“Come on.” Audrey ushered her brother and sister toward the back of the house. Oliver immediately disappeared into his room with a scowl. Of all the kids, he was the most sensitive to his father’s outbursts and had a tendency to crawl into his shell. That worried Audrey, but she didn’t have enough fuel left in the tank to deal with it tonight.
“Can you help me with my homework?” Deanna asked.
“I sure can.” She closed the door behind them, and Georgie acknowledged them with a slight raise of her head before rolling over on the bottom bunk to face the wall and continue her speed-of-light texting.
Audrey dropped down onto her bed, which faced the bunk that Georgie and Deanna shared. “Sit here with me. Let’s figure this out.”
“High school work is hard,” Deanna grumbled as she flipped to the algebra section of her math textbook. “I’ll never get this.”
“Yes, you will.” Audrey grabbed her little sister’s face in both hands and forced her to make eye contact. “You will get this because you’re smart and one day you’re going to graduate and fly far away from here, okay?”
“But you’re not going to fly away, are you?” Deanna asked, her blue eyes shimmering with worry. “You’re not going to leave us?”
Audrey put a smile on her face that was so well-practiced, even she might fall for it in the mirror. “I’m not leaving. I promise.”
It was a promise she’d made over and over, and it never failed to make her stomach sink a little every time.
Chapter Four
Ronan was officially lost. Well, not exactly lost in the traditional sense, since he knew he was on Main Street. But he was lost in the sense that he’d ended up here without meaning to. Was Kissing Creek nothing but a circular maze, forever pushing people back to the quaint little row of shops with their pink and red accents? How did all roads come back to this point?
It was like some unwelcome metaphor for the circular nature his life was taking, bringing him back to the US without him feeling like he’d made any progress at all.
Ronan shook off the ugly—and untrue—thought as he paused and looked for the nearest street sign. Perhaps he’d turned left when he should have turned right. For some reason, he’d decided to leave his phone back in his apartment in a personal mindfulness experiment. He did that a lot. Experimenting on himself, setting challenges to test his hypotheses about various things, was how he kept his mind in good shape.
Although admittedly, he’d conducted smarter tests than wandering around an unfamiliar town without his phone.
Deciding to abandon his plans to find the secondhand bookstore that had initially set him out on this journey, Ronan walked along the strip and took note of the businesses lined up like colorful tin soldiers. The town had all the usual suspects—hairdressers and fruit shops and butchers and restaurants of different cuisines. There was an Irish pub and a pet supply store and a beauty salon and a gift store. He’d counted four bakeries so far, each with a different specialty and increasingly cutesy names.
His personal favorite was All You Need is Loaf.
But there was one store that stood out as being unlike the others. Whereas many shop fronts featured bright paint, artfully designed chalkboards, and welcoming slogans, Game of Stones had an imposing black door and a window shrouded with heavy purple velvet. It appeared to be a new age store with tarot cards and crystals. In other words, a store trading on bullshit, at best.
And fraud, at worst.
He’d conducted an experiment for one of his classes at Cambridge in which he’d asked students to read their horoscope before taking a decision-making test. They hadn’t been real horoscopes, of course, and the variance in tone of these messages—ranging from positive to neutral to negative—had greatly impacted the students’ test results. It frustrated him that smart people would allow themselves to be derailed by something that had absolutely no basis in fact or reality.
While he looked into the window display, eyes narrowed at the hunks of amethyst and the splay of ornate golden cards, he caught sight of something that made him pause. Or, rather, someone.
A woman disappeared from behind a counter, blond hair catching the light. Was that…?
Shaking his head, he wrapped his hand around the handle of the door and pushed it open. A chime sounded above his head, and an older woman looked up from behind the cash register. She had long silvery hair that hung in a heavy braid, and her shoulders were wrapped in a colorful shawl. Her fingers were cluttered with rings.
“Ah,” she said as though she had an idea who Ronan was. He’d put money on this being her thing—tricking people into believing she had some psychic powers when it was nothing more than a keen sense of perception. “You’re the new professor.”
He tried to hide his surprise. Wait, was he wearing elbow patches again? Ronan resisted the urge to look down at his outfit. It would hardly be difficult for her to pick him out—Kissing Creek was a small town, and he was clearly too old to be a student. Especially now that his beard had filled in.
“I’m not looking for anyone to read my fortune,” he quipped.
“No? What can I help you with, Professor Walsh?” Her green eyes danced over him.
She knew his name, too? Still, that could be easily explained, since there was an article about him in the local paper, which touched on the book he would be writing during his visiting position.
“If you tell me my birthday and my mother’s name, then I’ll be impressed.” His gaze flicked over the glass cabinet containing all manner of witchy things—candles and pagan-inspired jewelry; books on herbalism, crystal healing, and birth chart interpretation.
“I’m not psychic,” the woman said with a kind smile. “My niece said ‘oh no, that’s Professor Walsh’ before she darted into the back office.”
