He grabs his discarded jacket from a nearby shelf, then sweeps his hand toward the front of the shop and simply says, “After you.”
We walk side-by-side through the slim aisles, pausing here and there to look at the various titles on other shelves.
“So, Aurora. Thane tells me you’re new in town. How are you finding our little slice of Appalachia?”
“I’ve only been here about three weeks, and I’m enjoying it so far. I needed to get away and try something new. When Eve offered me a job, I packed everything up, bought my cottage, and, well, here I am. This area is a little strange, though. The energy is kind of off, and I feel like sometimes there are things watching me from the woods. It doesn’t feel threatening, just weird.”
The words unwillingly tumble from my mouth, along with a soft, nervous laugh. No one has ever made my brain feel this muddled before. It’s confusing and disarming.
Ezra hums, the sound deep and deliberate, vibrating like his thoughts are trying to speak directly to my body.
“You’re perceptive, Aurora. Not many are.” He tilts his head, watching me too closely. “Lorewood is … different. Strange things linger here. Strange people, too.”
The charm drops from his voice, replaced with something sharper. More teeth than smile.
“If your gut ever warns you? Listen.”
Before I can respond, he leans in—close enough that I feel the cool whisper of his breath against my ear.
Control yourself, Aurora.
I breathe him in—cinnamon and pine, warm and crisp and entirely him.
My face heats as his knuckles gently skim along my cheek.
When I open my eyes, I’m caught by storm-dark irises that remind me of the deepest parts of the ocean.
I can’t look away.
His fingers trail down the side of my neck, slow enough to watch the way my skin flushes under his touch.
Then lower—drifting across my collarbone with an almost clinical fascination, cataloging every reaction.
The tension sharpens between us, stretching tighter with every breath, until it presses in from all sides.
I break it first.
“So, where do you keep the science fiction?”
The words spill out before I can stop them, my brain scrambling to catch up.
Ezra chuckles, drops his hand, then tips his head toward an aisle a few rows down.
I move in that direction, forcing slow, steady breaths as I go.
Once I’m sure he’s not watching, I lift my hand and follow the trail his fingers left behind.
Did that really just happen? Again?
The shelves are lined with paperbacks, most of which I’ve already read. The titles blur as my eyes skim past them. I’m not really looking. I’m stalling. Waiting. Wondering what he’ll do next.
While I browse, Ezra’s deep, playful voice drifts through the shop.
“What do you do for fun, Aurora? Besides read, of course, and judge the literary tastes of strangers.”
Heat blooms across my face once again.
Sure, I’m embarrassed by my misjudgment of him, but I’m done with this nervous little mouse bullshit, even if he makes my nerves prick with static and ice.
