The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(2)

“Come.” She gestured for me to follow her, and I shot a glance at Wyatt, still waiting and watching. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” I followed her to the back of the store, where two overstuffed blue chairs sat. These chairs were older than I was, and my friend Avery and I often hung out back here after hours, drinking wine while I played Spice Girls or showed her hilarious Scandinavian music videos. I lived with my dad in a tiny house a few blocks away, and until last year, Avery lived in a crappy old apartment that smelled like feet, so the back of the store was our hangout zone.

Thérèse took a seat and handed the bag to me. “My love, I will be flying back to Paris for the summer, and I’m not sure I’ll be home in time for your birthday.”

Cold dread trickled through me, and my throat constricted.

My thirtieth birthday was two months away, in September.

“Chanel has invited me for a residency at their fashion house.” Thérèse paused and tapped her chin with narrowed eyes. “Or perhaps it was Yves St. Laurent.” She tilted her head. “Gaultier? Mon dieu. I cannot remember.” She laughed at herself. “So many haute couture designers call my agent, I can’t keep them all straight.” She gestured at the bag. “Open it.”

I slid a white box from the bag and placed it on my lap. “What’s a residency?”

She waved a manicured hand with a sigh. “I sit around and they create couture dresses for the next season.”

I blinked. “You’re their muse?”

She shrugged in that casual French way of hers. “Something like that. Hannah, open the box.”

I flipped it open and my mouth fell open.

She made a noise of disappointment. “You hate it.”

“No,” I was quick to tell her. “It’s just…” The gold sequins sparkled even in the dim light as I lifted the dress, pinching the fabric of the sleeves like it would burn me.

It was a Hot Girl dress. The hem would fall around mid-thigh. Short sleeves. Deep V in the front. This dress was for a woman who wanted to be seen and adored. The dress was gorgeous, no doubt about that. Fun and flirty and wild and glamorous. Unfortunately, I was none of those things.

This was a Thérèse dress. This was not the right dress for me. I was shy, quiet Hannah Nielsen, the girl with her nose in a book.

Thérèse nodded with understanding. “You already have one like it.”

I snorted. “No. Definitely not.” I shot her a curious glance. “Thérèse. I’m grateful for the gift, but why did you choose a sparkly gold dress for—” I gestured at my oversized wool sweater, black jeans, and white sneakers, the same outfit I wore every day. “—me?”

Thérèse smiled to herself and shot me an appraising expression. “I was in Sydney a few weeks ago, and when I saw this, I thought of you.” She propped an elbow on the chair’s arm and watched me. “I knew it was perfect for you.”

“If I wear this dress, everyone will look at me.” My skin crawled at the thought.

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “So let them look. Make their view worth it.”

Thérèse had clearly hit her head and thought I was someone else. “I’ve always wanted to visit Sydney. I heard the food is incredible.”

“It’s like Vancouver but warmer, and the people are much friendlier. I fell in love several times while I was there.”

“In love with people?”

She nodded with a serene, dreamy smile. “Oui.” She sighed. “I love falling in love. I’ve been in love many, many times.”

“Oh. Wow. I’ve never been in love.” I’d read about it hundreds of times in books. My mom had read me Pride and Prejudice when I was a kid, and the store was named after his estate in the book. I loved reading about love.

But I’d never been in love. My heart twisted in longing at the reminder. When I returned to Queen’s Cove after university, I took over the daily running of the store so my dad could retire. For seven years, I’d been hiding in this dim little bookstore with shabby carpets, broken shelves, and peeling paint.

Thérèse tapped her chin again. “Oui, I do not think there would be many eligible suitors waltzing into your store.” She gestured in the direction of the front door. “Hannah, you must go outside and find someone to fall in love with.”

I laughed. “Okay.” I flipped the box closed and tucked it back in the paper bag. “Thank you for the gift, Thérèse. It’s lovely.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Will you wear it?”

I nodded. “Sure.” Alone in my bedroom, maybe.

This seemed to satisfy her, so she stood and squeezed me tight in a hug. “Au revoir, Hannah. I’ll be back in September.”

“Bye. Enjoy being a muse.”

“I always do.” She flashed me an effortless smile over her shoulder.

I followed her around the corner and my stomach dropped through the floor.

Wyatt Rhodes leaned on the front desk, reading the orc erotica with a small smile. My stomach lurched.

Thérèse disappeared out the door with the bell chime, and I raced over to Wyatt and reached to snatch the book from his hand, but he held it out of my reach.