Winchester Abbey

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Charlotte settled back against the cushy vinyl seat and sighed with contentment. The outside was not particularly sunny, but it didn't matter. She felt refreshed as the caffeine kicked in. Mary Catherine kept glancing furtively at Timothy across the shop. It was enough to make Charlotte twitchy herself. Suddenly, she remembered sharply what an uncle had told her.
"I'm going to go searching for an old book store for some books for my uncle," she stated, and flew out the door before anyone could follow. It was a blessed relief to be able to walk about a town's square unabated by tiresome skirts and uncomfortable boot heels. The feeling of her Vans against the old timey cobblestones was a comfortable one. She almost felt naked without the skirts around her legs, but her skin could finally breathe in a pair of cut off jean shorts and a breezy, white flowing tank and an Aztec flowing vest to match. Her eyes searched the various pubs, watch makers, flower shops, tourists traps, and finally rested on the book store at the very end of the run of charming English shops. She experimentally weighed her loose backpack, judging how many books she could cart back with her. The evenings in the drawing room had its charm but playing the piano, drinking tea, and stitching could only take her so far. Mary Catherine had mentioned a library, but nothing besides vintage books would probably decorate those shelves.
The second she walked into the book shop, her heart leaped up inside her. The smell of old books filled her nostrils. Every inch of the small shop was crowded with books- old books, thick books, thin books, colorful covers; she smiled. This was her paradise.
Her fingers trailed over the spines before she delved in. She lost track of time as she found book after book. Soon, her arms were hurting from the pile that she had accumulated.
"Need some help there?" asked a voice behind her.
Struggling to keep the pile from falling, Charlotte turned in surprise. Her mouth almost dropped open. The guy was looking at her with some concern dancing in his earnest, electric blue eyes. His dark hair was shaggily cut, giving him a sort of devilish appearance. His light colored skin was shaded darker around his jawline, giving the impression that he hadn't shaved that day. His nose was hooked and his upper lip thin, but his expression was adorable. She couldn't draw her eyes from his electric blue irises. He was not traditionally her type, but his expression was something a mixture between a hopeful little boy and young adult. Charlotte gulped. Oh boy.
"Umm, well, no-" she began, but was interrupted as she tilted, sending three books reeling toward the floor. With quick reflexes, he caught them and swung up to hand her the small group of books. She hadn't realized it at first since he had been leaning down to ask if she needed assistance, but he was really tall. Definitely above six feet tall. Charlotte smiled shyly at him as he placed the books gingerly on the top of her pile before taking the entire pile.
"I'll help you with that," he said, moving towards the cashier desk. "Are you checking out right now?" he asked as he placed them on the counter and swung around as if he had just thought to ask her. The shop being as small as it was, and Charlotte being as close behind him, they ended up chest to chest with his turning. She flushed pink before taking a stuttering step backwards.
"Sorry-I-I am checking out now. Actually, I should probably find which ones I absolutely love before I end up with too many books. I don't even live here. I don't know how I'm going to bring all of these back with me," she said, staring at the books and avoiding the man's eye. She couldn't bear to meet his eye before her entire face turned scarlet. In her rebellion to not being able to wear the makeup she wanted to every day, she had applied the purple eye shadow in a sweeping motion across her eyelid, opening up her eyes and giving her a dark, almost cat-eyed look. The affect highlighted the angles on her face and made her brown eyes darker. It was this that she gave credit to for the man's eyes couldn't seem to stay off of her face.
"You don't live here either?" he asked, surprise lining his voice.
It was then that Charlotte realized why the man sounded so foreign, so comfortable. He wasn't even British. His voice was completely and totally American. And he had a Southern drawl, much like she was used to. And, she was trying to ignore this fact, it was remarkably deep. She resented not meeting his eye, and all other embarrassment forgotten, she stared into his electric gaze.
"You're from the south!" she exclaimed in surprise.
