The door to the tiny bookstore jingles as he pushes his way inside, the comforting aroma of coffee and pages old and new rushing to greet him. Marie, the older woman who is always stationed at the register, waves to him and he nods his greeting with a tight smile, hoping to avoid conversation this time, and heads straight for the mystery section near the back of the building. It's been a long day, the case he and the boys spent a full week working weighing heavy on his shoulders despite the fact that they caught the guy. The teenage girl that was murdered is still dead, a family is still in shambles, and his chest feels hollow with grief. Losing himself in a fictional world for the night sounds most appealing.
He would probably have an easier time finding the novel he's searching for if he headed to a larger location, like the Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue or St. Mark's bookshop on East 3rd street, but he's been coming to the cozy little independent bookstore for months now and it's always so calming, so quiet, and closer to his apartment – an easy stop on his way home from the precinct. He'd prefer this place over a crowded shop in the middle of the city any day.
"Hey Marie," he calls over the row of shelves to the woman at the register he's grown to know quite well from his frequent visits. "Do you have the new Collette Stryker book in yet?"
He listens to the sound of typing and rustling papers.
"Unfortunately not, honey. But I think they're coming in today."
Richard Castle huffs and rests his head against the worn wood of the shelf. Katherine Beckett's new bestseller had come out last week, but he knows this store tends to receive the newer materials later than the national chain places. Still, he's impatient to get his hands on a copy, to know if the rumors from the fansites are true and she really killed off Collette.
He hopes they're wrong.
"You know," Marie says as she rounds the shelf he's been pouting against. "It's okay if you go to a real bookstore every once in awhile. I would eventually forgive you."
He chuckles at the understanding wink she offers him and shakes his head.
"I can wait a few more days, it's fine."
"I know you must be exhausted, but maybe you could stick around," Marie suggests. "The friend of mine who delivers the Stryker series to me every year promised to have them here within the next hour."
Rick chews on his lower lip as he glances down to his wristwatch. He really has no other plans for tonight other than to relax at home, another hour wouldn't hurt.
"Sure, do you mind if I have a cup of coffee?"
"Help yourself."
Castle migrates towards the fancy new coffee maker Marie's husband, George, had splurged on last week, transferring to the opposite side of the counter while Marie returns to her place near the computer. He's barely made himself a cup of steaming black coffee and taken a sip from his mug when the cheerful ringing of the bell on the door indicates the arrival of another customer.
"Hey Marie, sorry I'm late."
Castle swallows hard and nearly burns the roof of his mouth at the sight of the woman striding inside, a familiar stack of books cradled in her arms. He's never been one to get starry-eyed over a woman, but he's quite fond of this one even though he's never met her.
"Not a problem, Katie. Thanks so much for bringing these by," Marie beams as Katherine Beckett sets the stack on the counter. "You've got a fan by the way, he's been waiting all week for me to finally have your books on my shelves."
The writer's head whips towards him and he doesn't think he's ever blushed so hard in his entire life, but she only smiles, snagging one of the books from the counter and coming towards him.
"Hi, I'm Kate," she greets, sticking her hand out for him. He takes it after only a moment of hesitation, suppressing the startle evoked by the odd jolt that slithers up his arm. By the way her lips part for just a moment, the flecks of gold sprinkled through her irises sparking, he swears she must have felt it too, but Kate recovers quickly and opens the book in her arm.
"So to whom do I make it out to?" she asks, retrieving a pen from the cup of writing utensils Marie keeps on the counter.
"Castle - Richard."
Her eyebrows quirk, amusement shimmering like sunlight in the forest of greens and browns as she glances up to him.
"Is Rick okay?" He nods, watching the swirl and sway of her hand as she scribbles over the page. "Castle, though… I like that. Has a nice ring to it."
"Thanks," he murmurs as she closes the book and offers it up to him, another hint of electricity tickling his fingertips when they brush hers.
Kate's eyes dart to the floor for a moment, something akin to shyness flirting along the lines of her face, but her expression changes when she catches sight of something near his abdomen.
