Disclaimer: I don't actually have time to write. I just get cocky on weeks that I get to work less that 45 hours.

Thanks to Nightlight's fire for proofreading. All mistakes are mine.

What if Castle met Kate instead of Meredith?

Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale - Hans Christian Anderson

She sat in the café across the street, newly purchased book in hand, sipping a grande latte out of a cheery blue porcelain mug. Eclectic artwork decorated the bare brick walls, sporadically illuminated by miss-matched floor and table lamps. The shop was full, but not oppressively so. Most of the chairs were filled, tables crowded with text books, drinks and pastries.

The book signing started in an hour, in a small book store across the street, used and new books mixed, dark and crowded, smelling of musty paper and cinnamon candles, sunlight fighting its way into the corner where his table was set up. She had taken her number – only 50 books signed today, so they had tickets to mark places in line, allowing customers to browse instead of standing, winding through the store, shoving for a spot to meet the author. It would be a small gathering, but in the tight space, she began to feel claustrophobic. So now she sat, prepared to wait out some of her time listening to soft jazz and nibbling a blueberry muffin.

Sinking deeper into the soft couch, she set her coffee cup on the side table and cracked the book open. She loved the sound hardback books made the first time they were opened, a soft sigh of protest, the thwip of crisp pages turning, before age and use and humidity made them limp and pliant, and the smell of fresh pulp and book glue. She paused briefly at the dedication, before slipping the pages to Chapter One.

Footsteps sounded beside her. "Excuse me." A male voice. She lifted her head, not enough to look at the man, her eyes still on the page before her, but enough to acknowledge she'd heard him. "May I sit here?"

In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand gesture to the space beside her. Lifting one hand, she waved it at the empty space, welcoming and dismissing in one. Bringing the hand to her face, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear before returning it to the edge of her book.

Denim clad legs slid past the top of her vision as the man edged his way between her and a low coffee table to perch on the cushion next to her.

o.o.o.o.o.o.

Rick had an hour before he was due back at the store. He'd met the lady who owned it at a conference his publishing house had hosted three months ago. The gray-haired, wirey, energetic lady gushed about his books, and then demanded that he come do a book signing at her store. Last week he'd come by to scout the place out and fell in love with it instantly. Dark corners, little rooms down twisty hallways crammed with lopsided bookshelves that overflowed with books. A stuffed raven perched high one a shelf, along with a mishmash of skulls and preserved snakes in bottles, sea shells, lock pick sets, baby dolls and house plants. A fat gray striped cat sunned itself on a worn in arm chair in the corner beside the only unobstructed window. He had spent hours exploring the little shop, walking away with a nearly unmanageable stack of books, mostly used with worn down edges, but a few crisp new ones thrown in the mix.

But he'd learned his lesson about showing up early to book signings, and it was not a mistake he was eager to repeat, so he found himself biding his time in line for a cookie at the coffee shop across the street, keeping the book store in sight, but hoping to stay away from the mad crush of fans.

From the back of the line, he scanned the room around him, noting mostly college students huddled in groups around low tables or sprawled in easy chairs. As his gaze worked around the room, he noticed a female at the front of the line. Soft brown hair curled around her shoulders, a light jacket hugged her figure, and tight blue jeans accentuated her lean, muscled legs, but what caught his attention was a familiar looking book nosing its way out of her handbag.

He couldn't be sure, but the color looked awfully familiar, so he watched her as unobtrusively as he could while she paid for her drink and muffin and picked her way through the crowd to an empty sofa at the back of the room.

"Sir? Sir?" a voice interrupted his reverie. The barista leaned over the counter. "What can I get for you, hon?" She asked when it was clear she had his attention.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just…" she raised her eyebrow, eyes darting over his shoulder to the woman he'd been staring at and then back to him. He felt warmth creep up his cheeks and coughed hesitantly. "I mean, errr, could I have a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie?"

He paid for it and scurried off, his feet taking him toward the back of the room.

When she failed to acknowledge him besides vaguely gesturing to the empty space beside herself, he decided to have a little fun.

"Soo… What are you reading?" he asked after he had settled next to her.

Her brows furrowed slightly, but she obligingly tipped the book up for him to be able to catch the title, eyes still glued to the page.

"Oh, Storm Warning. That's new isn't it? Is it any good?" he asks enthusiastically. It was clear that she hadn't made it past the first page.

She hummed noncommittally, hand coming up again to brush air out of her face.

"What's it about?" he leaned in closer, invading her personal space to get a glimpse of the half-filled page.

Huffing, she slipped her number ticket into the book to mark her place before snapping it shut.

"I don't know." She snapped, "I just barely start…" she faded out, finally turning to face him, recognition lighting her features as her mouth fell open.

"Lovely weather we've been having, eh?" he questioned innocently, looking around the coffee shop, as if seeing the weather outside through the ceiling.

She let out a startled breath of amusement, opening and closing her mouth fruitlessly a few times as the face printed on the back of her book jacket winks at her from across the seat.

"So, do you like the first line? I spent ages on it," he pressed, leaning forward like an overeager child.

At that she broke, a laugh escaping the confines of her mouth without her permission.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, he decided, sharp green eyes, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and humor, wide smile with glossy red lips. He'd do anything to hear that laugh again, see her smile.

"It'd be better if I could get past the first line, I'm sure." She glared, backhanding his chest, surprise and nervousness at meeting her favorite author making her bold.

Rick grins at her, eyes twinkling, and extends his hand, " Hi, I'm Rick."

"Kate." She grasps his hand firmly, giving it a slight shake, hoping he can't feel how fast her pulse is thrumming, or see how the twinkle of his blue eyes has raised the color in her cheeks.

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A/N Any feedback is appreciated. Thanks.