Page 1 of Edge
1
CALLIE
The wind chimes above the door jingled as the last customer slipped out of Bookshell Cove. I leaned against the counter, letting out a slow breath as I scanned the shop. Stacks of paperbacks waited to be reshelved, and the display table near the front leaned a little too heavily toward beach reads, but the clutter gave the place charm. My aunt liked to say the shop had personality, though I suspected she was just better at embracing chaos than I was.
I crouched to pick up a stray hardcover, smoothing the glossy jacket before tucking it onto the shelf. My parents would’ve sighed and shaken their heads at me happily finishing my first week at my new job. When I finished my associate’s degree, they wanted me to transfer to one of Florida’s universities to complete my bachelor’s. Maybe even go on to graduate school after that.
But two years of attending classes at the campus only ten minutes from home had taught me an important lesson—college wasn’t for me.
While my parents had lost their minds over my decision, my aunt had offered me the perfect out. A full-time job ather bookstore in Crossbend, pretty much as far away from my hometown as I could get without leaving Florida.
I’d expected to regret the move but strangely didn’t. At least not yet.
“Still here?” Aunt Gloria’s voice floated from the back office. A moment later, she appeared, eyeing me with a smile that held a mixture of affection and exasperation. “You don’t have to make the place sparkle every night, Callie. Lock up and go enjoy yourself.”
“I like it this way.” It felt good to fuss over the shelves, like I was straightening out the jumbled mess in my own head. “Besides, you know I don’t exactly have big Friday night plans.”
She gave me a pointed look. “Not yet. You’ve only been here two weeks. Give our little town a proper chance. You’ll make friends.”
“I will.” I forced a smile, hoping she couldn’t see the pinch of doubt behind it. Crossbend was beautiful, but I wasn’t sure where I fit here yet.
“Careful on your ride home.” Aunt Gloria reminded me as she grabbed her purse. “That stretch past The Drift Café gets crowded in the evening.”
“I’ll be fine.” My bike was locked up out back, and the apartment I rented was only a few blocks away. Close enough that I could pretend I lived in one of those seaside towns from the books I stacked every day.
Before I followed her out, I flipped the sign to Closed and locked the door, my reflection faint in the glass. I felt a sense of accomplishment since the panes had been too dusty to see through when I arrived, but now they gleamed since I’d thoroughly cleaned them. Twice.
I pasted a smile back on my face, determined to make it work here—even though I wasn’t sure how I’d do that yet.
The evening air wrapped around me like a warm blanket as I waved goodbye to my aunt. I undid the kickstand and balanced my tote on the handlebars, the corner of a paper sack poking out with a leftover sandwich Aunt Gloria had insisted I take home with me. I wheeled my bike from the alley behind Bookshell Cove.
The sun had dipped low, streaking the horizon with coral and violet, and the first streetlights buzzed to life one by one. Crossbend took on a different kind of magic at sunset. Softer. And nothing like the city I’d grown up in, where traffic snarled long into the night.
Here, the breeze carried the scent of saltwater, and laughter drifted from the café a block over. Neon signs flickered above doorways, casting colorful glows that reflected off shop windows. It was almost like living inside a postcard.
After swinging my leg over the seat, I pedaled slowly and let myself relax into the rhythm. The steady turn of the wheels eased the last of the day’s tension from my shoulders.
Unfortunately, I was a little too relaxed when a flash of movement darted across the street. My breath caught as I yanked the handlebars hard to the right. A raccoon crossed the bike lane, right in front of me. It bolted away and down the alley next to The Drift Café but not quickly enough to save me.
The tires skidded, and my tote slipped sideways, the paper sack tumbling free as I fought for balance. Time slowed, stretching every panicked heartbeat as the bike tilted beneath me. I let out a startled yelp, then went down hard on my side, my palms scraping against rough pavement.
The impact knocked the wind out of me. I lay there for a second, dazed, before forcing myself upright. My knee throbbed, and I hissed when I saw the thin scrape on my hand. It wasn’t bad, just enough to sting a little. There wasn’t even any blood.
I was grateful to come out of the crash relatively unscathed when my gaze lifted…and my stomach dropped.
My poor bike had toppled against the side of a motorcycle. And not an inexpensive one from the look of it.
The motorcycle was a beast, crouched low and gleaming under the glow of the streetlight. Chrome caught the fading sun, while the body was painted a deep matte black. It had wide tires, polished pipes, and a leather seat that looked worn in by one rider alone.
A chrome Harley logo shone boldly against the dark tank, but I’d never seen anything like this motorcycle before. It radiated danger—sleek and beautiful in a way that made my pulse skip.
“Oh no,” I whispered, fumbling to upright my bike, as though somehow I could erase the damage before anyone noticed.
My tote had spilled open, a paperback lying face down in the gutter, pages bent. My sandwich was probably ruined, but that was the least of my worries.
Someone had poured their soul into the motorcycle my bike had fallen against. And they were bound to be furious if I damaged it.
The bell over the café door jingled as it creaked open, and a prickle ran down my spine. With my luck, it was the owner of the motorcycle coming out to confront me.
