SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “What a perfect night for dinner outside,” January said. “This is beautiful, Clarissa.”

  That tiny quiche was the most divine morsel January had eaten in months, and her eyes widened as she stared at the tray before her.

  “Have another, darling, we have plenty,” Clarissa told her. “You won’t gain too much, I promise.”

  Meanwhile, Lawrence’s eyes raced to inspect Xavier, who’d chosen a simple pair of tight black trousers paired with a fitted deep purple and burgundy printed polo shirt, accentuated with a zipper pull instead of the traditional buttons.

  Looking at him now, she remembered that Etienne wore that same shirt once during one of his television appearances. However, she shoved that thought from her mind. January had other issues. Most pressing, she wondered if Lawrence approved of Xavier’s outfit for casual dining attire.

  Knowing not what else to do, she gestured to Xavier to join her at the table where the other couples were already chatting. As tourists, they compared notes on the historic sights to see around Avignon. January had been all over the region with Etienne, but she didn’t have much to contribute, since her time always revolved around his shows.

  “Where do I know you from?” one of the wives asked January, who brought her finger to her lips and smiled.

  “Don’t tell anyone…”

  “I knew I was right!” the woman looked at her husband. “We’ll keep your privacy. What brings you all the way to Provence?”

  A broken heart and nothing else to do but feel sorry for myself, January thought, but her smile remained intact. “A little break in my schedule and a chance to spend some time with my best friend.”

  “May I get your autograph before the night is over?” the woman asked.

  January pretended she didn’t hear.

  That evening, she truly appreciated the chance to sit and talk to Xavier and play catch-up on the oddities of their lives that they’d forgotten to tell each other. Of course, Xavier read the knowing look in her eyes—a reflection of times gone by. Often, he missed the old spontaneous January, who always just picked up and left without a thought or concern. She’d spent so much time wrapping herself into Etienne’s closed little world that she missed out on her own.

  So engrossed in the conversation, January didn’t see the young man standing next to her with a bottle of wine until she bumped into him and splashed herself with her own glass.

  “Oh, Madame…I am so sorry…”

  All January noticed when she looked up were the thick, dark blonde tresses blowing in the evening breeze and two true-blue eyes veiled in humiliation.

  “Uh…let me…here…” He fumbled as he reached for a linen napkin from the table, but then stood immobile as if he didn’t know what to do with it. “I’m so sorry…”

  That lovely English accent echoed with traces of familiarity. January wondered if this happened to be the wayward son whom Clarissa and Lawrence mentioned that afternoon.

  “Don’t worry,” January kept her voice light as she looked up at him and smiled. In truth, she couldn’t stop herself. He was young and striking with a thin, muscular build and sharp jaw. And she never resisted an opportunity to flirt—even in her grief. “It was totally my fault. And it’s a good thing that I wasn’t drinking red.”

  “I…suppose there is a bright side to everything,” he said without much conviction. “Will you be alright?”

  Cocking her chin so that he could get a glimpse of her beauty mark, she said, “If you’ll pass me that napkin, I will be.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—again!” He popped himself on the forehead with his palm as he handed the napkin over, and then he turned his attention to Xavier. “I’ve just made an awful mess of your evening. And Monsieur, my apologies to both of you.”

  “Oh, you did not ruin my evening…” Extending a hand, she offered a truce between them. “I’m January.”

  “January…what an interesting name…”

  There was something about the way that he enunciated each syllable that she just found so charming. Maybe forgetting Etienne was easier than she thought.

  “I’m a New Year’s baby. My parents weren’t so original.”

  Those lips that had been frozen in mortification just moments ago slackened to a reluctant smile. “January…” he said again. “Oh! And me…I’m Nigel. Nigel Hereford—”

  “Smyth,” January said with him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise…” Before her, Nigel lingered for just a few seconds too long. She wondered if perhaps he’d recognized her, but for some reason, January doubted that he had. “I, uh…I should go. Mum needs my help—in the kitchen.”

