“Have you ever had a proper French pastry?”

“What part of ‘I’ve never been to France’ don’t you understand?”

Tyler grins and pushes me back down on the bed. “You know, when I call you my bitch, I don’t mean it in a literal sense?”

I poke my tongue out at him, snuggle back under the sheets, and yawn.

“Okay, tired bitch, I’m going to get you pastries. I’ll be a while, so get some more sleep if you can.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.

I sigh as the front door closes. I’ve never had jet lag like this before. I’ve never been so time-fucked that I want to carve out my brain with a dessert spoon.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand and I reach over blindly. I smack the top of the stand several times before I find it and tuck it under the covers with me.

 

What are you doing today?

 

Dayton texts.

 

Waiting in bed for some hot British guy to bring me pastries.

Under the thumb!

Or hankering to be my boyfriend that’s really a boyfriend.

 

And boy, he really is. When we landed late last night, he wouldn’t let me so much as touch my suitcase before he handed them off to a porter. Then when we got up to our suite, he made me tea and called down for toast and bacon.

Now, he’s getting pastries.

But shit. The guy brought me to France. And our relationship that isn’t really a relationship is beginning to feel exactly like a real relationship. I mean, the forehead kiss. You don’t forehead kiss a girl you’re just fucking or a girl you care about. Nope. You forehead kiss a girl you want to be with because you know if she wants you too, it’ll make her spine tingle.

I am tingly. I’m frickin’ vibrating from that one brief touch. I can still feel the warmth of his lips on my skin. Because, goddamn it, he’s a real man. Only a real man could kiss my forehead with the barest of touches and set me on fire.

 

How is your relationship that isn’t really a relationship?

Hovering somewhere between a relationship that isn’t really a relationship and a relationship that could be a relationship.

SQUEEEEE!!

 

Did she just fucking squee at me? Paris messes with her head, clearly.

 

Don’t ever squee at me again,

 

I shoot back. Seriously. No one in their right mind should ever squee.

 

 

Sorry. I just want you to be happy.

I am happy. I was happy before I met Tyler. He just makes me a little…happier.

Oh, just get over yourself and agree to be his girlfriend.

Don’t you have a man to entertain?

He’s out getting pastries. ;P

 

Wow. Their mamas trained them right.

I reply saying that I’ll talk to her later when I know what we’re doing and slide my phone beneath the pillow. It’s surreal to be in the city Day has told me so much about—to see the place where she and Aaron fell in love. Before, it seemed like a whole different world. Somewhere I’d never get to experience for myself.

Only now I am. I’m here, in this city I haven’t really seen any of at all. And just maybe… Maybe that Parisian magic I’ve heard so much about could spread some fucking fairy love dust on me.

Maybe.

I stand and wrap the sheet around me before pushing open the balcony doors and looking out. It’s cold—no colder than Seattle, although it’s freezing in just a sheet—but the view makes the goose bumps flaring up across my exposed skin worth it.

Holy. Beautiful.

I can see across the rooftops. The old-style, almost antique, rooftops. There are flowers sitting on some of them, and almost every building I can see has some sort of a balcony. With flowers. Flowers everywhere. It’s beautiful and charming.

The Eiffel Tower is a few blocks away, stretching above everything else, its beauty not marred by the light-grey clouds behind it. It’s a majestic sight even from here.

I lean my back against the wall, wrapping the sheet tighter around me. I have a sneaking suspicion that Tyler asked for this suite—for one that faces the Tower. Like he knew how much it would enchant me.

“So much for sleeping,” he says softly, stepping out onto the balcony.

“I couldn’t. I wanted to look at, well, this.” I cast my eyes across the horizon. He wasn’t kidding when he said that it was breathtakingly beautiful.

“You look like a little kid who just found themselves in a sweet shop.”

I smile. “Sweet shop.”

He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Sweet shop.” He grins. “I got you pastries. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you three.”

“Ooh, which ones?”

“A croissant, a beignet, and a pain au chocolat.”

“Oooh, chocolate?” My eyes widen and I dart into the bedroom. Two paper bags are lying on the bed, and I delve into them. “Um, which is which?”

Tyler hands me the pain au chocolat and I take it with too much excitement.

“Seriously? It’s acceptable to eat chocolate and carbs for breakfast here?” I bite into it anyway. Oh my god, so good.

“For breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He grabs the beignet and tears some off with his teeth. I drop onto the bed and nibble my way through the pain au chocolat, reveling in this newfound glory far too much.

I mean, carbs and chocolate. For breakfast. Hell-o, France. I’m moving here.

I’ll consider working out at a later date.

When I finish the pastry, I drop back onto the bed. Hello, carb high. I haven’t officially left the hotel room yet but I already love Paris.

