Page 36 of Cowgirls Love French Kisses
“This is just wild. I mean…” She shakes her head with lips parted. “Just wild!”
Her laugh, free and easy, bubbles up between us.
We take our cookies and find a secluded bench not far from the café, at the edge of the gardens. A little oasis with the grandeur of the Louvre's glass pyramid as our view. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through, casting patterns that dance over us like a silent symphony of light.
Annie runs her fingertips along my sleeve, a slight gesture that feels intimate in its simplicity. “I was worried I'd never see you again.” The quiet of her voice is almost swallowed in the vastness of the courtyard.
“Annie, I—” I falter, the truth wrestling with the guilt inside me. I've been close enough to watch her, to ensure she's been alright, but I've kept myself hidden, cloaked in shadows of doubt and hesitation. And now’s my chance to tell her everything, but?—
I can’t.
She leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, as if she can sense the turmoil in me.
“Paris is enormous. All logic said you were lost to the four winds.” The warmth of her breath tickles my neck.
“Sometimes fate intervenes.”
In this case, fate is named Clément.
She looks up at me, her gaze sending my blood coursing through my veins. “And if you hadn’t been there, imagine what might have happened.”
“For starters,” I poke her shoulder, “you probably wouldn’t have stepped in front of a bus.”
That laugh. I love that laugh. I could listen to that laugh all day, every day.
The air between us feels charged, every glance and touch amplified, probably because I’ve been dreaming of it for weeks. I want to tell her everything—how I've lingered in her shadow, how I've ached to step into the light—but fear of breaking this, whatever this is, has my confession by the throat.
“Mathieu,” she fiddles with a button on my coat, a small furrow in her brow, “you know that I only have a couple months left in Paris.”
“It’s cliché but true, what they say.”
“And what’s that?”
My hand floats under her chin, tilting her toward me. “We’ll have to make every second count.”
“I like that cliché.” Her voice lowers as she holds my eyes with her own. “But where do we start, cowboy?”
I could start by telling her everything, about how she’s been on my mind ever since that day. How I’ve admired her from afar and worked to build up the courage, hoping for this moment to come. But with her eyes like that, and her lips like that, and the welcome in her smile…
“Starting with this.”
I lean in, brushing my lips against hers, a soft interruption that says more than my words ever could.
As I step back from her, the laughter has returned to her eyes. “You sure know how to make a girl forget all about Texas.” Her voice is light, but her eyes hold mine with an intensity that feels like a promise.
With the glass pyramids in front of us, I put my arm around her and she leans her head on my shoulder.
The world has never been more perfect.
CHAPTER16
Annie
The common roomis buzzing like a hive on a lazy Sunday back home. We're circled up with glasses of rosé in hand, my heavy street cat in my lap, and there's a spread of olives and cheese that would make any Texan trade in their BBQ for a day. The couch I’m leaning my heavy head into has seen better days, but it's got that worn-in feeling that you can't help but love.
Charlotte fluffs up her curly hair with a dramatic flair and rolls her eyes to the heavens. “So, I meet this guy, right? And he's got this thick, gorgeous hair, and I'm thinking, 'Okay, Charlotte, this could be fun.' But girls, I kid you not, we sit down at this cute little bistro, and he whips out a pocket mirror. A mirror!”
“No way!” I lean forward, interrupting Kitty’s nap, which earns me a look that could kill. But my grin is as wide as the brim on my favorite Stetson because Charlotte sure knows how to tell a story.