There was a sound of frustration from a small doorway behind the counter, and a moment later, Audrey appeared with a tight smile on her face. Her blond hair tumbled down around her shoulders.
“Thanks, Aunt Harriet,” she said through gritted teeth. “Way to have a girl’s back.”
Niece? Interesting. Now that he looked closer, he could see the resemblance—wide eyes and ready, dimpled smiles. But Audrey’s aunt had a slim frame and small shoulders swamped by the flowy fabric of her shawl and dress. It gave the appearance of the clothing wearing her rather than the other way around.
Whereas Audrey’s curvy figure was the one in charge of her simple blue dress and cardigan, no doubt about it.
“Why don’t you help the professor, dear?” the other woman said with a sly smile. “Show him those love intuition cards. Maybe he would like a sexual fortune reading?”
“Harriet,” Audrey rasped under her breath, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. “Why don’t you let him decide what he needs?”
“I’ll be out back if you have any questions.” Harriet stuck her hand out toward Ronan, and he took it, a stack of bracelets jangling on her arm as they shook. “Nice to meet you, Professor.”
“It’s Ronan,” he said.
A second later, the woman was gone in a cloud of something densely perfumed. Patchouli. He recognized it from the one time he’d been allowed to set foot in his mother’s art studio in the woods. Maybe that’s why he hated all this hocus-pocus shit…it reminded him of his mother.
“I’m so sorry about that.” Audrey shook her head. “She’s…”
“Unique?”
“Uh yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” She laughed. “Another way would be that the woman doesn’t have a filter and takes great pleasure in mercilessly embarrassing her family members.”
There wasn’t a hint of malice in Audrey’s voice, only warmth and affection. “Are you two close?”
“Very. We don’t always see eye to eye, but I know she has my back…unless there’s an eligible man around, of course.”
“
How do you know I’m eligible?”
Audrey’s gaze automatically flicked down to Ronan’s hand, where, of course, he wore no ring. But she shook her head, pressing a hand to her cheek. “I didn’t mean to say…that’s not…I’m not assuming anything about you. It’s your business, not mine.”
“I am single.” The words popped out before he could fully think through the ramifications.
What ramifications? It’s not like you’re hitting on her or asking her out on a date. There’s no rule that says a professor can’t confirm his relationship status.
And all of that was true. But Ronan knew he wouldn’t be checking himself mentally unless there was some reason for the defense of his actions. Like, say that he found Audrey not only incredibly attractive but entirely intriguing.
He’d had a hell of a time getting through his class last Wednesday night. His eyes gravitated to her as if pulled by a magnetic force. He’d hunted out the details of her, like the way she scribbled notes with a furious curiosity that made him smile. He’d noticed the way she sucked on the inside of her cheek when he’d posed a thought-provoking question in class and how she’d twirled her hair, her gaze drifting toward something that nobody else could see. She got lost in learning. She was enamored by it.
And that only made her more attractive.
“Better keep that on the down low,” Audrey said. “Unless you want women lining up around the block to see if they can snag Kissing Creek’s newest bachelor.”
“I’m not looking for anything but a chance to work.”
“So no sexual fortune reading for you, then?” she teased.
He did not need those words coming out of her mouth—because the only sexual fortune he was interested in involved the woman standing right in front of him, and that was a very, very bad idea. Never mind the fact that he’d woken up with Audrey on his mind the last three nights since he saw her in class.
In fact, one particular dream had taken place at that very desk and rows of empty seats facing him while he took Audrey from—
Ronan coughed as if physically trying to dislodge the thought. “I like your earrings.”
It seemed like the safest thing he could grasp in order to move the conversation on. Audrey’s hand drifted up to her ear. The earrings were made of gold, with delicate wire wrapped around glossy black stones in a way that made them hang and catch the light. The effect was a striking contrast against her lighter hair.
“Thanks. They’re obsidian.”
“And what does obsidian do?” He raised an eyebrow.
“It’s a protective stone that shields against negativity, but it’s also a reminder that every person has lightness and darkness inside them.”
“Do you believe in this stuff?”
She didn’t strike him as the kind of person who put stock in woo-woo things like crystals and The Secret. Maybe she was only working here as a favor to her aunt.
“Do I believe that everyone has a light and dark side? Yeah. Do I think wearing pretty rocks is going to change my destiny? Not so much.” She lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “But people find comfort and security in all kinds of things, so who am I to judge?”
“And where do you find comfort and security?” Ronan asked, leaning against the shop’s glass counter.
She looked a little taken aback by his question. “In knowledge. Books. Actually, obsidian is quite interesting. They used it in Paleolithic times to make arrowheads and other tools, and it’s formed when molten lava cools very quickly.”
“I bet you’d be great at pub trivia,” he said with a laugh. “I’d want you on my team.”
“I’ve never done pub trivia before. Apparently, they have a great one in the next town over, but…I’m always working.” She pressed her hands down on the countertop. “Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come in here to chat your Saturday afternoon away and hear my random thoughts on things.”
