Chapter 7 #2
I grin at the words no one speaks, my eyes darting between the three of them. “Shall we keep going?”
Aurora’s sigh is long-suffering as she looks at me.
“Let’s split up and talk to these shops,” she says with a nod at the businesses lining the square.
“Ask them if they’d be interested in setting up a stall, explain about the marketing packages we offer for our event advertisements, so on and so forth. ”
“We’ll head this direction,” Bart says, nodding at the little row of treat shops. Aurora shrugs.
“That’s fine,” she says, and without another word, she turns in the opposite direction. “Are you coming?” she says without looking back.
“You remembered me,” I say as I catch up to her in one stride. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” she says. “I can just tell you need direction or you’ll stand in one place all day.”
“Is that any way to talk to your direct superior?” I say, falling in step next to her. “Is that how you address the nepo baby who’s been dropped into this position with no real qualifications?”
She snorts. “Baby is right. How old are you?”
“Old enough,” I murmur as I look at her, and when she raises her brow at me, a smile tugs over my lips. “Guess.”
“I am supremely uninterested in guessing anything about you.”
“Not even why I was in the holding cell?”
“Nope,” she says, the little liar. She reaches up and tightens her ponytail.
“Suit yourself,” I say with a shrug, but I’m still smiling.
I’m younger than Aurora by five years. And while I never knew I had a thing for older women, it’s becoming rapidly apparent that I do.
Or maybe just this older woman. I want to pull her ponytail loose. I want to push her buttons until she turns into the dragon I can see beneath her calm, cool surface.
Do I want to marry her? No. I don’t want to marry anyone, probably ever. My parents’ marriage convinced me of that, and I don’t think a woman exists who could change my mind.
But the fun I could have with Aurora Marigold?
The kind of woman with the confidence to brush the lint off her ex’s suit, a woman with nothing but threats and disdain for me, a woman who despite her pride is reasonable and practical enough to request a second job and then take absurd advantage when it’s offered…
I would thoroughly enjoy my time with her. I will enjoy it.
We make our way down the row of shops until we reach one with a cheerful display window.
The door is white, but the paint is faded and chipped around the edges, giving it a well-loved look.
Aurora doesn’t stop or hesitate before pulling on the curled brass handle; the door lurches open, and she slips inside without holding it for me.
The bell jingles overhead as we step into a fairy-like shop full of cozy decor and twinkle lights. There are rows and rows of bookshelves, tall ones against the walls and lower ones in the middle.
“Aurora!” a female voice calls from behind the counter, and a blonde girl steps out and comes to greet us. “Hey! It’s been a while. How’s it going?”
Aurora clears her throat, and I’m intrigued to see a faint flush rising in her neck. “It’s good,” she says, her voice steady despite the pink in her cheeks. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” the girl says cheerfully. Then she looks at me, her gaze climbing all the way up until it meets mine. “Hi,” she says as her eyes widen. She gestures vaguely around the shop. “Can I interest you in a romance novel?”
“Absolutely.”
“No,” Aurora corrects me. “No. Sorry, Jess.” Her voice is firm, and I find my smile widening.
“I’ll just have a look around while you two talk,” I say. “Please don’t mind me.”
“So how’s the book club going?” Jess says to Aurora as I drift away, my eyes dropping to the shelves full of books.
“Uh, it’s fine, I guess?” Aurora says, her voice distracted. I can feel her watching me, but I don’t look at her. I trail my finger over the spines of the novels I pass, checking to see if there’s anything that interests me.
Anything other than the woman whose eyes are drilling holes into the back of my head, that is.
“What are you all reading now?” Jess says. “Jules was in here the other day, but I wasn’t the one who rang her up.”
And I listen as hard as I can. I listen like my life depends on it.
Because it seems to me that all the books I see are romances, and if Aurora Marigold is reading romances in her spare time, I want to know.
I want to read everything she’s reading, just to get a peek at what’s going on inside her head.
But her answer isn’t what I expect. “We’re actually reading one of Luca’s choices right now,” she says in a normal voice. “And he has better taste than Juliet, so I’m happy.”
