It was one of those quiet mornings where the rain came in mist instead of thunder. Ava had just opened the bookstore and was restocking a shelf in the travel section when the bell jingled above the door.
She didn't look up. Probably a regular. Miriam had said Thursdays were slow.
"Excuse me," a warm voice called from the front. "Any chance you've got something that explains why everyone in this town is so nice it's suspicious?"
Ava turned.
The man standing near the counter was all easy charm and weather-worn edges dark hair tousled from the wind, boots caked in dried mud, a backpack slung over one shoulder. His jacket was damp from the drizzle, but he didn't seem bothered. If anything, he looked… amused. Or maybe just amused by her.
"Sorry," Ava said, dry. "We don't carry self-help guides for big city paranoia."
His smile widened. "Shame. That would've been a bestseller."
He stepped further inside, scanning the shelves like he was trying to soak the place in all at once. "This place is incredible," he said, not to her, but like he meant it. "It smells like memories and coffee stains."
Ava couldn't help it she raised a brow. "You're a poet or a tourist."
"Guilty on both counts," he said with a wink. "Max Grayson. I'm here doing research for my next book."
She didn't offer her name. Didn't need to.
"Let me guess," he continued. "You're the stern gatekeeper of all this literary treasure?"
"Something like that."
Max wandered over to the shelf she'd been working on. "You know," he said, holding up a book with a faded lighthouse on the cover, "I've been all over the world, and I still think coastal towns have the best secrets. Especially ones with bookstores like this."
Ava crossed her arms. "And what kind of secrets are you hoping to uncover?"
"The best kind," he said. "The quiet ones people don't realize they're still carrying."
She didn't respond, but he caught the flicker in her eyes. He tilted his head slightly, like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.
Instead, he set the book down gently and gave a small wave. "Nice to meet you, Keeper of the Books. I'll be back."
Ava watched him go, the door swinging shut behind him.
The bookstore was silent again, save for the soft purring of the cat in the window.
She turned back to her stack of books, but her fingers paused on the spine of the one Max had touched. She pulled it free and opened it to a random page.
There, in faint pencil, was a line someone had underlined:
Some things are worth the risk, even if they leave a mark.
Ava closed the book carefully and placed it back on the shelf. She told herself it was nothing.
But she'd seen that look in Max's eyes. He wasn't just passing through.
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