Eveline arranged a bouquet of autumn flowers in the window display, conscious of Emery moving about in the stockroom. The younger woman had been acting strangely all morning, stranger than usual, which was saying something. That phone call had clearly unsettled her, though Eveline couldn't imagine why a conversation with one's aunt would provoke such obvious nervousness.
Unless, of course, it hadn't been her aunt at all.
Emery Parker was hiding something. This wasn't a new realization, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. The way she occasionally dropped industry terms that casual readers wouldn't know, the way she sometimes spoke about authors with a familiarity that suggested personal acquaintance, the mysterious “emergencies” that seemed to crop up with suspicious regularity and required her to answer the phone, or even leave a little early.
Eveline should probably care more about these inconsistencies. She should probably be concerned about having an employee who was clearly not being entirely truthful. And yet, somehow, her curiosity about Emery outweighed her suspicion.
She glanced toward the stockroom, catching a glimpse of Emery's curly hair as she moved between shelves. Therewas something endearing about her clumsiness, about the enthusiasm she brought to even the most mundane tasks. Something genuine that shone through despite whatever secrets she might be keeping.
It was… troubling.
Eveline had built her life in London carefully, deliberately, after running away from Paris. She knew that she’d built walls around herself, and that was just fine by her.
And yet, she kept finding reasons to work alongside Emery, to linger near her as she helped customers, to watch the way her face lit up when she discovered a book she loved on the shelves.
“Nice flowers.”
Eveline startled at the sound of Maya's voice. She hadn't heard the bell, too lost in her thoughts. “Don't you have a bakery to run?”
Maya grinned, setting a box on the counter. “Morning lull. Thought I'd bring over some of those almond croissants you pretend not to love.”
“How thoughtful,” Eveline said dryly, but she was already reaching for one.
Maya leaned on the counter. “Where's your charming assistant today?”
“Unpacking shipments.” Eveline took a bite of croissant. “And she's not 'my' anything.”
“No?” Maya's eyes twinkled. “Could have fooled me, the way you watch her when you think no one's looking.”
Eveline choked slightly on her pastry. “I don't… that's absurd…”
“It's not absurd to be interested in someone, Eveline,” Maya said gently. “It's human.”
“I'm her employer,” Eveline said. “Nothing more.”
“Mmm.” Maya clearly wasn't convinced. “If you say so, dear. Though I could swear I saw her watching you just as intentlyyesterday when you were helping that young boy find poetry for his mother's birthday.”
Eveline felt her cheeks warm. “You're imagining things.”
“Am I?” Maya smiled innocently. “My mistake, then. A bit odd how you’re developing an interest in romance books, though. Like with the book club and all…”
“Market research,” Eveline said primly. “Know your enemy.”
Maya laughed, and before Eveline could say another word, Emery emerged from the stockroom. She brightened at the sight of Maya.
“Maya! I thought I smelled something delicious.”
“Fresh from the oven,” Maya confirmed, pushing the box toward her. “Help yourself, dear. You look like you could use the energy.”
Emery set down her stack of books and reached for a pastry, nearly knocking over a small display of bookmarks in the process. Eveline caught them before they fell, her fingers brushing against Emery's.
The contact was brief, electric. Emery's eyes widened slightly, meeting Eveline's for a moment before she looked away, cheeks flushing.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Clumsy as always.”
“It's fine,” Eveline said, her voice sounding strange.
Maya looked between them, amusement in her eyes. “Well, I should get back before the afternoon rush. Enjoy the croissants, ladies.”
