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The door opened again. The jangle of the bell was starting to drive Audrey insane. The sound of it made her edgy and nervous.
The whole of Paris lay beyond their door. Why people wanted to spend their time in a musty bookshop she had no idea.
She got up, braced for another elderly visitor but this time it was a young man. She guessed him to be in his early twenties.
His hair was dark and a few strands flopped over his fore head. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and the easy confidence of someone who life hadn’t yet taken a swipe at. His jeans were faded and snug around his hips and his biceps pushed at the sleeves of his T-shirt.
There was no way someone who looked like him would choose to spend time in a bookshop, so Audrey assumed he was lost. Wherever he was going, she hoped he’d take her with him.
“Can I help you?” It was one of the few phrases she knew in French, but something about the way he was looking at her sent all words flying from her head.
“I’m Etienne.”
Audrey stared at him. “You’re kidding.” She already had a clear image of Etienne in her head and he looked nothing like this. It took her a moment to align expectation with reality.
This guy with the crooked, sexy smile was Etienne?
“I don’t generally joke about my own name.” His smile was wide and genuine. “You must be Audrey.” He spoke perfect English, with just enough of an accent to make Audrey’s knees wobble. He reminded her of a slightly edgy film star from one of those foreign movies you had to watch with subtitles. Audrey hated subtitles. She’d barely got to the end of the first word when they vanished from the screen.
“Yeah, I’m Audrey.” She stuck out her hand, conscious that it was probably filthy from handling ancient books. Still, if he worked here, then he had to be used to that. “You’re not what I was expecting.” She was desperate to text Meena. I met this super cute guy.
“What were you expecting?”
Bookish and boring.
“Someone different.” Great, Audrey. Knock him dead with your verbal repartee. He probably thought she was stupid, except he was still holding her hand and looking at her in a way that made her feel all melty, like ice cream on a hot day. She felt a jolt of electricity. A connection.
“I am early for my shift. I wanted to meet you. Most people who come to this place are decades older than us. That gives us something
in common.”
“It does.” The idea of having something in common with him cheered Audrey.
He finally let go of her hand, swung his backpack from his shoulder and pulled out a laptop. “Working here is great because you have time to study.”
“Good to know.” Kill me now. If there was one thing worse than working in a bookshop, it had to be studying while working in a bookshop.
“I’m hoping to get this essay done this afternoon in the quiet moments.”
“You have an essay to do? In the summer holidays?”
“I’m taking extra classes.”
Of course he was. Someone who looked like him was bound to have flaws.
Etienne switched on his laptop. “How are you enjoying the bookshop?”
“Love it,” Audrey lied. “Working here is my dream.”
“Mine, too.” He gave her that smile again. “You love to read?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” The idea that they might have lots in common died a death. Still, with looks like that did it matter? As long as he didn’t want to talk about books, they should be okay. And if he did—well, some girls faked orgasms. She was going to have to fake book interest.
He entered his password and opened a document. “Who are your favorite authors?”
“Oh, you know—” Daunted by the dense lines of French on his screen, Audrey fumbled for an answer. “The usual.”
“The usual?”
