Page 36 of Austen Persuaded

“I want to know how the business works, what kinds of opportunities there might be for someone just starting out, willing to work her way up, that sort of thing,” I said, my voice slightly shaky at the end. Inexplicably, I felt a little nervous. Perhaps because I was finally thinking about—and ready to start talking about and hearing about—something I might actually grow to care about and build a life around. My true calling. Maybe. “I don’t think I want to edit, and I don’t think I’m cut out for writing books. But I want to be … near books. Involved with them somehow. Or other kinds of publications, I don’t know. Tell me everything. Educate me, wise master.”

His wide smile set me at ease once again, and he proceeded to do just that. Though he worked for a periodical, not a book publisher, he had in fact written several published books and knew a lot ofpeople in adjacent industries. He was easy on the eyes too, I observed as he spoke animatedly about his passions. But I also reconfirmed that I felt nothing more than friendship for him.

Which was a bit of a relief, but also disappointing … ugh, whywouldn’tI be attracted to someone like Jack?

Not because of …

Freaking Kylan.

Get out of my head.

And out of my city.

Chapter 10

Standing with my hands on my bare hips, I examined my options laid out on the bed. First was a crisp, navy blue pantsuit, which I’d worn only once before, for my Bolder interview years ago. Next to the pantsuit was a blue and yellow floral dress with a sash at the waist and a long flowy skirt that nearly reached my ankles. And on the right was a baby blue ribbed sweater and newish jeans.

What does one wear when going to an interview at a bookstore? Well, possibly an interview. I hadn’t even applied yet. But I hoped that by appearing in person, I could ask to speak to the manager and sell myself as someone to hire on the spot. Or at least as someone to interview. Surely they needed someone in some area of the store, whether working at the cash register or stocking the shelves. Wrinkling my nose with distaste, I thought I might even agree to clean bathrooms if that’s what it took to get my foot in the door. I was committed to finding my destiny. And I was going to do it. Today.

Bookshop was the natural place to do it. It was my favorite bookstore by far.

So I needed to dress for success, right? But I didn’t want to seem presumptuous. How silly would it be if they were hiring for cashiers and I interviewed in an expensive pantsuit? They’d never hire me.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to go to the interview in jeans, even designer ones that fit me like a glove.

I picked up the floral dress lovingly. I didn’t wear it very often and wasn’t sure why, because it was beautiful. My eyes swept over the soft fabric. It would be perfect for today; the choice of outfit said,“I took the time to look nice today but didn’t want to look pretentious.”And I should know. Fashion was my thing. Or at least it used to be. I’d barely given it a thought lately, but perhaps that was for the best, given that fashion was an expensive habit and I needed to be a little frugal. At least until I had regular paychecks streaming in.

And with that thought, I smiled confidently and slipped the dress over my head. It seemed looser than usual. But the dress was designed to be loose, so no one would notice but me. I slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth, apply my favorite cherry-red lipstick and black mascara, and brush my hair. I studied my reflection. It was a low-effort look that seemed just right for a bookstore interview. I flashed a brilliant smile in the mirror before turning to leave.

A short while later, walking up to the Bookshop sign with its fancy, old-style lettering carved into a dark wooden plank, I took a calming breath.

This is it. My destiny awaits.

I chuckled at my own dramatic words, drawing an amused look from an older couple walking by.

Once I’d stepped inside, I breathed in the books. The spines, the pages, the worlds within them, the stories, the characters, the people reading them, the tall shelves on which they sat, the ladders placed strategically throughout. Bookshop had an old-fashioned feel, with its wood floors and wood-paneled walls, many thick patterned rugs and upholstered chairs and wooden tables. It even boasted a small European-style cafe in the corner area, with some shockingly good coffee, tea, and pastries. Yet somehow the place didn’t feel old and dusty; it was also large and thoroughly modern at the same time. I had no idea how they achieved that effect, but I’d love to find out. I meandered over to the registers, lightly touching the books I passed on their special display shelves.

“Can I help you?” asked a girl who looked about thirteen years old, but she had to be older because, well, labor laws. She had jet-black hair and a bored expression, and her arm was in a cast.

“Hi, I’m Annie,” I said, flashing my winning smile. At least it was usually a win. This girl didn’t even blink.

Sigh. Teenagers.

“I’m Sai.” The girl pointed to her name tag, which readSayaka. “Can I help you find something?”

The girl’s unblinking stare was somehow a bit unnerving. I bit my lip.

Snap out of it. She’s just a kid.

“Uh, yes. I’d like to speak to your manager.”

Sai’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling compassion for the terrified teen. “I just realized how that sounded. Not what I meant at all. I’m here about a job. Is your manager in this morning?”

Sai’s expression transformed from fear to relief to suspicion. “Youare here about a job? What job?”

I tried to ignore the doubt in her tone.

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