Playing for Paradise (Spruce Hill #5)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Milo

The first thing I noticed about the woman was the way sunshine from the wall of windows gilded her hair with red and gold.

It was a shade of dark brown that might’ve been unremarkable from across the ballroom if not for the way it gleamed in the light.

Her head was all I could see at that moment, since the rest of her was blocked by a shifting sea of bodies.

The second thing I noticed was that she looked completely removed from everything going on around her.

Utterly alone.

Her gaze was focused downward at something in her hands, either her phone or the brightly colored paper displaying the Comic Con schedule—I’d caught glimpses of both as the crowd seethed between us, cosplayers and regular attendees interrupting my inspection with every passing second.

A big pink flower held a twist of hair back from her face, with the rest tumbling in loose curls over her shoulders.

“Milo, for the love of Valhalla, just go talk to her.”

My head jerked back toward my friend Olivia, who stood behind her table of fan art paintings and prints with her hands on her hips. Even though my comic shop, Dueling Dragons, was decorated with her artwork, I made it a point to purchase something at retail price when she was vending at an event.

It was the least I could do to support my best friend.

She finished cashing out a customer, then scowled as she pointed a purple-tipped finger in my direction and said, “Go. I appreciate your help during the rush, but now it’s time for you to go enjoy yourself, especially if it involves scoring with the rockabilly goddess you’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes. ”

Goddess was the perfect word for the woman shimmering in the sunlight across the room.

Olivia and I had similar tastes in partners, so we’d each played wingman for the other more times than I could count—though usually I was the one running assistance and she was the one to score.

“Liv, I appreciate that, but I’m not here to pick up women.”

Her scathing expression was the only sign she’d heard me over the din echoing across the hall, but before she could reply, my phone vibrated in my hand and I glanced down to see an email from my landlord, Jim.

Sorry, Milo, but a bid for the space next to DD came in just before yours. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. One came in after, too, but you’re second in line.

I swore under my breath, fighting down a wave of disappointment.

Dueling Dragons wasn’t going to make me a millionaire, but business was steady.

From comics to collectibles, board games to dice sets, the store carried something for everyone, especially as traditionally nerdy pastimes experienced a renaissance among younger generations.

Online shopping bit into my margins, since I’d been too preoccupied with the actual store to get my website ready for ordering, but the residents of Spruce Hill were nothing if not loyal to our little town.

If they could patronize a local shop instead of a big corporation, they usually did.

I had just enough space to run some very small event nights in the store, but after my nephew asked to have a birthday party there last summer, I’d started thinking about what I could do with an extra room or two.

The storefront next to Dueling Dragons was vacant for months thanks to some hidden damage from the previous tenant.

It had been home to a cat cafe for just over a year before the owner abruptly moved to Boston.

Apparently, one of the feline residents spent a good deal of time using a particular corner as a litter box.

The resulting smell was bad enough that I waited—too long, unfortunately—before telling my landlord I’d take it.

I allowed myself a moment of perverse pleasure thinking about my new neighbor scrubbing the odor of ammonia from the carpet before realizing Olivia was talking to me.

“—then send her my way, got it?”

“Find your own goddess,” I muttered, but I lifted my hand in a wave as I turned to seek out the woman across the room.

She was gone.

Afew hours later, I sat at a crowded bar in the hotel lobby, swirling the dregs of a Jack and Coke while I considered all the ways my weekend trip to Comic Con could possibly get worse.

It seemed to have hit rock bottom, but I wanted to brace myself just in case.

Loving the subject matter of the event never quite translated into appreciating the crush of bodies around me for so many hours a day.

I considered attending at least one convention a year to be a necessity for my business, but the thought of another day of this made me want to leave right then, even if it meant driving an hour back to Spruce Hill in the darkness of a December night.

I sat there, nursing my drink and wondering if I could get my store website launched soon enough to make up for losing the added square footage, when the soft swish of fabric alerted me to someone by my side.

“Is this seat taken?”

At the soft words, I turned and almost choked on my drink. The woman—my rockabilly goddess—regarded me with huge hazel eyes from mere inches away.