  “Oh…! Of course…”

  All the while, Nigel continued to back up toward the kitchen door. “Well, maybe I will see you then. Goodnight, January…and?”

  “Xavier Ranard. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  “Wait…the designer?” Nigel asked. “I think I have a few of your shirts.”

  “And you have good taste,” Xavier complimented the young man. “Wear them in good health.”

  Reaching behind him, Nigel managed to open the creaky wooden screen door. “I’ll see you two around…”

  Only seconds passed before Xavier began to frantically whisper to January. “He likes you!”

  “We just flipping met!” She smacked him on the thigh. “And it was only last night that I broke up with Etienne.”

  “That was a lifetime ago for you Hollywood actresses,” Xavier dismissed her remorse. “And you were playing him, too. Don’t you lie to me, Janvier.”

  “I flirt with little old ladies, Xav. It’s my nature.”

  “Little old ladies and hot young men with accents,” he said. “That is your nature.”

  Suddenly, she remembered the wine spillage and dabbed at the spot on her dress that was now almost dry. “I don’t do younger. Remember?”

  “At least this one likes my clothes. With Etienne, I had to fight him to wear me.” Xavier folded his arms across his chest. “I cannot wait to see where this little trip takes us.”

  “Xavier, pour me another glass of wine.”

  Banter ensued as Clarissa served each course. January could only guess that Nigel was hiding in the kitchen. That poor guy was so flustered. In fact, she wondered if his awkwardness prevented him from dating.

  She had to stop herself from thinking about him, though. He was the son of the proprietors of this lovely house.

  When dinner cleared out, Clarissa brought them another bottle of wine to enjoy on the patio or in their room. January still had an itch to go out on the town, but Xavier seemed to have other designs.

  “Your son, Nigel, is it?” he spoke up to Clarissa. “You said he might know of some trendy spots in town.”

  “Oh, yes, let me fetch him for you. Meanwhile, can I get you anything else? More fruit and cheese?”

  For once, January spoke the truth after a meal as she patted her tummy. “I am stuffed. You are such a marvelous cook.”

  “Years of practice,” Clarissa said. “I learned from our staff back home in England. It always relaxed me. And thank you, January.”

  “Maybe she can give you a lesson before we leave,” Xavier suggested teasingly. “Then you can cook for me.”

  “I would love to teach you both. We’ll have to plan something. Now, though, let me go find Nigel.”

  Watching the door like a hawk, January gave it to Xavier. “Couldn’t just go with what you found online. You had to call Nigel out here.”

  “You will thank me as he licks your—”

  When the door swung open, January slammed her hand over Xavier’s mouth. Sometimes, she thought she’d also make a great FemDom.

  “Licks your beauty mark!” Xavier added as Nigel dallied near the kitchen entrance. His smile, now devoid of flirtation, reflected a noble air of politeness. Raising his brows, he folded his hands in front of him and stepped up to their table gingerly.

  “Well, bonsoir…”
Xavier said and then swigged his wine. “We all meet again.”

  “We certainly do,” Nigel said as he twisted his fingers. “By the way, how’s your rabbit finding our accommodations?”

  January sat up with a smile. “Lenny? Oh, that’s right. You were the gentleman who took my call this morning.”

  “I was indeed, Mrs. Ranard.”

  “Oh, no,” Xavier panicked. “We are not married!”

  “We just…pretend we’re married…sometimes.” January felt the need to extrapolate, given the white lie she’d told Nigel that morning. “He’s, uh, Xavier…he dances to the beat of a different drummer, if you get my drift…”

  “Oh!” A slow crimson burn sprawled across Nigel’s cheeks. “Oh, well, then…I apologize. Profusely.”

