Page 2 of Sinful Promises

But nothing was tying me to the land Down Under after that. Not even my dying mother.

It struck me as strange that I hadn’t heard from her for two weeks. I didn’t even want to think of reasons why that was so. I had enough going on without adding her situation to my overactive brain.

The night before I left to go back on tour, I sat down with Edna and Dave and told them that I had to move out of their little rented loft soon. Edna actually had tears in her eyes. I hadn’t realized how much they’d enjoyed having me around. And it wasn’t just my money they were going to miss.

When she hugged me afterward, it was a big booby-squish one. It was kinda special. I imagined it would be the type of hug all fabulous aunties would give—something I’d never had in my life.

It truly hit home that this was real. In about three months, my time in Europe would come to a screeching halt. I had to make the most of it.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

By the time I arrived for my first day of work in October, I was itching to get going. I’d researched all the places I wanted to see on this tour, and I didn’t plan on wasting a single minute. If I stuck to plan and managed to tick off the twelve things I’d put on my list for the next twenty days, then I’d be on track to see just about everything on my list before I left Europe.

I was even proactive in booking a couple of tours in advance—that way I had no excuse not to make the most of my final days.

The demographic of my October group was like nothing I’d had before. We had twenty-eight people on the tour, and twenty-six of them were men.

Yay for me.

Not so yay for Roman.

But it was just like Roman to take our tour’s imbalance in his stride.

The two women, Paula and Carla, were from Spain. They were young, had more energy than sugar-crumbed five-year-olds, and were out and proud lesbians. It only took five minutes in their company to see just how happy the two of them were. They were on this tour to have fun, and if the first day with them was any indication, they were destined to succeed.

I wished I had even half the amount of confidence these two had. They were exciting to be around and didn’t mind being the center of attention. With twenty-seven men on the tour, including Roman, they were sure to get it.

At the end of my first-night speech at the hostel rooftop bar, the young lovers announced they were off to check out the Eiffel Tower and promptly headed toward the elevator with their arms draped across each other.

Roman offered to take the men out on the town, and after the majority of them accepted, he turned to me. “You want to change your mind and come with us, Red?”

I’d already told him what I’d booked for tonight, so his question was halfhearted at best. Yet I had a strange feeling he didn’t really want me along anyway. Maybe he was taking the guys to a titty bar or something. There were plenty to choose from around Paris.

I waved my hand as if shooing him away. “Are you kidding? You boys are trouble.” I grinned. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thanks.”

Roman did a curt nod and as he walked away, a pang of disappointment washed over me.

It was as unexpected as it was unwanted. I hated that he had that effect on me.

When we said our goodbyes in the lobby, I strode in the opposite direction to him, heading toward the meeting point for the first item on my to-do list. At the corner, I stopped at the pedestrian crossing with a rowdy bunch of people and when I turned to glance back at the hostel, Roman was still there . . . looking at me.

My heart skipped a beat at the expression on his face. It was a look of longing. A look that suggested he’d rather be with me.

A look that had butterflies dancing across my belly.

It was also a look that played a cruel joke on my heart. I’d thought my heart was clamped shut with a flashing do not disturb sign on it.

But he was still disturbing it.

Angry with myself, I spun around.

When the crossing light turned green, I merged in with the crowd and walked as fast as I could without breaking into a sprint.

My legs were a quivering mess by the time I reached Statue équestre d'Henri IV in Pont Neuf. I hadn’t moved that fast in way too long and my ragged breath proved it.

I really should take better care of my health.

Maybe I’d get more time to do stuff like that with my next career move. Whatever that was.

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