Eveline studied her for a moment, then gave a sharp nod. “Just as long as you don’t break anything,” she said.
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.”
