Page 26 of Dublin Brute

“An artist, then.”

She bites her bottom lip. “I’m not Monet by any stretch of the imagination, but it used to be a deep passion of mine.”

“Used to be?”

Her smile dims. “I haven’t picked up a brush in a while. My muse seems to have abandoned me.”

“But she was with you when you studied in Paris?”

Before my eyes, Nora comes to life, telling me about how living in Paris transformed her love of painting from a hobby to a passion. The woman is something else. How can she not know how special she is?

The other couple finishes at the counter, and when they go to claim a seat, I motion for Nora to go ahead. “Ladies first.”

“How chivalrous.” She laughs softly and dips her chin, her blonde hair falling in front of her face and obscuring my vision.

I follow, pleased that the place is quiet tonight, offering us a perfect venue to chat without anyone eavesdropping.

As we arrive at the counter, Josephine meets my gaze and smiles at Nora. “Bonsoir, welcome to Cuppa Jo. I am Josephine Deschamps, owner and operator.”

Nora beams and replies in flawless, Parisienne French. “It’s lovely to meet you. Your shop is magnificent.”

“I’m thrilled you like it,chérie. What can I get for you?”

Nora drops her gaze, taking in all the pâtisserie offerings. “Oh, everything looks so good. How can I possibly choose?”

I wave away her concern. “You don’t have to choose. Order whatever you like. Order the entire menu. I don’t care. If it’s too much to eat here, we’ll box it up and you can take it home.”

The blush that pinks her round cheeks is too fucking cute.

“I’ll have a raspberry macaron and a vanilla latte with whipped cream.”

Seriously? One macaron?This girl needs to learn to indulge. “I’ll have the baguette and stew with an Americano, and an assortment of desserts.”

Jo arches a brow. “How big of an assortment?”

I meet Nora’s gaze. “A dozen?”

She blinks at me. “A dozen desserts?”

I nod. “You’re right. We better make it two dozen.”

Jo chuckles. “Bon, take a seat and I’ll bring everything to your table shortly.”

Nora is still staring at me when I tap my phone over the card reader and then tug her toward the booth I reserved around the corner by the fireplace.

“Here we are.” I step behind Nora and grip the shoulders of her jacket while she shrugs out of it. Then I hang it on the hook at the end of our booth and take mine off as well.

“Oh, wait. This table is reserved.” Nora points at the little brass ‘reserved’ sign sitting on the front edge of the table.

“Aye, it is. Reserved for us. I thought you might enjoy sitting across from the fireplace after walking home from work. It’s getting colder every day, and a Dublin chill can settle into your bones.”

I gesture for her to take her seat and slide in opposite her. The confusion in her eyes is something I just don’t understand. Why is it so alien to her to have someone thinking about her needs? She’s a lovely person.

Surely she’s had friends and lovers who have spoiled her—hasn’t she?

Well, if she hasn’t, that’s about to change.

“So, what do you think of this place? It’s cool, right?”

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