Page 21 of How to Find a Romance in a Bookshop

Freya sprang to her feet and bounded over as soon as she saw Petra, enveloping her in a hug and then taking her arm to tug her over to the little group. Shouted introductions were carried out, and Finn was dispatched to the bar to get Petra a drink. She asked for a gin and tonic, as it was the first thing that popped into her head, but then felt like an idiot, as she saw the rest of the group was drinking pints of something amber-colored and slightly cloudy.

“Scrumpy,” Freya told her, pointing at her own glass. “Local and lethal. You think you’re fine until you stand up and realize your legs are drunk.”

Given the noise levels, conversation was almost impossible, and Petra was limited to nodding and smiling and trying to look interested as the barely audible conversation bounced around the group. Still nervous, Petra drank far too quickly and then—realizing she had emptied her glass—she indicated through hand signals and facial expressions that she would get the next round, but Freya was having none of it. “New girls don’t buy, it’s the law,” she told her, getting up instead. Being so tiny, she was immediately swallowed by the crowd as she elbowed her way to the bar.

At this, Petra sat with her knees together, feeling even more awkward. She was grateful when the woman with dark, curly hair sitting opposite came around and plonked herself next to her.

“I’m Jess,” she shouted, in Petra’s ear. “You likely didn’t hear the intros first time ’round. Want to come to the ladies’ room with me?”

Petra nodded and then instantly regretted it. Why on earth would she want to go to the loo? She didn’t need to pee. Oh God, maybe it was Jess’s way of inviting her to take drugs or something? She didn’t seem to be the type, but there was no way of knowing, was there?

Obediently, she followed Jess down the corridor to the back of the building, glimpsing a small deserted beer garden through a glass door beyond the bathrooms.

“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Jess, as the door of the ladies’ loo clumped closed behind them, and the noise levels dropped. “I didn’t really need a pee,” she confided. “I just thought it would be nice to be able to actually talk, rather than yell.”

“It’s a relief!” admitted Petra.

“We book lovers have to stick together.”

“What do you do?” asked Petra, before remembering that Ross clearly despised the question. Jess didn’t look as if she minded being asked at all.

“Regional reading lead for local schools,” she told Petra. “It basically means I help with the libraries and reading programs. It’s pretty broad, actually. I get stuck into World Book Day, competitions, sponsorship, reading schemes, grant-applications, the whole thing.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Not long,” admitted Jess. “I moved here only a couple of years ago. I put my grandmother’s books in the telephone box outside my house and it kind of took off.” She smiled, remembering. “Also, I met Aiden—he’s the grumpy-looking guy I was sitting next to out there. So—long story short—I decided to stay, and the job came along, so . . .” She shrugged.

“But what qualifies you for all that stuff you do? It sounds like you need to be an expert in—well—pretty much everything!” Oops, rude, thought Petra. “What qualifies you . . . ?” Ouch. But Jess didn’t seem to have taken offense.

“Yup, jack of all trades,” admitted Jess. “But I just love books, that’s my main qualification. Plus, I used to be a librarian, in another life. It’s just so lovely to meet another book lover.”

Petra didn’t like to put her straight that, actually, she wasn’t sure she was a book lover anymore.

“So, you’re running Capelthorne’s?”

“Just until the end of the summer,” said Petra.

“People who come here have a habit of staying.”

“Can’t see that happening,” said Petra. “What would I do?”

“We’ll see . . .” said Jess mysteriously. “Now, I was looking forward to meeting you for a specific reason. I have a cunning plan to launch a little literary festival here at the end of the summer. Actually, it was supposed to be me and Jules, but now she’s away. I didn’t want to wait another year, so I thought I’d just start small.”

“Because you haven’t got enough to do?”

“Yeah.” Jess grinned. “Anyhoo, you know about literary festivals.”

“I do?” Petra replied anxiously. “I mean, I’ve been to a few . . .”

“That’ll do nicely,” Jess piped up. “Will you help me?”

Petra looked at Jess blankly. Did this woman not know she was a walking disaster, the kiss of death to everything she touched? Of course, she didn’t. Not yet. But then a tiny thought crept into her head. Okay, several thoughts: The first was that Jess seemed delightful, and it would be nice to spend more time in her company. The second was that she needed to broaden her skill set, seeing as she had failed as a literary agent. She was going to have to find something to do to support herself in the future. A book festival was distressingly “booky,” which wasn’t ideal, but she supposed she needed to say yes to everything that fate presented.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t ask,” Jess said, anxiously, clearly watching the expressions flitting across Petra’s face as she sifted through the issues, ending with—Petra was sure—a look of gloom. Because these days, thinking about her future did that to her face.

“Actually, yes, why not,” Petra made herself say while trying to raise a smile. “I’m honestly not sure what good I can do, but I’ll try.”

Jess beamed and did a little skip of pleasure. Mission accomplished, she then led Petra, arm in arm, back to the bar in triumph. Petra was relieved to see the place had emptied out a little. Patrons who had arrived to have drinks after work had disappeared off home, or on to somewhere where they could find food. It was a blessing, she decided, that the noise levels had dropped.