When the Heart Falls(102)

He's right, but I didn't realize it. I lace my fingers together and breathe to calm my nerves. "I'm just really excited."

Now that we're actually sitting still, I have a chance to study him more closely. He's a perfectly chiseled specimen of a man, from his defined jaw and cheeks, to his deep blue eyes, to his strong hands with long, graceful fingers. His only flaw is a fine scar just over his right eyebrow that disappears under his hat and hairline.

"First time on an airplane?" he asks, his accent drawing every syllable out like a caress.

"First time away from home." Realizing that I must sound like a child, I backtrack. "Like, away, away. Of course, I've actually left my house before."

He chuckles. "Of course. So you're from New York?"

"Born and bred. You?"

"Texas. I like New York though. I had a twenty-four hour layover here so I did some sightseeing. Real nice town. Might move here myself, someday."

I've never heard anyone refer to New York City as a 'real nice town' and it makes me smile. "I like it here, too, but traveling must be in the Deveaux blood. Four of my five sisters and my cousin have all moved away for school and their careers. I'm one of the last left. But now I'm moving too."

"Where?"

"Paris. I'm staying on once the summer ends. At least, I hope I am. That's the plan if all goes well. So why did you leave Texas for Paris?"

He's silent for so long I'm not sure if he's going to answer me, but finally he says, "Architecture."

"Paris does have some nice buildings."

He smiles and sinks into his seat. "Yes, it does. Notre Dame, Versailles, Mont Saint-Michel. This has been a dream of mine for a long time."

"What's Mont Saint-Michel?"

His face lights up as he talks. "It's this little island up in northern France. The whole island is a stronghold. It's like this castle in the middle of the sea."

His enthusiasm is contagious, and stories swirl around in my head, imagining the lives of the people who once lived in a castle like that. "Sounds pretty awesome."

"It's beautiful. One of the reasons I chose this French class to go with is because the itinerary includes Mont Saint-Michel as well as several other spots I'm right anxious to see. So, why are you coming to Paris?"

"I want to write romance novels, and Paris has, you know, a lot of romance." I wait for him to make fun of me, to call romance novels 'mommy porn' or criticize them for being the equivalent of literary junk food, but he surprises me.

"Love is the cornerstone of the human experience. To capture the essence of romantic love in story takes real talent and skill. I'm impressed. But why Paris? Doesn't New York have romance too?"

I'm still basking in his words about love, but I shrug and try not to think about the kind of romance I've experienced in New York. "I guess. It's just… you ever feel like getting away? Leaving your old troubles behind, maybe getting some new ones?"

Cade smiles like we shared a private joke. "Yes I do." He doesn't pry any further, for which I'm grateful.

It surprises me that I'm enjoying this conversation so much, a conversation with a sexy guy who might actually be a good friend. "So, are you like a cowboy or something?"

"Hey, not everyone from Texas is a cowboy. That's a gross stereotype." He pauses and grins. "But yes, ma'am. I am indeed a cowboy."

"I knew it! I've never met a real cowboy before."

"What gave it away? My rugged good looks?"

I giggle. Giggle. Like some nitwit in a romantic comedy. "Your hat."

Cade pulls it off his head. "Traitorous hat. I should donate you to Goodwill or sell you at a yard sale or something."

"Can I have it?"

"No." He clutches it to his chest. "Are you serious? I love this hat. No one wears this hat but me."

More giggling that turns to genuine laughter. He's funnier than I would have imagined. "After summer, are you going to keep studying architecture, or are you going to be cowboying again?"

Cade looks down at his hat, his face going dark like someone just put out the sun. "I don't know." He puts the hat over his face. "Listen, I need to get some shut eye for a while. I'm on a different time zone. It was great talking to you."

A spike of sadness shoots through me, and the distance between us grows like a real thing, like those pictures of two cliffs with a wide chasm between them, and I have no idea what I did or said to make him mad. "You too."

"Enjoy the flight," he says.

"I will." I hide my disappointment at his abrupt mood change and reach for my book, ready to get lost in fiction, where people make more sense.

Sometimes I don't understand men and their moods. Sometimes I think it's better to be alone.





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 3





THE FIRST TIME I see the Eiffel Tower, it's as the sun sets on Paris and thousands of lights outline it against the darkening sky, like a beacon for the downtrodden and romantically starved. Already I can feel the magic of this place seeping into my bones, changing me from the inside.

Cade stands beside me—the Texas Cowboy in Paris—and stares up at our dorm, the Fondation des Etats-Unis.