My throat immediately clogged. “He’s gorgeous,” I admitted. “It was a bit difficult not to have a reaction. But also he acted like an ass the first night. Turn off.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” She smirked. “And do you still think he’s an ass today?” she asked, knowingly.

“No,” I admitted. How could I be after learning the things I had at the lunch table yesterday about what a good guy he was. I guessed they could all be making it up, but I doubted it.

“Still turned off?”

I met her gaze, steady. “I’m professional. It won’t be a problem. Plus, let’s just say I have a trust issue with men in general. It won’t be a problem,” I repeated.

She held my stare, appraising, but with a small smile playing around her mouth.

“What?” I asked, amused and relieved we were somehow inching back to our initial rapport.

“Nothing.”

“Seriously. It won’t be a problem.”

“I know. I don’t think you’re the one who’s having a problem.” She took a sip of coffee with a smirk. “Sure you don’t want another?”

I shook my head and slipped out of the bench to put my plate in the dishwasher. “Wait. What does that mean? Have I upset someone?”

“God, no. Not at all.” She shrugged. “Nothing. Really, I misspoke. Just … be yourself.”

I tilted my head, but when she offered nothing more I sighed. “You’re strange.”

“Probably,” she said. “Have fun with Mr. Pascale and Dauphine at the market.”

The three of us were going? I swallowed. That didn’t feel intimate and happy-little-family-ish. Not at all.

Maybe I could hang out with Chef.

Dauphine opened the door. “Dépêche-toi s'il te plaît!” she whined. “We are leaving soon. Hurry!”

Chapter Seventeen

The streets of the village of Antibes were even better than I’d imagined a French town to be. From the boat, I could see the medieval sea wall that surrounded the village, and now that we’d come into port, the streets were close and ancient. The old stone and stucco buildings valiantly supported new and improved shopfronts. In the streets, there were awnings in red, and blue, and every color imaginable, providing shade over the offered wares. Baskets of all shapes and sizes, some lined and filled with varieties of olives, trays of cheese, some tall filled with baguettes, crowded covered tables. There were barrels of fresh garlic, bundles of lavender, cases filled with pungent truffles. I walked with my mouth open, Dauphine dragging me along to look at dresses. It was a good thing I’d just eaten breakfast. Xavier trailed behind us, unwilling to hurry like his daughter, or perhaps not wanting to be grouped with us. He’d waved us ahead as we stepped off the tender and slipped on dark sunglasses and a ball cap pulled low. A disguise of some sort, I imagined.