Her attention was momentarily diverted by the old man who hobbled out from his little room in the back and caught sight of her massive pile resting on the table alongside three books which must have belonged to her mystery helper standing in front of her.
"Yeah," he replied, his thicker bottom lip puckering out briefly before opening at one corner and sliding out into a kind of relaxed smile. "Tennessee, how about you? Your accent sounds like a mix between British and American. I wouldn't have guessed you were an American."
"Sorry, I've been in town for a few weeks on a trip to-" here Charlotte paused. Boys would get weirded out if they knew that she was partaking in a book reenactment for a month or more while dressing up and paying actors to woo them just like a character from one of Austen's books. She faintly frowned as she smoothed over that part. "-see some things here and we are surrounded by people who want us to try out our English accents. It's like an acting thing almost."
"So you're an actor?" he asked, interest lining his voice. That attractive smiling thing that he was doing was not helping her focus.
"No, I'm a writer; well, that's confusing. I can see why you thought I was an actor but-" Here Charlotte paused again. She was making no sense and totally rambling. What was wrong with her? Why was that guy getting so far underneath her skin and messing her up?
"It's a long story. Anyway, I'm working on my English accent. It's good that you thought that I was a Brit," she finally finished, smiling brightly. He smiled and nodded.
"Cool, so writing is your thing?" he asked, his eyes flickering behind him at the old man currently checking out the books.
"Yeah, I love it." she replied, slipping out her wallet and getting ready to pay for her stack. Mistakenly, the old man rang up all of the books together. Charlotte was about to correct him when the guy moved in front of her and slipped out his wallet.
"Here, why don't I-" she began, trying to correct the man's mistake. Her mystery helper paid for it all and deposited her book pile in a tote bag before handing it to her.
"I think that man just put all of our books together on the same bill," she said, leaning forward to correct the man. Her mystery helper smiled and scooped up his own small pile of books.
"It's fine. I got it," he replied, his earnest gaze seeking hers again.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he took her elbow and guided her out the doors of the book shop.
"Really, don't say anything," he insisted. "It's fine. You made shopping for my mom a lot more enjoyable. I'm not much of a book person although I should probably read more. You enjoy those, and I would carry that heavy load for you to the coffee shop down the street but I've got to be back to see my mom who I came with. But since I can't treat you to coffee or carry your books for you before you pull out your back, I should call you sometime."
Charlotte stood on the front doorstep of the book place and tried not to stammer like an idiot.
"Yeah," she replied, a slow grin spreading over her face. "You should. I guess I should give you my number then if you are going to."
He smiled as he towered above her. Feeling jittery, she wrote down her digits on a Starbucks napkin she had in her backpack and handed it to him.
"You know what's funny? I'm from Tennessee too," she said, tucking the napkin in his pocket. His eyes followed the hand that had just given him her number.
"Really?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling at her disbelievingly.
"Yeah, born and raised in Memphis," she said, grinning.
He stood and stared at her curiously but he was grinning genuinely now. A buzzing in his pocket alerted him of a phone call.
"Sorry, I've got to go," he said, glancing down before meeting her eyes again. "When will you be back in Tennessee?"
"Within a few weeks," she replied, trying not to bounce on her toes. "Our trip will end and all of my friends and I will head back to face reality." She ended this with a faint laugh.
He looked distracted but his eyes lingered on hers for a moment before he smiled and took off.
"Thanks for the books!" she called out.
He turned as he strode away and gave her another smile and wave. She waved back and turned to walk back to Starbucks where the girls were inevitably still there. Glancing at her watch, she realized that she had spent a long time inside the shop. Checking her phone, she realized that she had missed several texts that the girls had sent her. She missed getting phone calls and texts from people in all of that time they had spent at Austenland. Suddenly her eyes grew wide. She wouldn't have her phone for several more weeks. Surely, he would call before then. She wheeled around but was met with a halfway empty street and no mysterious stranger. She didn't even get his name.
Charlotte slapped her forehead and laughed and groaned. She was an idiot.