Truthfully, he could quite happily listen to Audrey talk about anything all day long. She had the kind of voice that could lure a man out to sea if he didn’t keep his wits about him.
Maybe this is your lack of social network talking.
All his friends were scattered across the world these days, following their research to far-flung places. His closest friend had a teaching post in Sydney, Australia, and the rest of the crew from his Harvard days were in various cities across the U.S., Canada, and Europe.
In Kissing Creek, he knew nobody.
“I could listen to you, actually,” he said, and Audrey’s shy smile lit a flame inside him.
“Is there something specific I can help you with?” she asked, her olive-green eyes looking straight at him. Up close, he could see her irises were speckled with a darker green and gold, and a heavy line of lashes framed the whole beautiful picture. “I’m not an expert in any of these things, but I might be able to point you in the right direction.”
What about help starting over?
Starting over seemed to be his thing. He’d tried to reinvent himself in college, shaking off his unhappy home life and childhood. Then, when Harvard hadn’t fulfilled him, he’d ventured to Cambridge and started building a life there, with even more space between him and the past. But while his work propelled him up in the ranks of his profession, his personal life was…sorely lacking.
And now he was here, in this little college town, with no specific future in sight.
“I’m lost,” he said.
“Lost?” She cocked her head.
Ronan cleared his throat. He needed to get a goddamn grip on himself. He wasn’t some bruised and damaged soul in need of a beautiful woman to fill the cracks in him. He didn’t screw and drink his way through his problems, letting bad decisions override sensible thought. He was better than that. Better than the hedonistic parents who’d birthed him and didn’t want the responsibility that came with it.
“Uh yeah, I came out without my phone, and I was looking for the Second Chance Bookstore, but every street in this town seems to lead back to Main Street.” He raked a hand through his hair and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “It seems I’m perfectly capable of writing a complex thesis but not so great at navigating a few streets.”
“Welcome to Kissing Creek,” she said. “Where none of the streets make sense and everything has a pun for a name. I’m guessing you kept walking along Gertrude Street when you should have turned off at Rose. It’s such a small little street that people often mistake it for a dead end, but it actually goes right through to the other side, and the bookstore is around the corner.”
“Ah, that’s exactly what happened.”
“I could find my way there with my eyes closed. It’s my favorite shop.” She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, which had a pretty gathered waist and buttons all the way up the front. There was a patch on one side where it looked as though a hole had been covered with some embroidery. “I can draw you a map if you’d like?”
“We’re closing!” Harriet poked her head out of the back room. “You can walk him over.”
Audrey’s expression tightened, and then she swung her head back toward her aunt. “What are you talking about? It’s only three-thirty and—”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“But I can—”
“We’re closing early. I’ll count the cash.” Harriet made a shooing motion that caused all the bracelets on her wrists to rattle. “Get out of here.”
For a moment, Audrey didn’t move, and Ronan got the impression there was some nonverbal communication passing back and forth between the two women. Eventually, it appeared Harriet won the silent battle, because Audrey sighed and turned to Ronan, a resigned expression on her face.
“How about I walk you over?” she said. “It looks like we’re closing early after all.”
Chapter Five
Tarot began as a card game and wasn’t orig
inally intended for fortune telling.
Audrey was going to plan a creative form of payback for her aunt over the next few hours. Not that she minded walking in the sunshine with Ronan at all—far, far from it. But that was exactly the point; her aunt was pushing her toward something she wanted but couldn’t have. And while Audrey was intimately familiar with wanting things she couldn’t have, flinging another unrequited desire onto the pile felt particularly cruel.
“So, you’re a barista and a hawker of spiritual wares,” Ronan said as they exited the shop. Audrey paused to flip the sign on the door, signaling that Game of Stones was now closed.
“Hawker of spiritual wares.” She laughed. “I like that.”
“What other hidden talents do you have up your sleeve?”
“I wouldn’t say I have any talents,” Audrey replied. They headed up Main Street, past her aunt’s shop and the delicatessen and the craft store with a garland of rainbow pompoms in the window. “I mean, I make a good coffee, and I’ve been working hard on my latte art. But that’s kind of it.”
“What’s your specialty?”
She tapped a finger to her cheek. “I can do a really cool bird with a feathery tail. Customers like that one. I do a lot of hearts, too.”
“I’ll have to come in again and get one of your specialties.”
Audrey’s stomach did a little somersault at the thought of Ronan coming to the Kisspresso Café specifically to see her.
Not to see you—to get one of your coffees. Just the same as all your other regulars.
Why did he have to be so obnoxiously handsome? It was really very inconvenient. Attending class each week would be a battle of wills to pay attention to what was coming out of his mouth and not how his arm muscles flexed as he scribbled on the whiteboard. Her mind didn’t drift easily—Audrey was as focused as they came—but there was something about the deep timbre of his voice that lulled her into a dreamy pink haze.
Kissing Lessons (Kissing Creek) Page 4
