When the Heart Falls(122)

WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 12





VINCENT, THE OWNER of the restaurant who'd comped our dinners the night Jenifer and I got food poisoning, smiles and places a basket of fresh bread on our table. "Comment allez-vous?"

Cade responds with precise words, practicing his diction. "Très bien, et vous?"

"Très bien, aussi!" He and Cade go back and forth making polite pleasantries in French, before Cade stumbles on a sentence and reverts back to English.

Vincent claps his hands together. "Your French, it is much better. We like to think it is our food, but I'm thinking it is your girl's help more, no?"

When Cade laughs, the world goes quiet for me, and all I can hear is the low timber of his voice. He pats my hand. "It's definitely my girl's help, but the food doesn't hurt. Can't study on an empty stomach."

Speaking of stomachs, mine flip-flops when he calls me his girl. His girl. The possessiveness of that term, said with such affection, makes it hard to keep the lines of friendship drawn in the sand. For two weeks we've danced around that line, meeting daily for French lessons and dinner, spending our free time together seeing the sights of Paris and talking about our work. He's become my best friend, the last person I want to talk to at night and the first person I look forward to seeing when I wake up.

Vincent excuses himself to see to other tables, leaving us alone again.

"Okay, spill it," I say.

Cade makes big doe eyes at me. "Spill what?"

I slap his arm. "You know what. Show me the test!"

It can't be too bad, since his mood has been high since we left the Sorbonne, but I'm dying to see how he did after a few weeks working with me.

He reaches for his book bag and hands me the paper. There's red on it, more than I'd hoped would be, but the final mark shows a 78%. "Cade, this is great! You must be thrilled!" I lean over and hug him. It's a friendly gesture, but when his hand strokes my hair, trailing down my back, and my mouth presses into the hot flesh of his neck, the friendliness evaporates into heat.

The mood shifts, and our bodies part with reluctance as we focus on our bread and drinks.

On our table, Cade's phone vibrates. He checks it, pauses, and then ignores the call, sending it straight to voicemail.

"Who was it?" I ask.

He shoves the phone into his pocket. "My mom."

"You should call her back. It's the 4th of July. I already talked to my family earlier today." It's easy to forget American holidays over here, surrounded by a different life and different culture. I was surprised to find that it doesn't take long to acclimate to a new life. Within a few weeks of being here, it had already started to feel like home. The daily routine of going to school, stopping for a baguette on the way there at the local bakery, and now meeting after class every day to study—even passing Notre Dame every day has become routine, though we still marvel at its awesomeness, both of us excited about the scheduled visit mid-August, just before the class ends. I have it circled in red on my calendar.

"I'll call her later." His response is curt, and he avoids eye contact with me.

I lean away from our books spread out over the table. "I don't mind. I can wait."

Cade pulls the phone out of his pocket and stares at the screen, finger hovering over the call button, but he puts it away without dialing. "I'll just call her later."

Right. Like that's not the most obvious copout ever. "So what's the family drama?" I sip my coffee and wait.

"No drama," my sexy cowboy says. "I just want to study right now, is all."

"Please, I grew up with five sisters, a cousin, and parents who thought I'd be successful in the escort business. I know drama when I see it."

"The escort business?"

Oops. Didn't mean to say that part out loud. I wave his question away with my hand. "Long story. The point is, I can smell family drama like some animals can smell fear. I'm like a rodent, or something else that smells really well."

He narrows his eyes at me, his lips puckered. "You're making that up."

"Oh yeah?" I wrinkle my nose and expose my teeth in my best rat impersonation and start sniffing the air. By the incredulous look on Cade's face, I can tell he thinks I've lost my mind. One more sniff, for good measure. "You're having an argument with your dad."

Cade shakes his head, his face shifting from incredulity to disbelief and shock. "No way."

"I'm right, aren't I? Now just wait, I'm not finished yet." I sniff the air again. "He… he…" I cross my eyes, like a rat in thought. "He doesn't like that you're on this trip."

Cade stares at me. "You're just guessing."

He's been reluctant to talk about his family, but it doesn't take a genius to read between the lines. "No, I'm not, because it's obvious. You used to live with your dad, and no matter how bad things got, you still spoke to each other. Because the alternative was hell. Now, you're finally away from him, so you can ignore him."

Cade waves his phone at me, as if gloating. "It's my mom that called."

"Exactly!" My turn to gloat. "Which is how I know it's your dad you're arguing with."