Emery froze, her heart sinking into her stomach. “Me? Run the Romance Book Club?”
“Why not?” Eveline's smirk widened. “Unless there's some reason you'd be uncomfortable discussing romance novels?”
Emery swallowed hard. If Eveline only knew. “No reason at all,” she managed. “I'd be happy to help.”
“Excellent,” Eveline said, looking far too pleased with herself. “Tonight at seven, then. I'm sure it will be… educational for us both.”
As Eveline walked away, Emery leaned against the counter, wondering how she'd managed to get herself into this predicament. A romance novelist, hiding her identity while having to host a Romance Book Club, in a bookshop owned by a woman who despised romance novels.
Jax was right. Her life really had turned into a bad rom-com.
But as she watched Eveline help another customer, her dark hair falling across her face as she leaned down to retrieve a book from a lower shelf, Emery couldn't bring herself to regret it. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter Nine
Emery arranged chairs in a semi-circle near the back of the shop. Her hands trembled slightly as she set out wine glasses on a small table Maya had provided. Things might not be so bad had the book club not been reading an Emerald Pearl novel. She felt a little bit sick.
“This is insane,” she muttered to herself, straightening a stack of napkins for the third time.
Maya bustled in through the back door, laden with pastry boxes and two bottles of wine tucked precariously under her arm.
“Let me help you with those,” Emery said, rushing forward to rescue the wine before disaster struck.
“Bless you,” said Maya, depositing the boxes on the table. “I've made these special for tonight. Raspberry tarts with little hearts. Romantic, don't you think?”
“Very,” Emery agreed, trying not to think about how her stomach churned with nervous anticipation. “Do you know how many people are coming?”
“Usually about ten,” Maya said, opening boxes and arranging pastries. “Though we might get a few extras, since word's spread that The Turned Page is hosting.”
The door that connected the shop to the flat upstairs opened, and Eveline walked in, looking beautifully elegant in a simple black dress. She'd let her hair down from its usual knot, and dark waves cascaded over her shoulders. Emery felt her mouth go dry.
“Is everything ready?” Eveline asked, surveying the setup with a critical eye.
“Almost,” Emery managed, tearing her gaze away to focus on uncorking a bottle of wine. The cork gave way suddenly, and a splash of red wine arced through the air, landing squarely on the front of Eveline's dress.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry!” Emery gasped, grabbing napkins and rushing forward. She dabbed frantically at the stain, then froze as she realized she was essentially pawing at Eveline's chest. She jerked her hand back as if burned. "I, um, I didn't mean to—"
“It's fine,” Eveline said tightly, taking the napkins from Emery's hand. “I'll go change. Try not to destroy anything else while I'm gone.”
As Eveline disappeared up the stairs to her flat, Maya shot Emery a sympathetic look. “Don't worry, dear. She's just nervous about having the club here.”
“Right,” Emery sighed. “It has nothing to do with me spilling wine all over her.”
“Well, that too,” Maya admitted with a chuckle. “But you must know by now that Eveline's bark is worse than her bite.”
While they finished setting up, Emery couldn't help but wonder if agreeing to this job was the worst decision she'd ever made. Her manuscript was waiting for her at home, the words flowing in a way they hadn't for months, all inspired by the very woman whose dress she'd just ruined. Domi was going to be thrilled with her progress, if she ever got back to actually writing instead of playing bookseller.
But there was something about being here, among the books and the warm lighting, something about watching Eveline movethrough the shelves with such purpose and care, that filled Emery with a kind of contentment she hadn't felt in a long time.
The bell jingled over the door, and Zara walked in, followed by several other women of varying ages, all chatting excitedly.
“Emery,” Zara said with a grin. “I didn't know you'd be here for book club. Have you readWhen a Bride Meets a Groom? We're about halfway through.”
“I'm familiar with it,” Emery said carefully, accepting a stack of books from Zara.
“Familiar?” Zara laughed. “That's diplomatic. It's either brilliant or trash, depending on who you ask. I'm in the brilliant camp, obviously.”
“Right,” Emery said, feeling her face flush. “Your thesis.”
