Page 21 of France Face-Off
“It pays the bills,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s not really my thing. It wasn’t something I dreamed of as a boy growing up with my father, who worked with his hands raising cattle on a ranch in Texas.”
“Why don’t you go back to Texas and work with your father?” Alex asked.
“I can’t,” he said. “Not yet. Not until I’ve proven to myself, and to him, that I can make it on my own.”
“And after you’ve proven all that? Then what?”
“Then maybe I will go back and learn to be a rancher. I know my father would love that.”
“And would he approve of you being a male escort?” she asked.
“My father would approve of anything that makes me happy.”
“And does being a male escort make you happy?” she persisted.
“It pays the bills,” he repeated. “What about you? Did you dream of being an interpreter as a little girl?”
She snorted. “No, my first dream was to be an Olympic gymnast, but I didn’t start young enough, and we moved before I could get any good at it.”
He chuckled. “And after you moved, did you come up with a new dream career?”
“I loved history. My father and I would read books together about people, places and different eras. It all fascinated me. I thought one day I might become a history teacher.”
“And why didn’t you do that?” he asked.
“After my parents’ death, I realized I had to support myself. I didn’t have the money to go to college, but I did have the skillset to be an interpreter. Many college students never achieve that level of understanding of different languages. It takes being immersed in a society where that is the only language you hear and use.”
“If you could choose any other career, what would it be?” he asked.
“Anything that didn’t require being around politicians and diplomats. Right now, working on a ranch with your father sounds pretty good. The fewer people I’d have to deal with, the better. Animals seldom talk back.”
Striker laughed out loud. “They may not be able to talk back, but they get their message across. They can be just as stubborn as any human. I should know. I had a horse stand on my foot and refuse to move because he was mad I hadn’t given him another bucket of grain.”
Alex chuckled. “I would prefer that over any human any day.”
“You’d prefer a horse to stand on your foot?”
“No, but I’d prefer to deal with an animal with an attitude than with a person with an attitude.”
“I get that,” he said. “People can be more complicated and ruder.”
“I still feel bad about you sleeping on the floor,” she said.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You paid for this room. This is your bed. You should be sleeping in it.”
“I’ll rest peacefully knowing that you’re comfortable,” he murmured.
“And I’d feel better knowing that you were sleeping comfortably in a bed. There’s plenty of room for both of us. This bed is huge.”
Striker was tempted. “No. It’s okay. The floor isn’t that bad.” He knew that if he climbed into that bed, he wouldn’t sleep much at all, not when a beautiful woman lay beside him. One who had touched his heart with her memories of her love for her parents. He couldn’t imagine being alone in a foreign country, having to deal with the loss of his parents.
“I don’t take up much room in this bed,” Alex insisted. “I’d feel better if you were sleeping in the bed you paid for.”
He started to say that he hadn’t paid for it, but he couldn’t. He shifted on the makeshift pallet. The floor was particularly hard, and the comforter did little to soften it. He sighed. “Okay, as long as you put pillows between us.” He prayed that would be enough to keep him from rolling over in his sleep and gathering her in his arms. After all, that dress she’d worn earlier that evening had done little to disguise her incredible body.
He wouldn’t get much sleep on the floor, and he sure as hell wouldn’t get much sleep in the bed. At least he’d be more comfortable while he wasn’t sleeping.
