Chapter Five
Emery locked herself in the tiny bathroom at the back of The Turned Page, leaning against the sink as she dialed Jax's number with trembling fingers. The small space smelled of lavender hand soap and old books, a surprisingly pleasant combination even if it did nothing to calm her frayed nerves.
“Please pick up, please pick up,” she whispered as the phone rang.
“Emery?” Jax's voice came through, sharp with concern. “Where the hell are you? Domi's having a fit.”
“I know, I know,” Emery hissed, keeping her voice low. “I'm in a bit of a… situation.”
“Did you get mugged? Are you in hospital? Because those are the only acceptable excuses I can think of for missing your signing.”
Emery winced. “I'm at the wrong bookshop.”
There was a pause. “You're what?”
She took a deep breath. “Um, I went to the wrong bookshop. Not Barton's, but this place called The Turned Page.”
“And you didn't, I don't know, check the address before you left? Or look at the multiple emails Domi sent you?”
Emery sighed. She might as well get this over with. “It gets worse.”
“How could it possibly get worse?”
“I knocked over an entire display of classics, convinced the owner I was just a fan going to the signing, and then… well, I sort of offered to work here for the day.”
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.
“Jax? Are you still there?”
“I'm trying to decide if you need a therapist or an exorcist,” Jax finally replied. “I dread asking, but I have to. Why exactly would you offer to work at a random bookshop when you're supposed to be at your own signing?”
Emery peered at her reflection in the small spotted mirror above the sink. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Again, honesty had to be the best policy. “The owner is short-staffed and she's French and gorgeous and grumpy and she has this way of tucking her hair behind her ear that—”
“Oh my god,” Jax interrupted, her voice shifting from exasperation to delight. “You have a crush.”
“I do not,” Emery protested weakly. “I'm just… conducting research. Character research. For the book.”
“Uh-huh. Right. And I became a lawyer for the paperwork.” Jax's voice softened. “Look, this is great news. You're finally doing something impulsive and romantic instead of just writing about it. But we need to deal with the fact that you stood up a bookstore full of fans.”
Emery groaned, knocking her head against the cool tiles. “Domi's going to murder me.”
“Not if I save you first. I'll ring Barton's, explain that you came down with a sudden, violent stomach bug. Very contagious. Couldn't possibly sign books without… well, you get the picture.”
“You're a lifesaver.”
“I'm a best friend. Not the same thing. Though pretty damn close today.” There was the clicking of computer keys as Jax presumably looked up the phone number for the shop. “Now tell me more about this French goddess.”
“She's not a—” Emery caught herself. “She owns the shop. Her name is Eveline. She hates romance novels.”
“Of course she does,” Jax laughed. “Because the universe has a sick sense of humor.”
Emery heard a knock on the bathroom door and nearly dropped her phone. “I have to go. Thank you for covering for me.”
“You owe me dinner. And all the details.”
“Deal.”
She hung up and straightened her shirt. One disaster averted, several more probably waiting just outside the door. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the shop.
???
Eveline watched with growing surprise as the woman who’d just half an hour ago knocked over an entire display, now efficiently helped a customer find exactly what she was looking for.
She’d accepted the help out of desperation, a spur-of-the-moment decision that she’d regretted the second she’d made it.
But actually, perhaps things weren’t turning out so badly.
“She knows her stuff,” Abe said from his usual chair, nursing his second cup of tea. “And looks like your regular Saturday crowd likes her.”
Eveline glanced around. It was true. The modest morning rush had turned into a steady stream of customers, and Emery was handling them with surprising ease. Even Mrs. Holloway, who normally insisted on speaking only to Eveline, was nodding appreciatively at whatever Emery was saying.
“She seems to understand publishing timelines quite well,” said Eveline, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I overheard her explaining to a customer why they'd have to wait nearly a year for the sequel to that fantasy bestseller.”
“That's just common knowledge, isn't it?” Abe said.
“Not the specifics she was giving. Acquisitions, developmental edits, copy edits, design cycles… she was breaking it down month by month. That's insider information.”
“So she knows someone in publishing. Or reads a lot of author blogs.” Abe raised an eyebrow. “You're being suspicious again.”
“I'm being cautious,” Eveline corrected him, but she couldn't help smiling as Emery enthusiastically recommended a book to a teenager who'd wandered in looking thoroughly bored and was now actually listening.
The bell above the door jingled, and Maya bustled in with a box in her arms. “Afternoon, my loves. I've brought treats to brighten this dreary day.” She stopped and raised an eyebrow at the buckets still scattered around the shop.
“The plumber is coming back this evening,” Eveline said, accepting the box with a grateful nod. “Again.”
“Third time this month,” Maya said. “You need a new one, dear. Chapman's about as useful as a chocolate teapot.” Her gaze drifted to Emery, who was behind the counter chatting to a customer. “And who might this be?”
“Temporary help,” Eveline said quickly.
Maya's eyes lit up with interest. “Really? Well, isn't that lovely?” She bustled over to the counter before Eveline could stop her. “Hello there. I'm Maya from the bakery next door. Welcome to our little corner of Notting Hill.”
Emery looked up with a smile. “Emery. Nice to meet you.”
“Emery's helping out. Just for today,” Eveline interjected, feeling the need to clarify.
