Page 72 of Her Inconvenient Groom (French Conquests 4)

She gave him an impish grin and kissed him teasingly on the nose.“Here.”

Dustin looked down at her, amazed at the change he was seeing, from the straightlaced, painfully uptight businesswoman he’d met such a short time before, to this sweaty, flushed, panting girl in wet jeans and t-shirt. He wondered if she could see the changes in him, too.

“Well, it looks like ‘here’ is where we’re going to have to stay awhile, especially if that storm has anything to say about it.” He began darting around, looking to see if there were any signs of occupancy, of someone being there or having recently enough vacated that they were likely to return. But there was a single bed in one corner, and a bathroom off to the other side. Other than that, the kitchen, dining room and living room were all in the area where they were standing.

He noticed she was shivering and hurried back to her side. He rubbed her arms, stripping off his denim jacket to get at the long-sleeved flannel shirt, which was still dry enough to use as a towel. “Take your top off, sweetheart. I don’t want to see you back in the hospital with pneumonia.”

“The storm won’t last long,” she protested. “We’ll be back on the trail in no time.”

From the crack of thunder overhead, Dustin doubted that, but he didn’t want to worry her. “Maybe, but take it off anyway. You can’t stay wet like this.” He led her to the small, low bed and, after pressing down on it vigorously to make sure it wouldn’t collapse under them, urged her to sit. She let him peel the wet shirt up over her head like a child, and began the careful process of rubbing her down, inch by inch, limb by limb.

Chapter 39

Amazing how little it takes to be happy, Chantelle thought as she hugged Dustin’s cotton shirt more tightly around herself. When they’d left that morning she had teased him about being paranoid enough to pack an extra shirt, but he’d laughed it off, saying he tended to sweat a lot during physical exercise, so he didn’t want to be wet and gross on the way back.

As a bonus, the fact that they only possessed one dry shirt between them meant that Dustin was enticingly bare-chested. She didn’t mind admitting that she was ogling him just a tiny bit.

She sat on the bed and watched as Dustin rummaged through his own backpack, which was way heavier than hers, and withdrew a few surprises. There was a bottle of red wine—which he deftly uncorked using the Swiss Army knife she’d also teased him about backing. A few pieces of fresh fruit and several pre-packaged sandwiches. Corn chips. “You can’t eat a chicken salad sandwich without corn chips,” he’d commented when they’d stopped off at the gas station convenience store.

“You meanyoucan’t eat chicken salad sandwiches without corn chips,” she had shot back. “I can manage just fine.C’est degeulasse.”

“It’s not disgusting. It’s awesome.”

“Your French is getting better,” she’d complimented him. He’d given her a happy grin.

Now as the thunderstorm raged overhead and her tummy began to growl, he laid out the items he’d thoughtfully packed, and it looked and smelled like the best offering of her favorite Michelin-starred restaurant.

“Thanks for thinking about the corn chips!” She reached out and grabbed a packet, but he knocked her hand away lightly.

“Those goinsidethe sandwiches. For the crunch, you know?”

She whined, “I’m hungry!”

The bed sank as he sat down next to her. “So let’s eat, then.” He spread out his arms proudly to indicate the feast before them. “Looks good, huh?”

“Mmm. I wasn’t sure we’d actually need all this, but you have the foresight of Nostradamus. That’s one reason I love you as much as—” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Chantelle clapped her hands to her lips. Had she really said that? Unprovoked?

Maybe he won’t put too much weight on it,she decided.Maybe he’d think she was just kidding.

But he sat stock still for a moment, and then pantomimed deafness, cupping his hand around his ear. “Pardon? Can you repeat that?”

She made a face. “You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” he pressed.

She floundered. “Because — ugh —” Was he really putting her on the spot?

He wrapped her in his arms, shoving aside the food, which had consumed her attention so completely just moments before, but which now seemed so trivial. “Would it make you feel any better if I told you, I love you, too?” Like her, he was carefully trying to keep his tone light, allowing him to find refuge in banter if it turned out that they’d overstated their case.

“Infinitely,” she began to joke back, but couldn’t keep it up anymore. This wasn’t a joke. This was more real than anything she’d ever felt. She let her face fall into her hands. “Dustin.”

He pulled her tighter, and she felt his heart beating within his chest. “Chantelle, I love you. You have to know that. You should be able to feel it.”

She faltered, remembering the night in her hospital room when he’d pleaded with her to be together. And all the other nights she’d spent in the hospital with him keeping vigil at her bedside. Playing cards with her. Setting up video calls so she could communicate with her board of directors. Helping her in and out of the hospital bathroom. Bringing her favorite foods. Telling her stories of his youth to make her laugh and him listening to hers. He stood by her, ready to provide whatever she needed or wanted. “I couldn’t be sure.”

“How could you not be?”

“I couldn’t believe it could be true. I lost our baby—”

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