  “No need to be sorry,” Xavier said. “People often make that mistake. Including my mother…”

  “No, I mean…” Nigel fumbled over his words. He had clearly made some sort of horrendous mistake, unbeknown to January and Xavier. “I…oh, blimey! I put you in a room with only one bed. I can try to switch you, but we’re rather full, starting tomorrow…”

  Nigel hadn’t anticipated the uproarious laughter as January and Xavier dissolved amidst the hilarity of the situation. Once she collected herself, January assured him, “It’s fine, Nigel. We can share a bed for a few nights.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, I can—”

  “We’re all good,” she insisted. “Aren’t we, Xav?”

  “All good,” Xavier agreed with a trace of disappointment. He hated sharing a bed with January. They were like brother and sister.

  “So, um, I hear you have some questions about nightlife?” Nigel said as he pondered over the empty seat next to January.

  “Please, Nigel, sit.” Xavier pulled out the chair. “Tell me…I mean…tell us…any good clubs in town?”

  “Well…I’m not really a club person, if you will,” he began, “but I’ve heard some guests say that they’ve had fun at…The Cage?”

  “The Cage, it is!” Phone in hand, Xavier popped up from the table and reached for the bottle of wine to fill January’s glass. “Oh, wait…”

  January looked to Nigel with some surprise as Xavier quickly disappeared and then came back with an empty wine glass. He must have gone into the kitchen and asked Clarissa for one. “I need to make a phone call to the office back in Paris. I’ll be back in a bit…”

  “But Xav, the office is closed. And…we…are we going to…” Shaking her head, she turned to Nigel as Xavier took off, ignoring her. “Please have a glass with me. And pardon his manners. He’s all over the place sometimes.”

  With an air of indecision, Nigel accepted the glass of wine. Of course, January was delighted by the diversion from her thoughts of Etienne.

  “First time in Provence?” Nigel was like the nerdy boy, forced to attend the seventh-grade dance, and January found his awkwardness amusing.

  “No…” Although she tried, January couldn’t force her previous memories of her trips to the region from her mind. “I live in Paris. Well, part-time in Paris. I have a primary residence in New York. But I grew up in Kansas.”

  She wondered if her rambling was just far too much information, but it had been so long since she’d talked to a single young man like this, she’d forgotten the etiquette.

  “You’ve had quite an interesting life,” he observed.

  Clearly, though, January had to take control of the conversation when his silence stifled their small talk.

  “What about you?”

  “Me? Not quite so fascinating,” he said. “I was born and raised in London—in Kensington. I went to Oxford. Majored in PPE—Politics, Philosophy and Economics. Lived in Paris, for a bit…”

  January noticed how his voice trailed off and how he stared out into the open fields, almost as if he lost himself in reminiscent thoughts of a time long gone.

  “Life changes, though,” he continued and looked her in the eyes. “My dad finally retired from his law practice in London, and mom had these dreams of restoring a chateau and turning it into a business. I guess I needed a break from big cities—for a while, at least. So, I decided to move down here for a bit.”

  From the emotion in his voice, she sensed that his simple move from Paris was more of an escape—almost as if he had run away from something. She got the clear impression that he wasn’t just setting up house in the country to help his parents. However, January didn’t question him. It was none of her business.

  “Well, it’s certainly beautiful here,” she said. “Takes me back to the farm where I grew up. It…sort of makes me miss what I never appreciated before.”

  “You really grew up on an actual farm?”

  His interest was refreshing. She couldn’t remember a time when Etienne was so curious. “I certainly did. We had cows, horses, chickens, goats…a couple of ferrets, and one cranky emu named Daisy.”

  At last, she got him to chuckle. “An emu, did you say?”

  “Daisy used to escape to the neighbor’s farm because my dad was too cheap to patch the fence. My brothers used to have to go and wrangle her home. Oh, we hated her. But she was my father’s favorite pet.” The second she finished the last sip in her glass, Nigel filled it for her. “Oh, this is boring stuff, I’m sure.”

  “No, it’s not, actually,” he said. “It sounds like you had a lot of fun growing up with all those wonderful animals. I only know about horses. And dogs, of course. Mum’s working on the chickens.”

