Page 30 of Love on the Vine
“I’ve met him once, but everyone in the industry knows his reputation.”
A few minutes later we arrived at the house. As soon as Jake turned into the driveway, Callie squealed. “Holy shit! I thought you were exaggerating, Liv. This place is unbelievable. Jake, you don’t need a live-in chef, do you?” She winked at me. “What am I saying? You already have one.”
Jake glanced sheepishly at me. If I’d wondered before if he’d purposely been avoiding eating the food I’d made, I had no doubt about it now. I didn’t want to let on how sensitive I was about it, though, so I pretended not to notice. “I’ll show you the cottage, Cal.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” Jake excused himself and went inside.
Once he was beyond earshot, Callie turned to me with wide eyes and an eager grin. “Okay, I want all the details, leave nothing out.”
* * *
Two hours and a couple glasses of rosé later, Callie had learned just how uneventful things had been with Jake.
As we made our way down the quiet streets of the village toward Chantal’s house, she gave me the same advice Jin had. “You need to take more initiative. He’s not going to make the first move. He’s a good guy and probably sees you as off-limits.”
“Callie, he won’t even eat the food I make,” I whispered, afraid someone would overhear. The night was still; only the chirping of crickets and the clicking of our sandals on the cobblestones disturbed the silence. “He’s made it pretty clear that he’s entirely uninterested.”
She wagged a finger at me. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” I knocked on Chantal’s door as she continued lecturing me. “But I am sure that you are a lousy flirt. How many guys have given up because you don’t know how to give the right signals?”
“I know how to signal. I just do this.” I winked and pursed my lips just as Chantal’s nine-year-old granddaughter, Isa, opened the door. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “T’es bizarre.”
At least I understood what she said this time. I was making progress.
“Entrez, entrez,” Chantal cried as she bustled down the hall to give us both three enthusiastic kisses on the cheek. Callie handed her the flowers we’d bought from the florist and Chantal ushered us into the tiny living room where Michel and their two grown daughters were waiting on a chintz-covered sofa.
“Et Monsieur Jake? Il est où?” Michel pretended to search behind us, his hand over his eyes. People were always asking me about him. When I didn’t respond, Chantal started speaking even faster and gesticulating wildly while Michel rolled his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked Callie, grateful for her perfect French.
“They’re annoyed that Jake isn’t here,” she whispered. “Did he know he was invited?”
“Was I supposed to invite him?”
“Chantal says he leaves you alone too much.” Callie snorted and put her hand to her mouth. “Uh-oh . . .”
As I waited for her to elaborate, Chantal shooed us toward her small kitchen to show us what she was preparing for dinner. A plate ofpetits farçis—plump tomatoes and brightgreen zucchini stuffed with meat and breadcrumbs and bathed in olive oil—sat on the counter, making my mouth water with the familiar scents of garlic, onion, and basil.
Callie and Chantal hit it off right away, chatting and laughing like old friends while I poked at the food. When dinner was ready, we helped Chantal carry the food into the dining room, but before we sat down Callie took me aside. “Chantal told me that she’s taught you to make all Jake’s favorite meals. She says you should know how to keep him happy and his belly full so he’s too tired to go elsewhere.”
“What?” I croaked.
Callie nodded with a wicked grin and asked Chantal another question. It was hard to follow, but I did hear the wordscopineandfiancée. When Callie turned back to me her eyes were twinkling. “Apparently, the whole town thinks you’re engaged.”
I could feel the blood rushing to my face. “Why would they think that?”
“Well, the first day you met Chantal, you told her you were Jake’scopine.”
I swallowed hard. “Doesn’t that mean friend?”
“Yes, and also girlfriend.”
“Oh my God! That’s why they’re always asking me about him.” I started to hyperventilate. “Should I have saidamie?”
Callie took a forkful of salad. “That can also mean girlfriend.”
I faced Chantal’s family who were staring at me now, and said, “Je n’aime pas Monsieur Jake!”
“Alors là!” Michel chuckled, his belly bouncing against the table.