“Oh?” Maya glanced between them, a knowing smile on her lips. “Right, well, better than nothing, I suppose, though you really do need someone permanent, Eveline. Especially with the Romance Book Club meeting coming up.”
Eveline groaned. “Don't remind me about romance novels.”
Emery perked up. “Romance Book Club?”
“Oh yes,” Maya explained cheerfully. “We've got quite the passionate group that meets over at Cafe Lila down the street. They're always discussing the latest love stories.”
“And buying up the questionable literature they force me to stock,” Eveline added with an eye roll.
Abe chuckled from his chair. “Don't mind her. She pretends to hate it, but she orders every title they request.”
“Only because they buy them,” Eveline said. “Business is business, even when it involves improbable tales of dukes falling for governesses.”
Maya unpacked the box that Eveline had put on the counter, placing flaky pastries and small cakes on the counter. “I've brought extra today. It’s a new recipe, rose water and pistachio. Thought it might sweeten the day.”
As Eveline helped arrange the treats on a plate, she caught Emery watching her, a strange expression on her face. Their eyes met briefly, and Emery quickly looked away, her cheeks coloring slightly.
“These look amazing,” Emery said, accepting a pastry from Maya. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, dear.” Maya tilted her head, studying Emery with interest. “You know, there's something familiar about you. Have we met before?”
Emery's eyes widened. “I don't think so. I'm not from around here.”
“Hmm.” Maya shrugged. “Must be one of those faces. So, what brings you to The Turned Page on this particular Saturday?”
“I was actually—”
“She was looking for Barton's,” Eveline cut in. “Got lost and ended up demolishing my classic literature display instead.”
“It was an accident,” Emery protested, looking horrifically embarrassed.
“And then she offered to help for the day to make up for it,” Eveline added, unable to keep a hint of amusement from creeping into her voice.
Maya's eyes darted between them, her expression morphing into something that made Eveline instantly wary.
“How fortunate,” Maya said, her voice dripping with suggestion. “For both of you. One might even say it was… fate.”
Abe pushed himself up from his chair. “Well, I should be getting on. My afternoon nap won't take itself.”
“I'll walk you to the door,” Eveline offered, grateful for the excuse to escape Maya's knowing looks.
As she helped Abe with his coat, she glanced back to see Maya chatting with Emery, who was laughing at something the baker had said. There was something natural and effortless about the way Emery engaged with people, drawing them in with her enthusiasm and genuine interest. It was… refreshing.
“Give her a chance,” Abe said, following Eveline's gaze. “She seems like a good sort.”
“She's only here for today,” Eveline reminded him.
Abe patted her arm. “We'll see about that, won't we?” He winked and shuffled out into the afternoon.
Eveline returned to find Maya and Emery deep in conversation about some author or other, with Maya gesturing expansively as she described a particularly romantic scene.
“And then he finally realizes that he's loved her all along,” Maya finished with a dramatic sigh.
“I know, it's beautiful,” Emery agreed.
Eveline cleared her throat. “If you two are quite finished discussing literary clichés, there are actual customers waiting.”
Maya chuckled. “Always so practical.” She sighed. “I should get back to the bakery anyway. The afternoon rush will be starting soon.” She leaned closer to Emery and added in a stage whisper, “Don't let her intimidate you. Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“I heard that,” Eveline said.
“You were meant to, love.” Maya headed for the door, but not before giving Emery a decidedly unsubtle wink that made the younger woman blush furiously.
As the door closed behind Maya, Eveline raised an eyebrow at Emery's flushed face.
“Maya can be a bit… much,” she said.
“She's great,” Emery said, still blushing. “Everyone here is.”
Their eyes met again, and this time Emery didn't look away immediately. Eveline felt an odd flutter in her chest, which she promptly attributed to the rose water pastry she'd just eaten.
“Well,” she said briskly, “we still have half a day to get through. Those romance novels won't shelve themselves, unfortunately.”
Emery's smile was bright enough to rival the sun streaming through the windows. “Lead the way.”
???
Emery arranged a stack of new arrivals, her mind racing.
Maya had seen right through her. That knowing wink had confirmed it, the woman had some kind of superhuman ability to detect attraction.
Because there was no denying it now, even to herself.
She was absolutely, undeniably attracted to Eveline.
Which was patently ridiculous. She'd known the woman for all of three hours.
And yet, every time Eveline's French accent became more noticeable because she was irritated, or when she pushed that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, or when her lips curved into a reluctant smile at something a customer said… Emery felt it like a physical pull.
She groaned. Jax was going to love this. Her perpetually single friend, who could barely order coffee without causing a minor disaster, falling for the most elegant, sophisticated bookshop owner in London, who just happened to despise romance novels.
If this were one of her books, Emery would be writing about the electricity between them, the lingering glances, the inevitable moment when their hands would touch over a rare first edition.
But this wasn't fiction. This was Emery Parker's actual life, which meant she'd probably knock over another display, or spill tea on Eveline's pristine white shirt, or say something monumentally stupid before the day was over.
And yet, as she watched Eveline recommend a book to an elderly customer, her dark eyes lighting up as she discussed the prose, Emery couldn't help hoping that maybe, just maybe, she might survive the day without completely embarrassing herself again.
Though knowing her luck, that was probably too much to ask for.