Jean Luc edged the door open a few moments later, carrying a tray of dried figs, brioche, and comté. From the silver tureen at its center, the heavenly scent of beef stew drifted outward, curling around my nose. I immediately began to salivate, but he stopped short when he saw Coco and Célie. Lifting a finger to my lips, I plucked the fruit, bread, and cheese from the tray and left it on the table beside the bed. I motioned him back into the hallway, hesitating for only a second before breaking off a piece of cheese.

I loved cheese.

“They’re exhausted.” Closing the door behind me, I popped the morsel into my mouth and nearly moaned. “They can eat when they wake.”

Though clearly irritated at the prospect of dining with me and not Célie, Jean Luc nodded and led me into the men’s room. Beau had lit a candelabra on the dressing table, and it cast soft, ambient light over the sparse furnishings: a single bed, as in our room, and a porcelain bowl for washing. The entire place had a worn yet welcoming atmosphere, probably aided by the colorful quilt on the bed and warm wooden floors.

“The girls are asleep,” Jean Luc grunted, kicking the door shut.

“Should I be insulted?” I pirouetted onto the bed, landing dramatically across Beau’s lap. He sat with his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him, taking up more than his fair share of space. Snorting, he shoved me off the bed.

“Yes.”

Unperturbed, I crossed the room to investigate the contents of the tureen, but Jean Luc knocked my hand aside. Ladling it into cracked wooden bowls, he jerked his chin behind him. “Go wash, for the love of God. Your hands are filthy.”

Unfortunately, Reid stood beside the washbowl. He scowled as I approached, shifting subtly so as not to touch me. When I accidentally splashed him with water, he stalked to the other side of the room. “If we leave after breakfast, we’ll reach L’Eau Mélancolique this afternoon,” I said to no one in particular. Jittery energy coursed through me as I accepted my stew, and I inhaled it greedily—standing over the basin like a rat—to stop from filling the dead air between us. If this was the inner sanctum of masculinity, I wanted no part of it.

My eyes slid to Reid.

Well. I wanted little part of it.

We ate in silence until none of the stew remained. Then a light knock sounded on the door.