Broken French - Natasha Boyd Page 0,83

him, my smile fading as his eyes seared into mine briefly.

I blinked.

“Excuse us,” he ground out and urged Dauphine forward. I flattened myself to the wall as he passed me, my eyes closed, and allowed myself a last surreptitious inhale. Wood. Man. Amazing that this condescending, control freak of a man could still make my lady parts do a tap dance. Even with my eyes closed, my body could feel the moment he was safely past me. I wondered how cell-deep awareness this strong could be one-sided. And I wondered if I’d ever experience it again in the rest of my life. My analytical brain couldn’t make sense of it.

I turned and hurried up the stairs without a look back.

On the back deck, the sounds of the port restaurants and the balmy evening breeze soothed my frayed senses. Paco sat on a deck chair holding a skinny brown cigar. A gun and a copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls rested on the table next to him.

Wait.

I spun back around so quickly, I hurt my neck. “Is that …?”

He casually glanced down. “A gun? Yes.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

Right. Of course, someone would need to stay and guard the Pascale family. “Didn’t know that was a thing in France to just be casually packing. And Hemingway?” I arched my brows, playing off my shock.

“Sorry to be so cliché.” He chuckled.

“That’s not what I’d call it,” I said and caught Andrea’s amused expression.

Evan had finally ditched his starched uniform and was dressed in a t-shirt that hugged his impressive physique and a pair of worn chino pants. His hands slipped into his pockets and he shrugged. “I need to do a couple of things in town for an hour or so, so Paco will be guarding the fort.” I was relieved he was coming with us as I was hoping to find out what he’d discussed with Monsieur Pascale.

Chef and Rod were already off the gangplank and ambling down the pier toward the security gate that would let us out of the marina and into the throngs of the port nightlife. Apparently, they were getting along now.

I teetered down the gangplank, hitting terra firma for only the second time in a week, and grabbed Andrea’s arm. “Good lord. I have sea legs,” I moaned. “I feel like I weigh ten tons. Please tell me this is a known phenomenon and not that I ate that much pasta and baguette.”

Evan steadied me from the other side, looking concerned. “I hope you don’t have mal de débarquement.”

“Mally what?”

“It’s like reverse sea legs. People can get dizzy, their center of equilibrium is off from being on a boat for a long period. Hopefully it’s just an episode and will wear off soon. You didn’t have it at the beach club, right?”

I thought back. “I felt heavy and tired when we first arrived, but not dizzy. And it didn’t last.”

“Just hang on to one of us as we walk.”

“Wow, you’re serious. This is a thing?” I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. “I feel drunk without the fun.”

Evan left us then and hurried ahead to catch up with Chef and Rod. By the end of the pier, I felt marginally better but realized I’d missed my chance to talk to Evan.

“How’s your head feel?” Andrea asked.

“Good. Fine. So, is it just me, or did you notice Evan made himself scarce before I could ask him about going to speak to Monsieur Pascale on my behalf?”

“Yeah. I did. Coward.” She rolled her eyes. “It can only mean he doesn’t have an answer yet. I’m sorry.”

My stomach sank. “It’s fine. It’s not like it would have changed my mind about leaving.”

“But maybe you can corner Evan later and get the details?”

I nodded.

“Great,” she said, her uncomfortable smile morphing into a joyous one. “Now let me take you to my favorite little boutique off the square and then we’ll go get some drinks. And then I’ll persuade you to stay.”

The cobblestones were tightly packed and so were the throngs of people. I clung tightly to Andrea’s arm. There were singles, couples, families, and groups of fiery young men and tittering young girls. The outfits ranged from a day out on the water to fancy reservations for dinner.

Music and the clink of glass and hum of chatter emanating from the street cafés and restaurants lent a festive mood to the atmosphere. The evening felt full. Vibrant. Unmarred by the silly stresses of family worries or low paying

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