"Is that real?"
His eyes follow her gaze, down to the badge attached to his hip. Most women tend to cringe at his job, not wanting to be involved with someone so expendable, so unavailable, but Kate Beckett looks eager.
"Yeah, I'm a detective."
Her eyes brighten with intrigue, those golden sparks illuminating the mixture of emerald and amber.
"I wish I'd known you while I was writing that," she muses, tilting her head to the book in his hands. "I bet you could have helped me improve the authenticity."
"I think you've done a great job in the past," he offers up, enjoying the bashful smile that spreads across her lips.
He doesn't consider himself a fan of anything more than her writing, the genre, but he has seen Kate in the papers, has also caught a few of her televised interviews, and despite her status, the fame and the fortune, she's never struck him as the diva tabloids have attempted to paint her as. She's seemed uncomfortable in front of cameras, shy like she appears now under even the slightest hint of praise. And she definitely isn't portraying any kind of arrogance while she stands in front of him in a modest bookstore he would never expect a bestselling author to step foot in.
"Thank you, that means a lot coming from a cop. I'm actually surprised you like them," she comments, propping her hip against the counter.
"Why's that?"
"Well, from experience, I've learned that most cops prefer to spend their free time away from the subject of murder."
He shrugs, mimicking her and leaning against the counter, noticing the not so subtle smirk Marie is wearing as she watches them.
"I think your books are… refreshing. At least in your stories, justice is always served. Not something that always happens in real life."
Something dark flickers in her eyes, a sadness he doesn't understand, but she still smiles at him, still leans in just a little too close to be considered appropriate for two strangers.
"Detective Castle, are you free tomorrow night?"
His throat constricts for a moment, his tongue turning to a dead weight in his mouth. It sounds like she's about to ask him out and he doesn't date to begin with, but he's definitely not the right kind of person for a woman like Kate Beckett to be dating. She's smart, successful, well put together, and he's… well, he's damaged. Broken and raw with wounds still weeping.
"Didn't you mention you would be off work tomorrow night, Richard? He closed a big case today I believe," Marie chirps and he shoots her the most menacing glare he can manage when Kate's attention is focused on the other woman.
Marie reminds him too much of his mother, which is probably the main reason he's frequented her store for so long. He's tried to convince himself that he does not miss Martha Rodgers, that they're better off keeping out of contact, but sometimes… sometimes he wishes he could apologize for that fight that pushed her out of his life for good.
"Well, Rick, if you're going to say no, I hope you weren't intending to use work as an excuse," Kate smirks, her eyes dancing with a playfulness that he hasn't experienced in so long. A foreign flare of longing spreads inside his chest, a yearning for the light in her eyes, for the warmth she exudes, and he already wants to wrap himself up in her, forget all of the darkness, the grief and sorrow he carries like chains around his ankles in favor of her.
But no, he shouldn't...
"I'm free," he finally replies, watching the pearls of her teeth close over the tender flesh of her upturned bottom lip.
"Great. Well, my number is in your book. I have to go, but call me tonight. We'll work out the details."
He resists the sudden and fierce urge to flip the book open and read the words, the numbers, she's scrawled inside, offering her a tight nod instead. He's already in over his head with her, he just knows it.
"Have a nice night, Detective," she grins, winking to him over her shoulder as she pivots, waving to Marie on her way out.
"Bye Katie, tell your father I said hi."
"Will do," she answers, smiling fondly at the older woman, whom he's now tempted to grill about how she's known Kate Beckett this whole time and failed to tell him about it. "Let me know if you need any more signed copies of the book."
Kate throws one last saucy grin at him over her shoulder before she exits the store and disappears down the sidewalk, taking his breath right along with her.
"Glad you waited around, aren't you?" Marie teases him, but he's still staring at the glass door Kate just walked out of.
"Yeah," he murmurs, forcing his eyes downwards and tracing his fingers over the glossy cover of the book in his hands. "Definitely worth waiting for."
He can't believe he just agreed to a date with his favorite author.