Mira stepped inside, and much to her relief it was a real hotel, despite the sorry state of the check-in desk.

“See?” she said assuredly. “You may go now.”

“I’ll leave once I know the room is safe.”

Mira had trouble reconciling his chivalry with the extroverted salesman who only seemed to care about having fun. Except she didn’t know him well enough to assess which version was true. “Okay,”—she decided— “you can quickly look at the room.”

Instead of the clerk simply giving Mira the key, he led them to the room and even opened the door. “C’est bon?” he asked.

Mira struggled to restrain her disgust. “It’s fine,” she said, convincing no one. She turned to the clerk. “Merci.” He handed her the key and scurried away, not unlike one of the rodents that was probably lurking in the room.

Jake was the first one to step inside, and a few paces later, he was already on the other end of the tiny room. He studied the faded floral blanket that was draped across the small twin bed. “Sixty percent chance of bedbugs.”

“Shut up!” She grudgingly made her way in, forcing herself to get used to her temporary home. “And it’s just for one night.”

“Even so . . .”

“We can’t all have booty calls to give us shelter, okay?” She dropped her carry-on onto the floor. “Anyway, I’ll be fine. You can go.”

Jake examined the dusty window, taking in the view of the adjacent building’s wall. “Huh.” He spun around. “Do you think we could’ve made the flight if we’d taken the car? Like I’d suggested?”

“I told you to take the car,” she reminded him. “And you followed me to the métro anyway.”

“Really? I think it went a little differently.”

“No. Nuh-uh.” Mira crossed her arms. “Your revisionist history bullshit won’t work here.” She gestured to the door. “You can go now.” To her surprise, his expression transformed into the faux innocent look of someone who’d been holding back. “What’s with the face?”

“The thing is . . .” he started, as he retrieved his luggage and rolled it to an empty corner of the room, “Colette has a couple of appointments this afternoon, and she won’t be free for another few hours, so . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the life story of your one-night stand.”

“Two-night stand.”

“Sure,” she said. “Great. Now what was your point again?”

He folded his hands together like a boy in the Sunday school choir. “I was hoping I could kill some time with you until she’s free.”

“What do you need me for?” she asked. “You’re not exactly lacking in the outgoing department.”

He glanced back at the window. “True. But meeting people in broad daylight isn’t as easy as meeting people in a bar.”

She snorted. “Then go to a café and read a book or something.”