > Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(3)

Stardust (Peaches Monroe #1)(3)
Author: Mimi Strong

“And?”

“My eyes are open, and I think I should get a taxi.”

His head hung, and he took a few more steps back, moving toward the door.

“I guess I was being foolish,” he said. “It's just that I was back there, in your washroom, and you had all those beautiful engravings back there, with the poems and inspirations. And I've only been inside this bookstore for a few minutes, really, but I've never felt so warm and welcome, and I don't think it's the books or the funny little Buddha statue over there, or the Chinese good luck cat, but I think it's you. It's you, Peaches. You're surrounded by light and goodness, and I want to bask in your aura, be in your presence. So, I'm going to ask you, formally and properly, like I should have in the first place. Peaches, can I take you on a date? I'd love to go to this wedding and be your date, or if that's too bold, maybe we can get a coffee tomorrow?”

Eyes open. Eyes open.

Yes, my eyes were open, and my brain was working, saying go ahead.

“Fine,” I said. “You can be my date for the wedding. You'll be bored to tears within an hour, and you can duck out early if you'd like.”

“And do what?”

“Let's just start with the wedding.”

He clapped his hands together. “Great. Shall I pop out and get a gift, or do you have that covered?”

Just then, the door jingled open and my employee, Amy, came running in, apologizing for being late. The fair-skinned girl with bright blue hair ran around the counter, tossed her purse next to mine, looked up at Dalton Deangelo, screamed, and fainted into my arms.

As I waved my hands over young Amy's small face, trying to revive her, I was struck by how unfair the whole thing was. I'd certainly never fainted before, because that was something a fun person did.

Dalton ran back to the washroom, then returned and handed me a glass of water. I tossed it on Amy's face. Amy gasped and opened her eyes.

Dalton started to laugh. “That was for her to drink. Peaches, you’re wild!”

Amy wasn't as light as she looked, so I groaned as I eased her down to the floor. “Well, it worked, didn't it?”

“Don't hit me, Boss,” Amy said, pretending to cower, a strand of her blue hair stuck to her wet face.

Dalton reached down and helped Amy to her feet, grinning madly. “Miss, has she been abusing you? Perhaps there's a union you could join.”

Her brown eyes bugging out under her pale blond eyebrows, Amy gawked at Dalton, then me, then Dalton, then me again. “Is this really happening? Is Drake the vampire in our bookstore?”

“Not for long,” he said. “I'm taking Peaches to the wedding. I trust you'll be able to manage without her? We straightened out all the pens in the tin can already, so you should be set.”

Amy gave me a quizzical look. With one hand along the side of her dripping-wet face, she whispered to me, “Do you two know each other?”

“Not really—”

Dalton interrupted. “We're future old friends.”

Amy said to me, “He's very pushy. I've read that in interviews. This is just how he is.” She turned to Dalton and smiled. “I follow you online.”

He pulled an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the water drops on her face.

“You follow my publicist,” he said, giving her a sly wink.

Amy, who was sixteen, but texted and tweeted like she was thirteen, gasped in horror.

I said, “Ah, the sweet sound of scales falling from a young person's eyes.”

Dalton cocked his head and asked me, “Young person? How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. But I've seen things.”

“Sure you have. But have you done things?”

“A couple things.”

“Good!” He tucked away the handkerchief and offered me his elbow. “I’m only into dating girls who’ve done a couple things.”

“Dating? I thought we were future old friends.”

“This is how we get there,” he said as he led me toward the front door.

I hesitated, looking back at a damp Amy, standing in my favorite comfortable spot behind the counter, near the yellow vintage phone. Behind her stood piles of special order books with customer tags sticking out like multi-colored paper tongues.

I turned my head to the left and looked over all my shelves, packed tight yet organized, far enough apart that one customer could walk past another without bumping butts, yet close enough to encourage friendly conversation. High above, one of the ferns looked like it needed some water, but I didn't dare ask Amy to do that job, as she tended to daze out and flood the shelves when given a watering can.

The bookstore was my whole life, set up just how I liked it. Sometimes in the evening, after we were closed and the lights were dimmed, I found it difficult to leave the space. I'd stay behind and watch the traffic on the rainy street outside, as people walked back and forth, going to Java Jones or DeNirro’s, unaware of me, sitting in the dark.

Dalton pulled open the front door, and the sounds of the world came in. He'd probably get a phone call and make some excuse before we were half-way there, and I'd be going to the wedding alone. I'd had other men make big promises before, and it always started like this: the grand, spontaneous gesture. The excuses kicked in later.

My eyes were wide open.

Dalton turned to me, his beautiful green eyes bright with promise. “Let's have some fun.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear. “Fun,” I agreed, and I walked ahead of him out the door.

“What is it about bridesmaids?” he asked as soon as we were outside.

I laughed. “Maybe it's our association with the bride, all dressed in white and virtuous.”

He held out his arm for me to hold his elbow, like a gentleman. “You, Peaches Monroe, are looking quite virtuous yourself. That pretty dress with all the ruffles. You're so clean and nice, you give me bad thoughts.”

I laughed, harder this time. “Wow. You don't waste any time. You just say whatever you want, don't you?”

He grinned. “I suspect I've met my match in you.”

“Are you always like this? I feel like I've known you for years, but I've been watching you on TV. You don't know me, though, but you seem pretty comfortable.”

“My car's this way,” he said, pulling me to the right. “And who's to say I don't already know you? Maybe we share a common past.”

“I think I'd remember that.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at me. Really look at me. With those gorgeous green eyes, set in that achingly handsome face.

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