Luca…that name rings a bell. He might have been mentioned in the holding cell. A brother, maybe? Or a boyfriend?
Why didn’t I pay more attention while I was half-asleep, half-drunk on that concrete floor?
“Anyway, I actually came to talk to you about an event we’re hosting in the square,” Aurora goes on, and once again her tone shifts into something more businesslike.
I weave through the shelves as she and the employee chat for a while, stopping when I find a title that sounds interesting.
I pull the book out and hang back until the two of them are done talking, and then I take the novel up to the front.
“I’d like to buy this, please,” I say, holding it out.
Aurora and the girl—Jess?—blink at me. I raise my brows when neither of them respond, and then Jess jumps into action.
“Right,” she says. “Sorry. Yeah. Hang on.”
She hurries to the counter and rounds it, holding out her hand for the book and tapping around at the cash register.
“A Gargoyle’s Love Affair,” Aurora reads in a bland voice as the book is slipped into a plastic bag and then handed to me.
“I can appreciate romance,” I say with a shrug. “And I have some logistical questions I need answered.”
She gives a little shudder. “I fear you and Felix would get along frighteningly well. The one who came to pick us up, if you remember.”
“Only faintly,” I say. “But I bet I could win him over.”
“He’s easy to win over,” she says with a grudging nod. “But Cyrus would hate you.”
“I could win him over too,” I say as we pass out of the shop and back into the square.
“No,” she says, a genuine smile flitting briefly over her lips. “I don’t think you could.”
I shrug and glance around, searching for Bart and Mindy. “That’s fine,” I say. “If I needed I could just buy him off.”
When I get no response from Aurora, I turn to look at her, only to find a surprised expression on her face.
I shrug and rest my hands back in my pockets, the plastic bag still dangling from my arm.
“What?” I say, tilting my head and taking a step closer.
“Scandalized? Shocked? But it’s true.” My gaze darts over her face.
“For the right cause, I’d be willing to buy someone off.
” I’m only partly joking—and when I go on, I’m totally serious. “Most people have a price.”
Her brows jump, her eyes tinged with distaste. “That’s…an interesting viewpoint.”
“Is it?” I say. “A little cynical, maybe. But we live in a world of give and take. Nothing is guaranteed to be free. The key is knowing what things are worth buying and what things aren’t.
” I nod at the question in her gaze. “If you have to pay with your dignity or your honor, it’s probably not worth it.
But other things?” I shrug. “You can’t write them off. ”
I hesitate briefly and then speak again, wondering even as my mouth opens whether I’m telling her something I shouldn’t.
“My father started a matchmaking company—this matchmaking company. But he was never loyal to my mother. And to keep his image clean, to convince her to remain married, he paid not in money but in jewelry and handbags and empty promises. She died married to a man she barely knew and didn’t love.
Was it worth it? Was their transaction worth it? ”
Aurora continues to look at me, but the shock in her features is gone. I’m strangely relieved to notice no pity there, either.
“When Bart and Mindy began their tête à tête, you weighed the upcoming transaction,” I say.
I jerk my chin at Bart and Mindy, who have just come out of the ice cream shop with matching ice cream cones.
“Were you willing to pay the cost of your pride and your feelings in order to keep a relationship that, by all appearances, profited you nothing?”
“He was a great kisser,” Aurora says now, holding up her nails and inspecting them casually.
I can’t stop my laugh at this. “Whatever you say.” My eyes drop to her lips. “But there are better kissers out there.”
She hums. “I think you’re too young to know anything about that,” she says in a stern voice as her hands drop back to her sides.
“You might be surprised,” I say without thinking.
A beat of silence that lasts only a second, and then she goes on, “We’re wasting time with your sentimental babbling.” She brushes past me and heads toward the shop next door, never looking back.
My smile doesn’t fade. Her words aren’t complimentary, but they’re exactly what the conversation needs: a clear, direct change of subject.
I didn’t particularly mean to hop on that soapbox—or mention kissing—and I might regret mentioning my father, but what’s done is done. So I just follow along in her wake, interested to see more of Aurora Marigold in her natural habitat.