Tyler leans over me. “Get ready. Get pretty. We’re going out.”

“Get pretty?” I raise my eyebrows and link my fingers behind his neck.

He drops a quick kiss on my mouth. “I’m not obliged to tell you you’re pretty all the time until you’re actually my girlfriend.”

“Ha, ha, fucking ha!” I throw the croissant at him when he gets off me.

He grabs it off the floor and bites the end off savagely. “Thanks, baby girl.”

“Fuck you.” I get up. This time, I leave the sheet on the bed.

Tyler looks across my body and my eyes shoot to his pants. One, two… There it is. A telltale bulge begins to show and push against the zipper of his jeans. I bring my eyes up to his and he swallows.

“Get dressed. Now. Or the first thing you’ll be seeing of Paris is the underside of those fucking sheets over there.”

I bite the inside of my lip, smiling, as he walks out of the room.

Hey, two can play the asshole game. He throws the relationship thing in my face, I’ll throw my body in his. I get the feeling that the next three days will be much the same—back and forth, pushing and pushing against each other. It’ll all bundle into a tight ball of tension that will either be eliminated by sex…or an argument.

Either way, I say bring it the fuck on.

This is the most cliché moment of my life.

It’s raining and I’m standing in front of the Eiffel Tower…with a red umbrella. I swear, Tyler thinks he’s hilarious. I think the British have a very, very odd sense of humor.

“Just smile,” he begs, his own umbrella tucked under his armpit—to keep his baby dry, he claims. He lifts his camera to his face. “Please.”

“This looks like all the images on Pinterest I’ve seen!” I protest. “Seriously? Red? Wasn’t there blue or something?” I twirl the umbrella.

“Red stands out. It’s all photographical. Trust me, okay?”

I sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh for fuck sake, Liv! You have a beautiful smile. Stop being a stroppy bitch and smile at me!”

Stroppy! Oh my god. I have a new favorite word! I laugh. Seriously—I love Britspeak. I love it even more when it comes from Tyler. Damn. Tyler and love in the same sentence just…sounds so right and feels so right but is so wrong.

Wait, what’s that ache in my neck? Oh, that’s just the fucking whiplash I’m giving myself yet again.

“I love your smile,” he says, breaking through the terse silence in my mind.

“My smile is goofy.”

“I love your goofy smile,” he corrects, smiling himself. “It’s infectious.”

“Funny. I think that about you sometimes.”

I point the umbrella to the ground and twirl with it. Sometimes, being spontaneous is the only way to go. I glance up from my puddle-splashing and spinning. Tyler’s watching me through his camera, his finger clicking.

I skip toward him, not caring about the rain cascading down my face, and roll with my spontaneous moment. I drop the umbrella at the same time that he lets the camera fall and jump up on him. My legs go around his waist, his hands cup my ass, my fingers tangle in his hair, and I kiss him.

I kiss him hard. I kiss him deep. I kiss him with my fears and anxieties and my hopes and dreams. I kiss him with everything I have and everything I am right in this moment, because sometimes, that’s all you can do.

His umbrella falls to the ground next to mine with a clunk, and I arch my body over his. I don’t care that there are people around. I don’t care that it’s pouring rain and we’re both getting soaked. All I care about is this sexy, intriguing, tempting man and the way he consumes me so completely with his kiss.

All I care about is the fact that this kiss is either the end of something wonderful or the beginning of something magical.

“You should do that more often,” he murmurs, lowering me to the ground.

“You wanted me to smile. Here it is.” I run my fingers through to the end of his hair and allow my lips to spread and curve the way they want to. He places his hand on the camera, but I cover it with my own. “No,” I whisper. “This smile is for you. Just you.”

He takes his hand from under mine, conflicting emotions in his eyes, and cups my cheek. “I love the just-for-me smiles more than I love your normal smiles. Can I get them on a regular basis?”

I turn my face into his hand and kiss him palm. “I don’t know if I have a choice about that.”

“I don’t want you to have a choice.” He draws me closer to him. “I want your only choice to be me. No matter what happened before. And here, right now, this is the perfect time to make your choice. It’s a world away from everything you’re holding back because of. Promise me that, when we get home, you’ll tell me if it’s all or nothing.”

I close my eyes. I want it all as much as I want nothing. But right now, I want the all a little more.

“I promise. You, Tyler Stone, have three days to convince me why I should set every one of my fears aside and give you every part of me.”

“Are you challenging me, Miss Warren? Because you know how I take a challenge.”

“I’m challenging you. I challenge you to give me one good reason why I should take a chance on you.”

“Challenge accepted. I hope your heart—and your knickers—are ready for it.”

