Page 18 of The Rancher's Amnesia Bride

Philippe's lips twisted in a devilish smile. "I have a hard time buying that. Women tend to take pride of how com...plex they are."

Charlee-Mae couldn't help grinning. "You were about to say 'complicated', weren't you?"

"See? You are now making things complicated."

His wife laughed. "Fine. Most women are complicated or, as you say, "complex", but..."

There was a pause, and when Charlee-Mae looked at him expectantly, Philippe played along and asked obediently, "But what?"

"But we become simple creatures the moment we fall in love."

This time, Philippe's expression only changed to one of blandness, and although it made Charlee-Mae nervous, she told herself that perhaps this was also the reason why he had not been the slightest bit romantic in last night's note. Maybe, she had been right the first time, and Philippe was different from the typical Frenchman, and he preferred not to speak of his feelings at all.

Even so—-

"When a woman falls in love," she continued determinedly, "a man only has to do two things to make her happy. One: love her back, and two—-"

"Buy her jewels?"

His sardonic tone made her look at him questioningly. "I won't say there aren't any female gold-diggers, but isn't it your choice to date them or not?"

"And I don't. I bed them, but I don't date them."

"Spoken like a true womanizer."

The muttered remark had Philippe studying his wife in amusement. "And are you the one jealous now, ma femme?"

"Yes, I am," she snapped.

Philippe's lips pressed together in a straight line. This was not the first time a woman had been jealous over him. And while such admissions - or even outbursts at times - used to irritated him, Charlee-Mae's jealousy was yet another different thing about her. He liked that she was jealous over him, and he could not think of a single fucking reason why that was.

"My amnesia has obviously made me forget everything about you," his wife was now saying in an adorably grumpy tone, "so could you kindly refresh my memory and tell me again exactly how many women have there been in your life?"

"Countless."

She didn't smile. "I'm not joking."

"Neither am I."

Her jaw dropped. "You've dated—-"

"I've fucked countless women."

"And you never counted them—-"

"Because I started pretty early," Philippe felt obliged to explain, "and in those years, fucking was my means to rebel. So I tried to fuck as many girls as I could. At least a different one each night."

Charlee-Mae was stunned speechless. A different one each night...at least? She had done a few wild things in her life as well, but...obviously, considering the fact that she was still a virgin at her age, she wasn't really that wild.

Even if she looked the part.

While Philippe, on the other hand—-

He might look like a fairytale prince come to life, but obviously his past was more PornHub than Disney, and yet, somehow...

"I know I'm not supposed to force myself to remember," Charlee-Mae heard herself say, "but is it okay if I take a guess?"

"On what?"

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