When the Heart Falls(136)

WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 19





IT'S LIKE GOING back in time, walking down narrow cobblestone streets with low hanging signs that sway in the wind against stone buildings. Auberge Saint Pierre is a 15th century half-timbered house located on the main street leading to the Mont Saint-Michel abbey. From the outside, it looks like an old-fashioned pub, the kind people would travel to for ale and a hot meal and sleep after a long journey. I feel far too modern with my sundress and backpack as we walk into history, but I'm relieved to see that despite the historic feeling of the building, modern luxuries prevail with running water, televisions and Wi-Fi, not that I intend to spend the weekend hooked up to the net.

We approach the front desk. "I booked two rooms under Winter Deveaux."

The man behind the counter types something into his computer and frowns. "I'm sorry," he says in his thick French accent. "It appears we only have one room available."

"But, I booked two." I hand him my printed reservation confirmation.

He looks at it, clicks a few more keys and shakes his head. "Ah, I see. It appears you did book a room, but there must have been an error. It was given to someone else."

"Can we have it back?"

"I'm sorry, but no. This person is a very special customer."

"Who is it?"

He leans in and whispers, his eyes darting around the room as if he's telling us a great secret. "I cannot say a name, but a very famous ghost hunter. Very famous."

"Seriously?"

"Mont Saint-Michel was once a prison you know. They say it's haunted."

There are a few ways I could handle this. Go New York on his ass and demand to see the manager, or… I peek at Cade. Or, I could make the best of a not-so-bad situation. "We'll be fine with one room."

Cade slaps his hand on the desk. "No, we won't." He sounds so angry. "She booked two rooms."

Is he just trying to defend me, or does sharing a room with me upset him that much? I can't tell and it worries me. Maybe I've read too much into our relationship. Maybe he's not feeling the same thing I'm feeling.

The man holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Monsieur, but there's nothing I can do. My hands are, how you say, tied on this one."

"Get your manager, please."

So my polite cowboy is the one going New York on his ass?

I grab his arm. "Cade. It's okay. We're at Mont Saint-Michel. We'll barely be inside anyway." I can't tell him the real reason I'm more than okay with this, that I want to share a room with him. That I would have booked one room to start with if I'd been brave enough.

That I'm terrified he doesn't want the same thing.

His shoulders slump as the anger drains out of him. "I'll sleep on the couch."



Exposed beams and honey-colored walls give our room a rustic charm that is cozy. The bed faces a fireplace with wood stacked by its side. There is no couch.

Cade drops his stuff by the bed and walks to the bathroom. "If you don't mind, I need to hop in the shower."

"Go ahead."

He leaves to wash up, and I pace the room. He hasn't talked much since the train, and I hope I didn't screw things up talking about our relationship status, a conversation I know guys are loath to have. But it had to be faced. I want to be with him all summer. No, that's a lie. I want to be with him longer than that, but it's impossible. We'll be in different countries, on different continents, living different lives.

All we have is now.

I just hope we can enjoy the time we have rather than worry about the pain that awaits us at the end. Because I lied about that, too. It will hurt. It already hurts. But sometimes the pain is worth the memories.

I unpack my few items in the dresser next to the bed and put Cade's backpack in the closet, figuring he'll want to do his own unpacking.

With nothing left to do but sit and wait, I pull my eReader out of my bag and sprawl on the bed to read and distract myself from my own depressing thoughts.

The shower turns off and my mind strays to what he looks like right now, dripping with water, body hard and wet.

He walks out of the bathroom, clothed in nothing but a towel, and tells me how much he loves me, that I'm all he's ever wanted as he throws me onto the bed and—

"Winter?"

Face flushed, I look up. He's dressed, hair wet but combed, and I'm half way to an orgasm from just my imagination.

I rush into the bathroom. "Excuse me." I can't look him in the eyes yet since my emotions are written all over me.

I splash cold water over my face and brush my teeth.

Cade calls me from the room. "Where's my book bag?"

"Just a minute." My words are mumbled by toothpaste.

"Where is it?" He sounds frantic.

I rinse my mouth and the toothbrush and walk out of the bathroom. "I put it in the closet."

He pulls open the closet, reaches for his book bag and fishes around until he sees what he's looking for, then sighs, his shoulders slumping.

"What do you have in there?" Must be important to affect him like that.

Cade smiles at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Just all my worldly possessions."