“No,” I replied, more forcefully than intended. When her lips parted in surprise, I continued quickly, “No, I mean, it’s all yours.”

For fuck’s sake. What was wrong with me?

Fortunately, she accepted the coverup with a tiny smile as she slid onto the stool beside me.

Up close, details I couldn’t make out across the crowd were thrown into sharp relief—the dark pink daisy clipped into her hair, the black dress with a swishy skirt boasting a dinosaur in a jeweled pink collar, a tiny floral tattoo peeking out from the neckline along her collarbone.

I forced my gaze upward to the big, loose curls in her hair, the dark lashes framing her eyes, and lastly, that wide, lush mouth, as rose-tinted as the flower in her hair.

Goddess indeed. There was something ethereal about her, a certain air of self-possession, like she knew exactly who she was and would remain unapologetically true to herself, no matter what.

It was sexy as fuck.

When the bartender appeared in front of us, the woman smiled brightly at him and asked, “Could I get a glass of champagne?”

“Celebrating something?” I asked as he turned to pour it for her.

“Just a lifelong dream finally coming to fruition. Will you let me buy you a drink so you can toast with me?” She swiveled her stool toward me as she voiced the question.

I opened my mouth to politely decline, then wondered why I would ever consider refusing this beautiful woman. My weekend might be going to shit, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy a tiny portion of it.

“Sure.”

Her lips curved upward, but it was the delight in her unusual eyes, a swirling mix of browns and golds reminding me of constellations, that captured my attention.

In fact, I was so distracted I almost didn’t see that she had offered me her hand.

When I finally noticed it, her fingers curled slightly before straightening again as I wrapped mine around them.

“I’m Eden,” she murmured.

Eden. Paradise.

I barely stopped myself from repeating it back to her just so I could savor the sound of the word on my tongue.

“This is usually the part where you’d tell me your name.”

I was still holding her hand in mine, still staring at her like a buffoon. Despite my silence, she didn’t laugh or make fun of me, just waited with that tiny smile on her lips. A hot flush crept up my neck.

“Milo. My name is Milo.”

“Nice to meet you, Milo,” Eden said as the bartender set a fresh drink in front of me. She lifted her glass and I raised mine in return. “Cheers.”

“To dreams coming true.”

Our glasses touched with a barely audible clink, then I watched her close her eyes and sip her champagne before I took a drink from my glass.

Her smile fell a little when she set her flute down. “You looked unhappy when I walked up. I’m sorry to rub your nose in my good mood.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just a small hiccup in my plans. Nothing a little celebration won’t soothe,” I assured her.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure, really. Is this your first Comic Con?” I asked, afraid I’d put my foot in my mouth to say something like you’re exquisite or spend the night with me.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, it is. I didn’t realize how big these events are, but I enjoyed wandering through the vendors.”

“Find anything good?”

“I bought this flower clip,” she said, touching the daisy in her hair. “I couldn’t resist, since it matched my dress.”

“It suits you.”

Her eyes went wide. “It does? Why?”

Afraid I was going to blow it entirely, I let out a breath and said, “It’s beautiful and delicate, but bold. Sweet, but it draws the eye and captures your attention.”

Those rosy lips parted in surprise. “I’m not bold.”

“You walked up to a stranger in a crowded bar, Eden.” The shape of her name on my tongue felt sinful and so very right. “I’d say that’s pretty bold.”

“I guess I did,” she agreed, one corner of her mouth tugging upward.

It was like watching her bloom with fresh confidence, as though I’d gifted her with something precious by giving a completely deserved compliment.

We drank, falling into silence side by side, until Eden swiveled toward me again.

Her gaze dropped to the champagne bubbling in her flute, then lifted to me as she smiled.

Something flashed through her eyes, a hint of vulnerability behind the renewed boldness of her expression, a crashing wave that disappeared before I could identify it.

“Are you staying here?” she asked.

I blinked. “At the bar?”

“At the hotel.”

Heat washed over my face. I closed my eyes against the flare of embarrassment and muttered, “Right. The hotel. Yes, I have a room for the weekend.”