din

The bell rang again, abruptly interrupting the quiet rustle of pages being turned.
I looked up, ready to smile, and froze.
She couldn't have been more than twelve. Her braid had fallen behind her back, her backpack had slipped off one shoulder, and there was that impatient glint in her eyes that only true book lovers have. She inhaled as if she'd just stepped into a temple.
And then he came in.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. A dark jacket tucked tightly over shoulders built to carry more than their fair share. His chestnut-colored hair, a little longer than necessary, fell over his forehead, as if he'd already run his hand through it a dozen times that day. His eyes, a deep, stormy shade of gray, swept the room and settled on me.
My heart lost its rhythm, treacherously, for no apparent reason.
"Dad," the girl said, tugging at his sleeve. "It smells in here... like cookies, books, and autumn."
There was awe in her voice. A smile tugged at his lips, as if he couldn't help it.

I quickly put the mug down and wiped my hands on my apron.

“Welcome,” I said evenly, although inside I felt a tremor. “Is this your first time here?”

The girl nodded impatiently. He didn't. He simply continued to study me with a quiet, intense attention that made me simultaneously want to smooth my hair and hide behind a stack of novels.

"Lana wanted to come in," he finally said. Lana. The name suited her—bright and intriguing.

"Well, Lana," I said, crouching down slightly to be on her level. "Explore as much as you like. Over there is our young readers' section. Fantasy, adventure, a little classics."

Her eyes widened and she immediately took off, her pigtails bouncing behind her as she disappeared between the shelves.
and I was left alone with him, din.