Page 11 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
But then she reminded herself – Dan hadn’t been an idiot. Dan had been nice. Dan had been lovely. She’d thoughtshewas a lucky woman.
Surely it was a truth that all men were the same, especially the good-looking ones and the charmers. She reminded herself of Joel’s reaction when she’d slid across his thighs: the heavy breathing, the immediate stand to attention. And he was aboutto get married! Men were led by their dicks. Slaves to them. They just couldn’t help themselves.
‘I’d appreciate that,’ she said. ‘So – what do we do now? There are a few entrances but they’ll all be locked. Guess we’ll have to skirt the walls, see if there’s somewhere we can squeeze out. Like, a secret door or a turnstile.’
He went quiet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking awkward. ‘Um, Chloe? I know this might sound odd, but can we go visit Oscar Wilde first?’
‘What? Look, you may be happy to be stuck here, but I’d rather be home with my cat. He may be male but he’s good company. Probably because he doesn’t speak and sleeps a lot.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘You live here? In Paris?’
‘You worked that out all by yourself. Have a gold star.’
‘Lucky you. I live in Sheffield.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Are you a Yorkshire lass?’
‘Huddersfield.Youdon’t sound Yorkshire.’
‘I’m from Essex, originally. So … do you know the way to Oscar’s grave?’
‘You’re serious? You’re on your stag and you want to visit Oscar Wilde’s grave?’
‘It’s the reason I wanted to come here, to this cemetery,’ he said, his expression serious. ‘It’s important to me. My mates called me weird, but I made a deal, that we’d do a strip club tonight if we did Oscar first. But then we got drunk and lost and ended up at Jim Morrison instead.’
‘I see.’
‘Can we, then?’
Dammit. The puppy-dog eyes was a mean trick, and he knew it. This was obviously a guy used to women saying yes. She should say no, just because. But … it was such a bizarre thing for a bloke to want to do, and in spite of herself, Chloe was intrigued.
‘Well, all right. But quickly. We don’t want to be stuck here after dark.’ A thought struck her. ‘Haven’t you got a phone?’
‘The lads took it.’ He gave her a weak smile. ‘Must try harder on the friends front.’
‘Too right. They’re probably posting dick pics to every contact in your phone as we speak. Even your mum. Maybeespeciallyyour mum.’
‘I don’t–’
‘But hey, it’s a stag, so all the filters are off, right? Anything goes. Aaaanything at all. Bring on the sleaze.’ She looked him in the eye. Her own were narrowed.
He blew out a breath and muttered, ‘Wow’.
She peered up at the sky between the trees; it was now a beautiful dusky pink. ‘Well – all we can hope is that if we’re here for a while, the City of Lights is bright enough to light our way.’ Her eyes scanned the shadowy pathways and tombs. ‘And that there are no weirdos orfantômeshanging about. Oscar’s grave’s that way.’
She pointed, then picked up her backpack. ‘Wait,’ she said, spotting Joel’s black beret still on the ground by the chewing gum tree. ‘That isnotan appropriate tribute. Can you pick it up please?’ He did as she asked and she put the backpack down again, sighing loudly as she struggled to unzip it with one hand. ‘And that – we take your stupid rubbish with us.’
He gathered up the cling film remnants and passed them over.
Then she looked pointedly at his neck. ‘And please take that ridiculous scarf off. If we make it out of here, I won’t be seen with you wearing that.’
‘If you insist,mein führer. Although it’s quite Oscar-ish, don’t you think?’
‘Not with the stripy T-shirt. Take it off.’
He shook his head, then picked unsuccessfully at the knot. For a while she didn’t offer to help – he could suffer a little.
He soon gave up, and shrugged. ‘Can’t. Not with one hand.’
She rolled her eyes and moved in front of him. ‘Hold it still,’ she said, attempting to pull the knot undone. But it was tied tight.
