Page 52 of Falling for Provence

‘Oh… ahose?’

‘Oui,c’est ça.’

‘Perfect.’ Ellie stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. ‘I couldn’t find one, and I didn’t want to go to thebricolagetwo days in a row.’

It was Julien who pulled away this time. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t want to move at all, and the sooner they got those donkeys clean, the sooner he could give making love to Ellie his undivided attention.

‘You start making Marguerite soapy,’ he said. ‘I’ll get the ’ose.’

The donkeys seemed to like getting soapy with the vigorous massage that went with it. They weren’t so keen on getting drenched with cold water from the hose. They were too polite to walk away, but they shook themselves repeatedly, initially creating cloudbursts of soap suds that covered both Julien and Ellie and were, inexplicably, the funniest thing that had ever happened to him.

Or perhaps he justwantedit to be the funniest thing ever because he wanted to hear the sound of Ellie’s laughter. Toimprint it in his memory so that he could find it whenever he needed to.

Because it made him feel, also inexplicably but undeniably, the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

The scattered soap suds became much colder sprays of water as the donkeys were rinsed and, by the time Ellie was rubbing them down with towels and Julien was rolling up the hose that had gathered a layer of sticky mud, it was obvious that they would not be going out anywhere for dinner.

‘I’m sorry about your clothes,’ she said.

He shrugged. He could actually feel the touch of her gaze as if it were roaming over his bare skin instead of clothes that were not only soggy, but were now liberally streaked with mud from rolling up the hose.

Ellie kept a straight face as she lifted her gaze to his.

‘I’ll wash them for you,’ she offered. ‘But you’ll have to take them off.’

Julien’s lips twitched despite his own attempt to keep a straight face. ‘D’accord…’

‘Come with me, then.’ Ellie gathered up the towels. ‘It’s still more than warm enough out here to dry out damp donkeys, but I’m getting cold.’

‘You need a hot shower.’ Julien nodded. ‘And so do I.’

The mental image he suddenly had of soaping every inch of Ellie’s body was enough for him to decide that the pleasure of anticipation had run its course. He was more than ready for the real thing, so he turned to start walking towards where Pascal was still patiently waiting on the lemon orchard side of the fence.

‘I don’t have a shower,’ he heard Ellie say behind him. ‘But I do have a lovely old bath.’

The last time Ellie had shared a bath with anyone had been when she was small enough to fit between her older sisters. It seemed like a romantic thing to do now, but she was finding herself oddly nervous as she started filling the tub and went out to the terrace to borrow some of the large candles she had recently placed inside the ornate holders. Julien had poured wine into two glasses, and he followed her upstairs.

With a window that was small enough not to let in much of the fading daylight, the candlelight made it less daunting to remove every stitch of her clothing without the distraction of spiralling arousal, but this still felt… odd.

Intimate but so ordinary at the same time.

Also awkward. Bathtubs weren’t really designed to hold two adults, so it wasn’t easy to find a way to arrange their legs as they sat facing each other, and Ellie needed to be careful of the taps behind her back. But then Julien leaned over the edge to pick up the wine glasses and handed one to Ellie. The water stopped sloshing and the flickering light from the candles was suddenly perfect.

As perfect as the way Julien was smiling at her.

‘Ça va?’ he murmured.

Ellie took a sip of her wine. The query had reminded her of the exchange in thebricolageyesterday. So she shrugged.

‘Ah, tu sais…’She managed to find just the right note of nonchalance. ‘Le train-train…’

Julien almost choked on his wine as he burst into laughter.

‘What? What did I say?’

‘Le train-train…’Julien managed to stifle both his laughter and his coughing. ‘It means…pas grand-chose– nothingspecial. Just the same as usual. You might say “same old, same old”?’

Ellie was grinning now. Any awkwardness had been swallowed by the laughter.

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