Page 21 of Meet Me in Paris

“I’m not sure though,” Jillian rushed on. “Why don’t you go check on her?”

I straightened, trying to remember my model poses.Flirty hips.One hand resting on the waist and the other on the handrail.Was this too much? It had to be too much.

Hunter appeared at the bottom, lifting a bottled water to his lips. When he spotted me with his cheeks full, he slowly lowered the bottle, his eyes perfectly round, an expression of complete and utter shock on his face.

His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed his mouthful of water. Or tried to. A second later, he began coughing.

Like,bad.

Oops.

I grabbed a handful of material and hurried down the remaining flight of stairs as quickly as my heels allowed. The second I reached him, I began pounding on his back.

His coughing only intensified, still out of control. By the redness in his face, I could tell he struggled to breathe. I lifted one arm like a toddler and continued to pound his back with the other hand.

Jillian walked in and stopped, taking in the scene. “Um. What happened here?”

“Somebody forgot how to swallow. You okay, Hunter?”

He nodded, still coughing, and pulled away from my pounding, holding up his hands. Jillian picked up the bottle and twisted the cap back on despite the fact that it was mostly empty now and a massive puddle covered the tile floor.

Alexis joined the fun just as Hunter recovered. She took one look, rolled her eyes, and left to get a towel from the reception desk.

Three minutes later, we had the situation well in hand. Hunter stood upright as if he hadn’t just been doubled over, fighting for his life, and the rest of us even managedto clean up the water without getting sopping wet ourselves. A win for sure.

“We’d better go so we don’t miss our reservation,” Hunter said as he motioned toward the lobby. Then he nodded to me as if I were a stranger and said, “You clean up nice.”

Then he swiped his water bottle from Jillian, putting it in a death grip that folded it nearly in half.

When we climbed into the taxi a moment later, Jillian caught my eye with a victorious grin. I ?didn't want her to be right. ?Everything within me rebelled at the very thought. Me and Hunter?

Clearly something fundamental had changed between us. Even more, something fundamental had changed inside us.

Whatever it was, I ?wasn’t sure I had the power to fight it any longer.

An hour later,we sat at a cramped table in an even more cramped restaurant, staring at a menu without a word in English.

“Uh,” Jillian began. “Hunter, do you have a favorite dish here? Because I can’t understand a word of this.”

I stared at the menu, frowning. Not a single photo, and despite my years of French, I couldn’t understand much either. Only a word here and there.

“I’ve tried everything on this menu,” Hunter told her. “If you like fish, theSole Meunièrehere is good—a favorite of Julia Child and King Louis XIV, actually. TheConfit de Canardis also excellent if you like duck.”

I doubted Jillian had ever tried duck in her life, and since Mom didn’t like fish, we only tried it a few times.

Jillian closed the menu and set it aside. “Why don’t you surprise me? I’ll try anything you put in front of me if you think I’ll like it.”

Oh no. I could think of a million ways this could go wrong.

To my surprise, Hunter only nodded thoughtfully. “How about you, Alexis? Feeling brave tonight?”

“Absolutely not,” my sister said, making a sour face. “Youput snails in front of me, and I’ll shove them in your face. Do they have pizza?”

We laughed.

“Not exactly,” Hunter said, “but if you trust me, I’ll order you something close. I know just the thing.”

“Only if you promise to eat what I don’t.”

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