brushed his as they reached for the same book. Her gaze shot up to meet him in a way that had his stomach knotting. Clearly, she’d felt that sharp electric spark, too.
“Sorry,” she muttered, ducking her head. “You go ahead.”
“No, you go.” He gestured for her to slide the book out from between its shelf mates.
How was this whole scene so romantically charged? It was dark and cool and a little musty, but Ronan felt like he was in the basement of some castle, with a woman tempting as all sin tucked right beside him. The smell of her—like flowers and fresh air—mingled with the scent of old books and wood, and he had the very real vision of pushing her against the heaving shelves and kissing her senseless. Of pushing that pretty dress up her thighs and—
Hell fucking no. What’s wrong with you?
Audrey was still looking at him, green eyes almost engulfed by black. Nostrils flaring a little. Her teeth dented her lower lip, and her breath skipped like a needle on a scratched-up record.
“So…you’ve lived here your whole life?” It was small-talk drivel, but that was better than having his mind run wild with fantasies.
“In the bookstore?” She smirked before turning to hook her finger into the spine of the book, sliding out to inspect the blurb on the back cover.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I’m a Kissing Creek resident from birth.” There was a note of something dark in her reply, like she wasn’t proud of admitting it. “Pink, white, and red runs in my blood. Why did you come here? I can’t imagine Harrison Beech is high up on any professor’s list of desirable colleges to teach at.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’re close enough to Boston that most people move away, but not so close that we feel like we’re part of the city,” she said with a shrug. To some people, it might have sounded like a negative, but Audrey stated it as though it was simply fact. “And the average age might be mid-thirties, but don’t be fooled. There are hardly any people here who are that age; it’s simply an average of college students and retirees.”
“What about you?”
She looked up, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Isn’t it rude to ask a woman her age?”
“You brought up the topic,” he replied.
“I’m twenty-six, and my birthday is at the end of the year.”
He grinned. “Does that make you a Pisces?”
Audrey smirked. “Nice try, but Pisces is mid-February to March. Is that the only star sign you know?”
Busted. “Yeah. I was more curious to see if you knew about it, since you’re such a collector of knowledge.”
“I know about the star signs because we have books and astrological charts in the shop. For the record, I’m a Capricorn.”
She replaced the book on the shelf and wandered ahead of him, her hips shifting as she maneuvered around a stack of leather-bound tomes that came up to her waist.
“What does that mean for the uninitiated?” he asked.
“I’m stubborn, persistent, practical, and a realist. Arguably the most boring of all the star signs, in my humble opinion. Well, all the earth signs get that unfair label, I guess.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “That sounded like complete gibberish to you, didn’t it?”
“Total gibberish.” And yet, Ronan found himself once again impossibly fascinated. “What star sign would you rather be?”
“Leo maybe…but with less ego. Ooh, no, Scorpio. I want to be moody and mysterious and passionate.” She grinned. “Highly unpractical and a little bit of a loose cannon.”
“Ah, but you’re much too sensible for that.” Anybody could see it—Audrey was diligent and hardworking, and she took responsibility for her actions.
She might call it boring, but Ronan admired those traits. Who knew what his life might have been like if his parents had embodied a bit more responsibility?
Audrey laughed. “I’m afraid I am. Comes with the territory.”
“And what territory is that?”
She blinked, the amusement in her expression evaporating and leaving behind something else. “Just my life.”
“Being a barista and hawking spiritual wares?” He shouldn’t prod; it was none of his business. But he wanted to know everything there was to know about Audrey, the mysterious girl with the beguiling smile.
“Putting food on the table for my siblings.” Her gaze never left his, almost as if she wanted to gauge his reaction. Suddenly it all made sense—not studying toward anything because that was too much commitment, and the two jobs she seemed to enjoy but wasn’t excited about. “Playing mom doesn’t lend