My Boss's Secret: A Small Town Romantic Comedy (Kensington Square Book 2) by Taryn Quinn

Author:Taryn Quinn [Quinn, Taryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainbow Rage Publishing
Published: 2021-10-26T18:30:00+00:00

Sixteen

What was I doing?

There was always a piece of Ryan and Luna that I never could quite reach. Maybe I never wanted to. I liked logic and order and their…faith? I wasn’t sure that was the right word for it, but it was as good as any. I didn’t understand their draw toward divination, herbs, and crystals.

Crystals were one thing. It was mineral and stone—pieces of the earth compressed to make something beautiful. They only had as much power as you gave to them.

At least that was the way Ryan always explained things.

But traveling to Moonstone & Obsidian’s storefront was a whole different thing. I couldn’t even say I knew how I got there. The winding roads between Kensington Square and Luna Falls were like driving in Boston without any street signs.

Streets didn’t make sense and turns chopped off into dead ends or one way signs, rerouting the Jeep so many times I lost count.

Even the crisp fall day had turned foggy the closer we got to the town limits. Not that there were signs—at all. But suddenly, the wisps of silky fog dissipated as quickly as they formed and the sun was bright and bold as it had been when we left my house.

We pulled in the small parking lot beside the whitewashed building with a jet black tin roof and matching shutters. The door was an earthy red with dents and nicks in the wood, as if it had been pushed open by a thousand hands in one thousand years.

I blinked.

Since when had I ever been so fanciful?

We parked and Ryan hustled me across the gravel lot and through the door. A chime announced our arrival. Luna slipped around me and rushed to the crush of bookshelves that made up the vestibule. They weren’t regular shelves.

It was as if each shelf was bolted into another haphazardly in different sizes, thicknesses of woods, and add-ons. Crooked skinny shelves held small satchels and palm sized notebooks, then the next shelf would be taller to hold oversized books. Some were ancient—as in should probably be behind glass, old—and others were as modern as a best seller’s list, and everything in between.

Again, it seemed fanciful to think that way, but this place was otherworldly in a way I couldn’t describe. Even the air felt different.

The deeper we got into the vestibule, the more the books aged. An earthy green cabinet with pristine glass filled one corner. A lock that would probably fit in a Tolkien movie seemed to keep them apart from the rest of us.

Dark leather tomes without names on the spines were tucked in shadows. On the other side of the space, a bean bag chair was stuffed into a corner with a pile of books piled on a tiny end table that seemed barely strong enough for a teacup.

The whole space was alien and yet invited you in and said it would be okay to sit there and read a book without purchasing it. I trailed my fingertips along the spines.

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