“I was joking. I haven’t tried my rusty high school French yet. And I may not have as much experience as most, but if you give me the rules, I’m good at following them.”

I gave in to a smile I couldn’t seem to hold in.

His brows instantly knitted together as if in offense.

No smiling, then. Got it.

“Well,” I said, trying to stay bright. “It’s nice to meet you and Dauphine. Please let me know if there are any activities you would like me to do with her while she is in my care. School work, reading, mathematics,” I listed. He didn’t appear to be listening to my words even though he still studied me. “Though all that would have to be in English,” I pressed on. “Or we could just have fun,” I added when I still got no response.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, and his eyes snapped away from me and to his watch. “On y va,” he growled and turned and strode away. “Let’s go.”

Okay then. No joking either.

He snapped a finger at the other man who seemed to understand what a snap of fingers meant because he darted forward to grab my suitcase. Dauphine marched behind her father, arms folded and her head high.

It seemed I’d gotten off on the wrong foot with all of them. And worse, I wondered how I was going to get over my gut deep attraction to my new boss. Although, I guessed if he continued being a dismissive asshole, it might not be that hard. I clutched my water bottle and followed them outside.

Chapter Seven

Evan, our driver, introduced himself to me then loaded my bag into the trunk of a dark late model Mercedes. “Sorry we were late. Were you waiting long?” he asked in a British accent. A sense of relief at knowing there was a true English speaker to help me find my footing here was a massive relief.

“No, I’d just gotten off the train.”

“This really all you have?” He motioned to my bag with a smile, revealing cute dimples.

I shrugged, pinching my t-shirt away from my body to let air in against my skin. “It’s hot here, I figured I didn’t need jeans and sweaters.”

“Evan,” Monsieur Pascale reprimanded loudly from the passenger door that was still open, one long denim-clad leg idling on the asphalt.

Evan hurriedly closed the trunk and went to open the back door for me on the other side of the car. “Normally quite a friendly chap,” he whispered to me, his eyes rolling. “Must have accidentally sat on a carrot.”

I snorted a laugh at the ridiculous assessment as the door opened but quickly swallowed it and climbed in. The door closed and Evan got in the driver’s seat in front of me.