The Little Bookshop On the Seine by Rebecca Raisin Read Free Book Online Page A

obvious?”
    “You spoke English,” he said. “With an American accent.”
    Kill me now. “Right. I did. Sorry about the bump.” There was a small red mark where we’d collided. I’d certainly made a mark on Paris, or more specifically, Parisians.
    He waved me away. Embarrassment made my cheeks flush, and now that I had someone to ask directions, I wasn’t brave enough to. He must think I was some kind of village idiot. His lips turned up, as if he was amused by me. Which no doubt he was in an
I’m-laughing-at-you
, not
with-you
, way.
    “Are you OK now?” he asked, as if the bump on the head dazed me.
    “
Oui
. I’m fine.”
    Super.
    Peachy.
    Lost.
    He tilted his head. “Where are you going?”
    I forced a smile, all the while wondering if he was about to snatch me. Why was he so nice, when everyone else wouldn’t give me the time of day? Was he going to try and snaffle me into a taxi? How exactly did someone pinch a person in broad daylight? Would he take my bags too? If I was going to be abducted, I’d still like to read. Scenes from the movie
Taken
flashed in my mind. I shook my head to dislodge them.
    “Don’t look so afraid,” he said, laughing. “I’m not going to kidnap you!”
    A kidnapper wouldn’t mention kidnapping, surely? My mother had a lot to answer for, putting this crazy fear into me.
    “That’s a relief.” I relaxed my shoulders. “I’m trying to head into central Paris… But the maps, there’s so many different lines.”
    Running a hand through the gray shock of his hair, he chuckled, like he encountered this kind of thing every day. “You’ve gone the wrong way. Go back to the platform, but catch the train from the other side.” My face fell. “It’s OK. You’ll get lost many more times. The trick is, to embrace the drama of it all.” And with that he bid me
adieu
, his wise eyes sparkling, as though he’d been sent to stop me from feeling sorry for myself. Didn’t I say I wanted to get lost? And here I was. Lost in Paris.
Tick!
And not kidnapped!
Tick!
    Feeling adventurous, I dragged my bags and myself to the front of a little bistro, with red cane chairs that faced the busy road. A glass of
vin blanc
would give me some liquid courage to face the manic train dance again.
    A waiter with a flirty smile walked over.
    “
Bonjour. Oui, madam
?”
    I smiled, it was the accent, especially pouring from the lips of someone resembling a male model who’d just stepped from the front cover of a magazine. With as much confidence as I could muster I said, “
Bonjour, un vin blanc, merci
.” The first thing Sophie had taught me was how to order wine, she must have known it’d come in handy.
    “One white wine, of course,” he said and winked before walking away. I resisted the urge to giggle.
He winked.
My friends would be rolling on the floor by now, pointing and gesticulating at his retreating back. I felt very sophisticated sitting alone, in some unidentified quarter of Paris. If only my friends could see me now.

Chapter Four
    My mouth hung open when I gazed at the building before me.
Once Upon a Time
, the sign read which was pinned to the top of the building, weathered and faded. I’d seen countless photos, and Sophie had taken her laptop out the front when we Skyped to show me the façade and the view of the Seine. But seeing it in real-life – its faded sepia brick, with the murky tea-colored river across the road – was something else entirely. The way the building leaned softly, as if time and the elements had warped it.
    Time slowed, while I gawped in every direction. A world of accents chattering away only just registered. There was the scent of the Seine; earthy, fathomless. The bustle of waiters at a busy bistro, glasses clinking together, the
tink
of cutlery on plates. Shielding my eyes from the glare of their white shirts, and silver trays held aloft, I spun, taking in the three-hundred-and-sixty degree view, like a panorama.
    Cars honked and parked in spots