“If you don’t mind, miss…” The woman looked pointedly at the handsome man and blushed. “I’d rather he show me.”
His eyebrows went up with surprise, and he gave a rich chuckle. “By all means.” He offered his elbow to the older woman, who took it with a beaming smile.
Grace watched the two with amusement as the gentleman took down a black book with bold red type on the front. The woman thanked him and met Grace at the cash register on the cluttered counter.
“What a gentleman.” The woman patted her reddened cheeks before removing the payment from her purse. “If I were as young and pretty as you, I don’t think I’d let him leave without finding out his name.”
Grace flicked an anxious glance at the man to ensure he hadn’t heard the woman’s statement. He remained facing a shelf several paces away, apparently oblivious. Thank goodness.
The tension in Grace’s shoulders eased somewhat. She counted out the woman’s change, thanked her and handed her the purchased book. The housewife gave her a quick wink and exited the shop, sending the little bell chiming.
When its ring cut off, a heavy silence filled the cramped space. While Grace had been oblivious to the man’s lingering presence in the store earlier, she was keenly aware of it now. If this had been the shop in Drayton, she could offer to assist him, perhaps make a few suggestions. As it was, he appeared to know the store better than she.
She discreetly brushed as much of the lingering dust from her dress as possible and vowed not to wear anything white again until the shop had been thoroughly cleaned. In the end, she opted to tidy the bits and bobs scattered over the counter as she waited for him to make his selections. She found an old cup in one of the cabinets below, where she gathered the pencil nubs, each worn nearly to its end. Next she disposed of the scraps of rubbish, but only after confirming they were not in fact account slips, as the two often looked similar.
The gentleman was standing before the partially cleared off counter when Grace looked up. He smiled at her and met her gaze with the most striking green eyes. There was a slight cleft in his chin, which complemented the sharpness of his jaw nicely and made him as alluring as one of the actors in a cinema production.
Grace’s mind tripped over itself for something fascinating to say and quickly came up empty. “Is there something I can help you with?”
He nudged the stack of books on the counter toward her, books she’d been too lost in his beautiful eyes to notice.
“I’d like to purchase these, please.” He put his hands casually in his pockets and settled into the wide-legged stance of a man intent on conversation. “I’ve never known Mr. Evans to have a shop assistant.”
Grace punched a button on the old National cash register, and its accompanying thwack resounded in the empty shop. “It’s my first day.” She cast him a sheepish glance as she reached for the next book. “It was kind of you to help earlier. Thank you.”
His smile widened and made the smooth skin around his eyes crinkle at the corners. “It’s the least I could do. I’ve been coming regularly since I was a boy. I noticed you’ve cleaned the place up a bit. That’s quite the task to take on.”
“I’m looking forward to the challenge,” Grace replied, realizing the truth behind her words. If nothing else, putting the shop in order would help fill her time over the next six months.
“It will be a challenge indeed.” The man glanced behind him with an exaggerated grimace. “Especially if you’re a book lover. Mysteries could easily be thrillers, classics could easily be love stories, and on and on with all that.”
“I’m not,” she confessed. “A book lover, I mean. I haven’t had much time for books.”
He drew up slightly, almost as though affronted by her admission, though his smile did not waver. “Well, if you were to start with any of them, I’d suggest The Count of Monte Cristo. It’s a classic I’ve always enjoyed.” He tilted his head. “Though it could also be a love story.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.” Grace lifted the last book to ring up. “Thank you for the recommendation.”
He took out his wallet and paid for the books. “May I be so bold as to ask your name?”
“Miss Grace Bennett,” she replied.
“Miss Bennett.” He nodded politely. “I’m George Anderson. I look forward to seeing what you do to the shop.”
She nodded mutely and Mr. Anderson departed, walking backward as he did so to cast her one last devestating grin.