  “I competed a bit in the rodeo circuit as a kid,” she told him.

  “Well, I spent some time doing Equestrian competition. Rodeo would have been a neat experience, I would think. Doing all those tricks?”

  “Oh, I can probably still rope a calf,” she admitted. “So, you still ride?”

  Now, he reached for the bottle and filled his glass to the rim. “I do. Lately, I’ve been giving lessons to the kids around here. It’s been enjoyable.”

  Finally, his face brightened, and January was so damn happy she brought her jodhpurs.

  “And rewarding to pass those skills along,” she added. “Maybe we can go riding sometime this week.”

  Before she could take her words back, she realized that she’d just asked him out. She knew damn well that she was on the rebound and shouldn’t dare to play around, but there was something about Nigel beyond his stunning looks that intrigued her.

  She should have just followed alongside Xavier and made her exit, but now she sat with her Louboutin in her mouth.

  “Well, I’m in the stables most of the day.” That solved the mystery of where he might have been earlier when they checked in. “Feel free to come down. I know the best trails if you’re up for it.”

  “I am,” she said, and he poured yet another round, splitting the last of the bottle between them. “I’ll take you up on that.”

  “You can meet the two ladies in my life—Nellie and Nessa. Nellie is a former Arabian champion, and Nessa…she’s my sweet gray Percheron. She was once a carriage horse in Paris, but she’d been rescued. Somehow, she made her way here.”

  As if she wasn’t already captivated by his somewhat panicky charm, Nigel impressed her with his love of animals. “Aw, she got a chance at a happy ending—just like Lenny.”

  Dammit! The wine made this conversation all too easy.

  Twenty-four hours ago, she sat on her couch, saying the toughest things she’d ever had to say to a man. In just one day, she’d moved on to take an interest in someone else.

  Confusion whirled through her mind. She was grieving, she tried to convince herself. This silly repartee with Nigel was all just a mere fantasy of a vacation romance. She had to pull herself out of this reverie—or make peace with the fact that perhaps she didn’t love Etienne as much as she thought.

  “Lenny is your rabbit?” he asked, breaking her thoughts.

  “She is.”

  As he nodded, his smile lingered. “Would you…would you like to meet Nellie and Nessa
?”

  “Sure…wait…now?”

  “Yes, I’d be happy to take you to the stables,” he said as he grimaced at the small mess they’d made of his mother’s table. “Just let me clean up here quickly, and—”

  “No, wait…I mean…”

  Watching him as he scurried to pick up the empty bottle and glasses, January wondered why the hell she attempted to prevent herself from doing something she wanted to do. Fuck you, French douchebag, she thought, I’m going for a walk in the woods with an Englishman half your fucking age!

  Now, she had no one to answer to but herself.

  “I’d love to meet the ladies,” she said. “Can I help you with that first?”

  “No, it’s all good. Would Xavier like to join us?”

  “Nah. He’s a city boy…” And January was curious as to where this evening alone with Nigel would lead her.

  One problem, however, presented itself.

  “Oh, dear, we’ve got to walk through the field,” Nigel warned her, as he stared at her spike heels. “Shall I wait while you change those for some flats?”

  “Nope!” January slipped off her stilettos to place them side-by-side on the patio. “I told you—I grew up on a farm. I never wore shoes as a kid, and my parents encouraged it.”

  Looking down at her perfectly pedicured feet, Nigel shook his head. “I don’t know about this. Are you sure, January?”

  There was something so dazzling in his gaze that she lost her thoughts for a moment. “Positive. I might be tiny, but you have no idea how tough I am.”

  “Well, then…follow me…”

  Her skills in navigating the rather tall grass and somewhat bumpy terrain impressed Nigel. In fact, as his hands fumbled to circle her waist over a short but steep hill, she held her own.

  “I’d forgotten how pretty the countryside is at night.” Her voice brimmed with glee as she stomped along, following his lead. “Look at that crescent moon—and the stars…”