So, this is Ezra Aster.
He’s tall in the way fictional men are tall. The kind of tall that makes you reevaluate your stance on public indecency. Jet-black hair that’s long on top, short on the sides, and styled like he communes with the forgotten god of volume every morning.
And that suit? Definitely custom. Definitely a problem.
He’s got a leather messenger bag slung across his chest, like some dangerously hot professor who teaches Gothic literature by day and bodies you against theNorton Anthologyby night.
And those unwavering grey eyes? They make me feel butt-ass naked in broad daylight.
Ezra cocks his head, mirth sparking behind his gaze. “Hello, miss? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
His smile sharpens into something wicked, and that’s when I realize.Fuck. I’ve been silently staring at this god of a man for way too long.
“Um, hi,” I say, unable to tear myself away from his darkening grey eyes.
Finally, one brave brain cell drags me out of my horny paralysis and reminds me how to human.
“Uh, yeah, I’m okay, thank you. No ghosts here, just trying to find the right key so I can open the shop. Heh.”
So fucking smooth, Aurora.
I turn my back to him, but I’m so flustered that I can’t even concentrate on the shit-ton of keys in my hand. I just stand there like a fool staring at the lock.
“Would you like some help?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
Why does my heart feel like it’s trying to abandon my chest? Like it’s reaching desperately for him, clawing at the space between us like it knows exactly where it belongs.
“I appreciate the offer, Mr. …”
I know exactly who he is. But his ego is probably big enough to tilt the Earth off its axis. I’m not about to feed it.
“How terribly rude of me! My name is Ezra. Ezra Aster. I own the bookshop just down the hill. I was on my way to work and saw you struggling. I think I can help …” he says and takes another step toward me.
I swear I only heard one step, but pressure creeps up my spine—not heat, not cold. Just … awareness.
Then a breath of chill air ghosts over my neck, and a quiet, muttered curse breaks the silence behind me.
When I turn around, though, he’s still standing on the sidewalk, looking like a misplaced runway model.
Before I can get lost in daydreams of those hands, something flickers at the edge of my vision. A ripple in the air. But gone before I can focus on it.
I blink, trying to shake the strange sensation blooming through my body.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Aster,” I say way too brightly for someone actively squishing through her own seams. “I’m Aurora. You can call me Aury if you want. Most of my friends do. Not that you have to. I mean, it’s just … shorter.”
Oh my god, shut up.
“I was actually talking to my friend Eve about you yesterday. We passed by your shop on our way to The Cardinal, and I mayhave peeked in the window when no one was around. But, like, not in a stalker way or anything. I mean, Eve was there too. Well, across the street. Um, anyway, I’m meeting Thane today to talk about your online store, so … yeah.”
My soul leaves my body. Just walks out. Fucking traitor.
“Aurora.” He says my name like he’s trying to memorize it with his mouth. Like he wants to bury it in his throat and keep it there forever. He takes yet another step toward me, thankfully ignoring my incoherent babbling.
How does this man’s presence make me want to unzip my entire body and disappear into the fucking void?
My hands won’t stop sweating, and my stomach is a churning mess of anxiety. The man from my dream last night now stands less than five feet away from me, wearing a knowing smirk while heat blazes in his unsettling grey eyes.
“Right, well, like I said, you can call me Aury. I appreciate the help, but I think I got it from here. It was very nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you at your shop this afternoon,” I say, trying not to sound too hopeful.
