Page 8 of Angel Eyes

After the tour, James invited me out for a drink at a nearby brasserie, and we’d been friends ever since. Sometimes, it was hard to believe it had already been three years since we met, but I never doubted that every day since had been that much better for having him around.

Not that I would ever tell him so.

He glanced up, his lips twitching. “Did you really ask her if she plans to spend her time in Paris writing by candlelight?”

“Please shut up.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as he snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, not sure I’d expect a call after that.”

“Oh yeah? Just for that, I quit.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, hanging the clipboard on the wall behind the desk before turning to face me. “You’re giving a tour on Saturday morning. We already have a full roster.”

I frowned, trying to remember when I’d signed up for a Saturday shift. “James, you know I don’t work weekends. I’ve got stuff to do at the gallery.”

“You do now, or have you already forgotten I fixed your bike for free after you nearly destroyed it crashing into that American girl?”

My pulse skittered. “Technically, she crashed into me.”

James shook his head. “And you call yourself a gentleman. Blaming a lady for her own misfortune.”

Before I could issue a retort, Nora, James’s wife and fellow tour guide, appeared from the back of the shop carrying a short stack of flyers. She was in her usual all-black ensemble, her dark hair bobbed, giving her the appearance of the quintessential Parisian woman despite being originally from Manchester.

“You guys still talking about that woman Gabe ran over?” She darted a look between James and me. “What was her name again? Julia?”

“Juliet,” I said flatly, “and I did not run her over.”

It’d been three days since then. Three days since she left me on that bridge, her chestnut hair blowing in the wind as she rode away. Three days since I picked up a book lying on the ground and found a name written inside in neat cursive letters—Juliet M. Chandler. Three days of recalling her sitting across from me, her moss-green eyes shining in the dim light of the café.

Three days of reminding myself I swore never to fall for anyone again.

I tossed my phone onto the couch next to me. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter if she calls. I was only trying to be nice.” James and Nora exchanged a look, which only irritated me further.

“Right,” Nora said, eyeing me suspiciously. “Well, I’ll just be off then. Gotta hand these out.” Dumping the flyers into her messenger bag, she gave James a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving through the door, the bell above it tinkling as she exited.

No sooner had the door closed behind her than James reached under the counter to retrieve two glass bottles from the mini-fridge. “If you’re done sulking, want to have a beer?”

I gave him a dubious look. “It’s barely three o’clock.”

He crossed the room and flopped down beside me. “Five o’clock somewhere, mate. Besides, we don’t have any more tours scheduled for this afternoon. Might as well call it an early day.” I shook my head but accepted the bottle anyway.

My phone vibrated, but I ignored it this time, turning my attention to the passersby outside. It’s not like I was waiting to hear from her, so there was no point in checking it again.

From the corner of my eye, I could see James watching me, a slow grin spreading across his face. I blew out a heavy sigh. “Keep staring at me like an asshole, and I’m leaving you here to drink alone.”

“All right, all right. It’s just good to see you take an interest in someone, that’s all. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never once heard you mention a woman’s name.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been busy preparing for the gallery opening. I don’t have time for distractions.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, just make sure when you make it to the top, you aren’t all alone up there. Success is nothing without someone to share it with.”

I paused, the bottle suspended halfway to my lips as the image of a pretty smile flashed in my mind.

Literature and art are two sides of the same coin. They sort of belong together.

I blinked, my brain finally resetting. “Thanks for the advice, but I think I’m good.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it. “By the way, I forgot to mention some bloke came by looking for you yesterday. Said he’s been trying to get in touch with you but wasn’t sure he had your correct contact information.”

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