French Wanker - Victoria Pinder Page 0,13

five?”

I kissed both of his cheeks like I’d seen chic French people do all day and slipped into my room.

I glanced at my missed call log. Marlon hadn’t left a message.

Good.

My room was small, double bed, with a white and yellow quilt and a nice view of the vineyard.

I left my bag near the door and leaned against the wall. I went into the family group chat in the app and texted where I was to my five sisters. The six of us were all we had in the world. None of us were married, and our parents had died just as the youngest had started college.

Done, I checked my cheeks and tossed my phone on the bed.

I didn’t need interruptions tonight. I unzipped my bag to grab my toothbrush and cleaned up.

Maybe being with Quentin would help me forget the world during the vacation and just forget everything else.

I’d like to know what being carefree might be like.

For once, I indulged in forgetting everything and just being with a handsome man. I’d likely never see him again once my trip ended.

I sucked in a breath and knocked on the white painted oak wood door between the rooms. “Knock, knock. Our rooms are joined.”

He opened the door then walked to the bed and zipped his bag. “Is your room acceptable?”

The connotation of those clipped phrases hadn’t sounded French or American. I raised my eyebrow. “You sound almost British with that word.”

He shrugged, moved his bag onto the floor, and joined me. My skin grew alive as he said, “I lived there for a while, and my mother is British, so my accent is probably mixed from years spent there.”

Now that was a slap in the face of a reminder that we didn’t know each other. I pushed my fingers into my pockets. “Either way, you don’t sound American.”

He pressed his hand on my back to lead me again when he asked, “Are you ready to eat?”

He’d turned cold since we left the Institut. We walked to the patio outside where there were a few wooden tables with chairs and a buffet dinner. We both scooped food onto our plate, and I have to admit, the chicken in the white sauce was tender. I took two helpings and followed him to his seat. A seating hostess left two glasses as I slipped into my chair.

“What’s going on, Quentin?” I asked.

Just then a waiter greeted us and asked if we’d like red or white wine. I pointed to the red, he poured, and left. Once we were alone, Quentin pointed to the lights in the trees around the patio and the moon that started to peek out in the distance as the sun set in the other. This place was gorgeous. “My parents were married in a place like this.”

“On a vineyard?”

“Oui.” He sat back more sullenly, like he was being forced to do something he didn’t want. “I also spent most of my life on one, so seeing a running vineyard is almost like being home.”

“That sounds like a magical childhood.” While we didn’t know much about each other, I reached across the table and patted his arm. “And it’s good that you have a home to go to.”

“What about you?” he asked.

I broke the roll that I’d reached for before his question. I hadn’t known it was hard, and crumbs went everywhere. “My sisters are in a state of panic, because Marlon called off our wedding. My best friend, Sabrina’s been point person about helping me stay sane, talking me into going despite how I quit my job. Turns out this honeymoon for one has been good so far.”

His dark eyes glinted. “Why?”

Must be nice to live without others, as I guessed Mr. Wanker was alone, but I wasn’t sure. “Marlon’s parents work closely with one of my sisters. Our parents had been friends. So now I broke up some business deal and complicated her life while my own went up in smoke. Guess love created my disaster.”

“That sounds complicated.”

Compassion was good, but I shrugged it off and met his gaze. “My sisters are always fighting about something, but they all have my back, with their own strengths.”

We both ate some of our meal and drank some of the wine. As the evening wound down he said, “No one has my back.”

“I’m one of six.” I let the wine relax me. “Sabrina, my best friend since second grade, is running interference and returned my ring for me.”

“I see,” he said,