I open my eyes and stare straight into his. They’re dark and determined, hard and forceful, scheming, devious. I lay my hand at his waist and step farther into him. He grabs an umbrella and holds it over us ridiculously.

My heart and my knickers might be ready. I’m undecided if I am though. Still, I say, “I’m ready, Ty. Give me your best shot.”

Dayton sips her wine slowly. “A boat ride? That’s his idea of romanticizing you?”

“A boat ride with dinner,” I correct her like it’ll make a difference. I’m not really a boat person.

“Okay. But a boat? You hate boats.”

“I don’t hate boats. I simply have a strong dislike for anything that bobs in water.”

“Tell that to the salmon you ate for lunch.”

“Semantics.” I wave my hand and pick up my glass. “A boat. I feel sick thinking about it.”

“So tell him,” she says with a ‘duh’ face.

“No! He already paid for it and stuff. How awful would that make me?”

“Not as awful as you’d be vomiting everywhere with seasickness.”

My stomach turns. “Ugh. Don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Tyler asks, sitting on the chair next to me.

“Nothing.” I smile.

“So, Liv.” Aaron rests his elbows on the table. “Have you thought any more about my offer?”

The bar. The managing. The…responsibility. No, I want to say. I haven’t thought at all—but I’m quickly thinking that thinking stuff over is overrated.

“I’ll do it.”

Everyone stops.

Seriously? Is it that much of a shock? Wait.

Did I just agree to run a motherfucking bar? Holy crap. I did.

Their shock is justified.

“You will?” Aaron half-grins. “Really?”

“Why not?” I down my wine. Whyfuckingnotindeed. “I’m up for a challenge.”

Tyler squeezes my thigh under the table.

“Fantastic.” Aaron’s grin spreads across his face. “We’ll talk when we get back. We’ll go down there and run over everything.”

“Perfect. Why not?” I pour another glass of wine.

Wow. That was impulsive, even for me.

“Liv? Are you sure?” Dayton questions.

I close my eyes briefly before looking into hers. “I didn’t think about it before. That right there was an impulsive decision. I thrive off impulse. I have nothing to lose. Not really.”

Nope. Nothing to lose but a job. Good going, Liv.

“You’ll do well working for me.” Aaron sips his whisky. “Split-second decisions make success, not piss-assing around until you’re sure.”

“There we go, then. I’m already an asset.” I snort then turn to Dayton. “Your dress fitting is tomorrow, right?”

She nods. “At eleven. Are you coming with me?”

“Are you shitting me? Of course I’m coming with you, you idiot. I want to see this beauty!”

“She could turn up in a garbage bag and I’d still marry her,” Aaron says quietly, leaning over to kiss her.

Tyler slides his arm around my waist. “Are you ready to go? Leave the lovebirds to it.”

I nod, finishing the rest of my wine. Thank fuck there’s food to come—three glasses on an empty stomach probably isn’t the smartest idea of my lifetime.

We say goodbye to Day and Aaron, and with his arm firmly wrapped around my waist, Ty leads me toward the Seine. There’s a chill in the air, a crisp, almost bitter chill. It makes me curl in closer to him for the warmth I know his body can provide me.

He obliges, his grip tightening as I move closer. Neither of us says a word as we approach the river. Neither of us needs to say anything. It’s a comfortable silence. One that could transcend time, binding us together in a way I can’t possibly conceive of right now.

It’s a silence that says all the right things at all the right moments.

And I apparently need to pause on the wine for a while… Or maybe not. Maybe the magic of Paris is casting itself over me. Or I watched way too much Peter Pan as a kid and still have a misplaced belief in fairies.

I sigh.

“What’s up?” Ty asks, his breath fanning across my cheek. Warm, ahhh.

“Just thinking. Too much.” I frown. “Way too much.”

He laughs. “Let’s get you food. And I demand you stop thinking.”

I raise my eyebrows. “D’you see a bed, mister? Nope. Me neither. Shove your demands.”

“Shove them where?” he hums against my neck.

“Up your ass. Up my ass. I don’t particularly care right now.”

His lips curve. “Yes. You need food, babe.”

He hands two tickets to the girl behind the glass and whisks me off toward a boat. Oh, it’s a nice boat. I’m not a boat fan, but the wood piping and classy interior has me swooning. Tyler leads me onto it, holding my waist the whole time.

The top of the boat is open, ready for tourists to sit on and stare at the city as the boat travels along the Seine. For a moment, I believe that’s where we’re going until Ty stops to talk to the host and he waves his hand.

He leads us to the back of the boat. His hands part two curtains, and with a nod, Tyler guides me behind them.

A whole section of the boat to ourselves.

Hot damn. What is he planning?