Page 13 of Cowgirls Love French Kisses
“No harm done,” he assures me, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to say that when a blue bruise sets in under his eye.
His next words catch me off guard.
“I have dinner plans with friends tonight, Annie. I was thinking it would be nice if you joined us.” The invitation is warm, his smile hopeful, even though I just accused him of thievery.
“Dinner? With you? And people you know?”
“Friends. And yes, that’s the idea. If you thought it was a good idea.”
Mathieu scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face that only highlights his boyish charm, and something about the gesture has me seeing him in a whole new light. For the first time, I really take in just how handsome he is—there's a sleekness to him, not the bulked-up gym kind, but the natural kind that suggests he's no stranger to a good, long sprint through the city. His eyes, bright and clear, see me and listen to me, which is a nice change from the boys back home who were keen to have me on their arm: quiet and pretty.
Self-consciousness suddenly takes over my body. Here I am, standing next to a man who could easily be a magazine model, and I smell like I've been marinated ineau de transatlantic flight.
“You sure you want me there?” I try to sound light-hearted, but there's a hint of self-consciousness in my voice I can't quite hide.
Mathieu's smile doesn't falter. If anything, it grows kinder, and he gives a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, Annie.”
“After all that trouble I just gave you?”
He laughs, full and loud, the first time I’ve heard him laugh. “Becauseof all that trouble you just gave me. Annie Clayton, there isn’t another woman in Paris like you.”
And now I’ve reverted to a bashful teenager, all swoons and twitters. “After that nap and a 'Welcome to Paris' like this, how could I say no?” I scrunch up my nose. “But I'd better scrub off the travel grime first.”
“Fair enough. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
He turns to leave, but I reach out, my hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He freezes and then turns back with an expression of surprise on his face.
“Thank you, Mathieu.” My voice is soft but earnest, for this man has quickly turned around day one in a challenging new land.
He swallows, the quick bob of his throat telling tales.
“I’ll show you, Annie,” he says, his tone determined. “There’s at least one good man in France. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER6
Mathieu
The sun beginsto dip below the horizon as we arrive atChez Marcel, a spot that's more a Parisian whisper than a shout on the busy streets. Its history is as rich as the sauces they serve, a jewel hidden in plain sight, known mostly to those of us who seek the soulful corners of Paris.
“This is the place.” I open the door for her and she glides past.
“Charming!”
As she steps into the bistro's amber glow, I have to do a double take. In this light she looks…
Incroyable.
It’s not just the post-shower freshness or the way her clothes are a touch more polished than before, but there's a vibrancy to her now. Her hair's still damp, making it darker than I remember, and it frames her face in a way that makes me want to keep looking.
She's wearing a simple ankle length dress with a paisley print, but it fits her like it was made for angels. And that scent—clean, with just a hint of something floral—subtle but undeniably foreign, like fields. She's stunning, and it's not just my eyes that notice. It's like my whole being stands a little straighter.
I knew she was pretty when I first saw her, all fire and fight, but now? Now, there's this softness, this effortless grace about her that's throwing me off balance.
The lighting insideChez Marcelis a warm, inviting radiance, casting soft shadows that dance upon the walls.
“I love this place,” I tell her as I guide her deeper in. “There's a symphony of life within these aged walls. This is a place where great works of fiction, of music, and politics were born. And you smell that?” She lifts her nose into the air. “The air carries the scent of thyme and rosemary, the hearty promise of provincial cooking that tantalizes the senses and promises a feast not just of food, but of experience.”
“Wow, that’s a lot for a restaurant. But I guess that’s what I came here for.” She winks at me and something in my chest fluttered.
