We Are Made of Stardust - Peaches Monroe #1 Read Free

manage without her? We straightened out all the pens in the tin can already, so you should be set.”
    Amy gave me a quizzical look. With one hand along the side of her dripping-wet face, she whispered to me, “Do you two know each other?”
    “Not really—”
    Dalton interrupted. “We're future old friends.”
    Amy said to me, “He's very pushy. I've read that in interviews. This is just how he is.” She turned to Dalton and smiled. “I follow you online.”
    He pulled an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the water drops on her face.
    “You follow my publicist,” he said, giving her a sly wink.
    Amy, who was sixteen, but texted and tweeted like she was thirteen, gasped in horror.
    I said, “Ah, the sweet sound of scales falling from a young person's eyes.”
    Dalton cocked his head and asked me, “Young person? How old are you?”
    “Twenty-two. But I've seen things.”
    “Sure you have. But have you done things?”
    “A couple things.”
    “Good!” He tucked away the handkerchief and offered me his elbow. “I’m only into dating girls who’ve done a couple things.”
    “Dating? I thought we were future old friends.”
    “This is how we get there,” he said as he led me toward the front door.
    I hesitated, looking back at a damp Amy, standing in my favorite comfortable spot behind the counter, near the yellow vintage phone. Behind her stood piles of special order books with customer tags sticking out like multi-colored paper tongues.
    I turned my head to the left and looked over all my shelves, packed tight yet organized, far enough apart that one customer could walk past another without bumping butts, yet close enough to encourage friendly conversation. High above, one of the ferns looked like it needed some water, but I didn't dare ask Amy to do that job, as she tended to daze out and flood the shelves when given a watering can.
    The bookstore was my whole life, set up just how I liked it. Sometimes in the evening, after we were closed and the lights were dimmed, I found it difficult to leave the space. I'd stay behind and watch the traffic on the rainy street outside, as people walked back and forth, going to Java Jones or DeNirro’s, unaware of me, sitting in the dark.
    Dalton pulled open the front door, and the sounds of the world came in. He'd probably get a phone call and make some excuse before we were half-way there, and I'd be going to the wedding alone. I'd had other men make big promises before, and it always started like this: the grand, spontaneous gesture. The excuses kicked in later.
    My eyes were wide open.
    Dalton turned to me, his beautiful green eyes bright with promise. “Let's have some fun.”
    It was exactly what I needed to hear. “Fun,” I agreed, and I walked ahead of him out the door.
    “What is it about bridesmaids?” he asked as soon as we were outside.
    I laughed. “Maybe it's our association with the bride, all dressed in white and virtuous.”
    He held out his arm for me to hold his elbow, like a gentleman. “You, Peaches Monroe, are looking quite virtuous yourself. That pretty dress with all the ruffles. You're so clean and nice, you give me bad thoughts.”
    I laughed, harder this time. “Wow. You don't waste any time. You just say whatever you want, don't you?”
    He grinned. “I suspect I've met my match in you.”
    “Are you always like this? I feel like I've known you for years, but I've been watching you on TV. You don't know me, though, but you seem pretty comfortable.”
    “My car's this way,” he said, pulling me to the right. “And who's to say I don't already know you? Maybe we share a common past.”
    “I think I'd remember that.”
    He stopped walking and turned to look at me. Really look at me. With those gorgeous green eyes, set in that achingly handsome face.
    I started to worry he was going to kiss me. Or not kiss me. Either way, I was in big trouble.
    He looked down my body, along my fluffy bridesmaid gown, like he was