Chapter 2
The bell above the door chimed—a delicate, old-fashioned sound that always startled Elowyn more than it should. She lifted her head from the stack of books she was organizing on one of the shop’s rugs, half-hidden behind a small armchair draped in crocheted blankets.
Her father was in the back room repairing a faulty light fixture, and Miss Loretta, the elderly owner, was upstairs resting. For the moment, the shop was quiet.
Comfortingly quiet.
Except now someone had walked in.
Elowyn stiffened a little, pressing her hands together, grounding herself with the familiar pressure.
She didn’t even look up at first; all she saw was the bottom half of a tailored black coat, long legs wrapped in perfectly ironed slacks, and tall, sharp black heels. The stranger looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine—impeccably put together, restrained, powerful.
The woman noticed her, and her brows lifted—not in surprise, but in gentle acknowledgment. “Hello,” she said, voice low and smooth. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Elowyn shook her head quickly. “You’re not.” Her voice came out small but steady, her gaze glued to the floor.
“I usually see Miss Loretta around this time,” the woman said. “Is she upstairs?”
Elowyn nodded. “She was feeling tired, so she asked if I could keep an eye on the shop today.”
“I see. Responsible of you.”
Elowyn flushed. She wasn’t used to being noticed, let alone praised by someone who looked like they ruled the world.
When she risked a glance up, her breath simply… left her.
This was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Dark brown hair—borderline black—fell in neat, loose curls down to her chest. Her jaw was sharp, her cheekbones sculpted, her straight nose framed two catlike eyes painted a deep emerald.
“What’s your name?” the beautiful stranger asked.
“Elowyn,” she whispered.
A brief pause. The woman repeated it softly, as if trying to remember something. “Elowyn. Striking name.”
It wasn’t flirtatious—just casual, offhand—but the compliment still sent fluttery butterflies through Elowyn’s stomach, the kind that made her unsure whether she wanted to sit down or run away.
From the back room came her father’s muffled curse and the clatter of tools, causing the woman’s eyes to flick in that direction.
“Ah.” A quiet, knowing exhale—almost a huff of amusement. “I suppose that means the light fixture is giving your father trouble again.”
“You know him?” Elowyn asked, shy curiosity edging her tone.
The woman nodded. “He’s done repairs at my company. He’s very reliable.”
“Oh…” Elowyn toyed with her sleeve. “He likes working here better,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Amusement and understanding flickered through the woman’s eyes, as though she’d already guessed that. “Well,” she said, “I can see why. Much calmer environment.”
She drifted between the bookshelves then, pausing at a title. She lifted it briefly, assessing it with a quick, practiced glance before placing it neatly back.
The silence that filled the shop was gentle—neither tense nor romantic. Just two people who understood quiet in the same way.
Her father finally emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. “Ellie, can you—” He stopped short when he saw the customer. “Oh—Ms. Monroe. I didn’t hear you come in.”
The woman gave him a small, respectful nod—brief, practiced. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gray.”
“What can I get for you today?” he asked as he moved toward the café counter.
Elowyn froze.
She had forgotten to ask that. Miss Loretta entrusted her with the shop for one day, and she had already failed at basic customer service.
Ms. Monroe set a book down with a soft thud. “A black coffee, please. And a recommendation.” Her gaze flicked toward Elowyn. “If she wouldn’t mind?”
Elowyn blinked. “Me?”
“If you don’t mind,” Ms. Monroe repeated. “There’s no rush. Take your time.”
Elowyn hesitated, then stood, smoothing her dress with nervous fingers. “Um… I can try.”
Ms. Monroe gave a small approving nod. “I’d appreciate that.”
And she meant it—not out of attraction. Not yet.
But because something about the quiet girl with the skittish eyes who hadn’t once looked directly at her… intrigued her.
Elowyn drew a deep breath and began scanning the shelves. What the hell do women like that read? She thought.
Summoning a scrap of courage, she asked softly, “Is there anything specific you enjoy reading?”
Ms. Monroe’s smile was small but warm. “I trust your judgment,” she said, stepping closer until she stood beside Elowyn—tall, poised, posture immaculate. Her eyes moved calmly over the shelves.
Elowyn tensed at the woman’s nearness. Her perfume filled the air—cashmere and oud, with a hint of jasmine. And only now, standing directly beside her, did Elowyn realize just how towering the woman truly was. When Elowyn glanced sideways, all she saw was the woman’s upper arm.
“You’re very tall and smell really good,” Elowyn blurted.
Instant embarrassment.
Her father had always told her that compliments could ease anxiety or break the ice. In that moment, she wished she’d ignored him. You’re very tall and smell really good? She sounded like a creep. A tiny creep.
The woman’s low laugh pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts. “Thank you.”
Heat flooded Elowyn’s cheeks, as she quickly grabbed a few books from the shelf—ones she’d read recently—gathered them into her arms, and offered them up without looking directly at Ms. Monroe.
“I—um—I just finished these,” she said.
Ms. Monroe took the books from her the girls tiny hands smoothly, her long fingers—adorned with a few rings—holding all three with effortless strength in just one hand.
Elowyn fidgeted with her sleeves, as she often does, waiting for some reaction.
“Thank you, Elowyn.” Ms. Monroe gave a small nod and strolled to the counter to pay.
At the door, she paused, turned, and looked back at Elowyn with unreadable softness.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, sweetheart.”
Then she was gone.