by Raine Miller
Reid nodded gravely.
I followed her very specific instructions. "How much for three pads of this fine sketching paper, ma'am?"
She finally cracked the beginnings of a smile when she gave me the total for my purchase.
We waited until we were outside before the congratulatory knuckle tap. Then Reid stepped back and leaned on the wall of the store, that annoying debonair-Southern-gentleman act of his in full fucking swing and asked me the question.
"So, you want to tell me why you're stuck on this girl, Gage?"
I jostled the bag holding the three sketchpads I'd just bought for Giselle and shook my head.
"No. I'm not stuck on her. It's…only that we got separated…and I just want to make sure she's okay. She hurt her foot." The truth—mostly.
Reid nodded with the air of someone who didn't believe a word I'd said but would pretend to buy it for my sake anyway. Clapping his hand on my back, he said, "I'll leave you to it then. Take care of yourself, brother."
I gave him a shoulder bump. "You too. Thanks for wooing the info out of the crazy old bat for me. I owe you one."
After he left, it gradually dawned on me that our hasty victory wasn't exactly one. I hadn't gotten Giselle's phone number as I'd hoped. I'd gotten her address, which demanded a very different commitment—and potentially different interpretation by Giselle herself. Although she had seemed reckless and easygoing in some ways, what if she thought me showing up at her place unannounced was creepy and stalkerish?
Reading the address I'd recorded on my phone, I squared my shoulders. Although the normal way of getting Giselle's number and shooting her a call or a text would have been preferable, I didn't have that option. And it wasn’t acceptable to not see her again. I felt something for her and wanted to explore what that might be. Even though I have no clue if she feels anything for me. It was either this or nothing.
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I set off for home. If worst came to worst, it would be the same as me doing nothing at all—and never seeing someone who brought unexpected light into my life again. And that feels terribly wrong.
I waited until the next morning.
It wasn't that far so I walked, mulling over my nonchalance about her to Reid, and feeling annoyed with myself. Why couldn't I have admitted that I'd had a great time with Giselle and wanted to see her again? What was the big deal?
Instinctively, I avoided answering my own question. Something told me I wouldn't like the answer. Already, the lengths I'd gone to see this French girl again was unsettling. I didn’t pursue. I didn’t put myself out unless it was for my business. So, why her?
A quick ten minutes later I was walking down Bluff Lane, grinning as I took in the pastel, low-lying structures. Of course Giselle would be staying on Rainbow Row. I should've guessed.
I'd made it to 10 Clair Creek when I saw her. Headed straight for me and looking just as beautiful as I remembered. Because the memory of her is something permanent now. She was wearing a short yellow dress instead of a blue one, but her long lovely legs looked just as gorgeous regardless of the color. I had my cock buried between those lovely legs. The frown she also wore once she recognized me didn’t retract from her beauty. Don't fuck this up. No matter what.
"Giselle."
"Gage."
Her cheeks had a sun-kissed hue.
"I am—"
"I know I—"
Speaking at the same time, we broke off, laughing.
"I'm so sorry about yesterday," she said quickly. "When I woke up, you looked so deep in sleep, I would not allow myself to disturb you. It was better for me to go quietly…I felt I'd caused you enough trouble already."
I nodded, digesting her words. They made sense, although they still weren't exactly satisfying. "I understand I guess. I wanted to see you again, and I was concerned about you leaving without telling me especially when you were hurt. I was worried about you." I looked at her foot, relieved to see my pink marshmallow bandage had been replaced with a discreet flesh-colored Band-Aid. Her toenails were now a similar pink though. Pretty feet…pretty girl. So fuckin’ pretty. "How are you?"
The corner of her lips twitched into a smile. "Such a gentleman you are. And I thank you for asking about my poor toe. It is much improved today, thanks to you."
"I'm glad it's better today. Where are you going right now?" I couldn't resist asking, even though it was clear I was taking a liberty with her she'd not granted me yet.
"Ahh, yes well, I have an important meeting with my landlord right now. I…I cannot be late."
Like a school boy virgin, I blurted, "What would you say to going on a date with me later?"
The beginnings of her smile disappeared just as quickly. She shook her head sadly without looking at me.
"Unfortunately, that may not be a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because...I have reasons."
I searched her face for answers I'd probably never find. But man, I wanted to know her reasons…so badly. Nearby birds chattered cheerily, far-off children squealed in either joy or rage, and something about Giselle's tense stance gave me pause.
It wasn't that she didn't want me here. It was that she did.
I shifted from one foot to another, weighing my options. Pushing her was not only bad manners, but potentially stupid. It could be that my attraction to Giselle was through a fool's rose-colored glasses. But it isn't, and you fucking know it.
"So, that's a no?" I asked.
She gave her head a single shake and then bit down on her bottom lip. "But it is not a yes either."
And, just like that, she continued on her way with me itching to follow along after her.
"Thank you for checking on me, Gage," she said from over her shoulder with a sexy smile.
"My pleasure, Giselle."
It most certainly was.
Instead of feeling rejected on the walk home, I was hopeful. Maybe she hadn't agreed to see me, but she definitely hadn't told me to stay away from her, either.
And if her shyness in my presence was any indication, I figured I might have a chance with her when I showed up for our date in a few hours from now.
Giselle might not be expecting me to show up so soon, but I was going to use the shit out of my element of surprise.
Giselle
Il était l’homme le plus sensuel, le plus exaltant et le plus beau que je n'avais jamais vu, embrassé, et couché avec. Mais il ne pouvait pas être à moi. Probablement ne voulant pas être à moi.
Je voulais porter toute sa tristesse sur mes épaules. Je voulais que Gage me regarde chaque jour avec ses aveuglants yeux bleus. Je voulais ce que je ne pouvais pas obtenir.
N’oublie jamais.
Merde.
~pour vous en anglais~
He was the most sensual, exhilarating, and handsome man I’d ever seen, had ever kissed, ever slept with. But he couldn’t be mine. Probably didn’t want to be mine.
I wanted to take all of his sad onto my shoulders. I wanted to have Gage look at me with those blinding blue eyes daily. I wanted what I could not have.
Never forget.
Shit.
6
Five hours later.
On the fourth knock, she answered the door wearing a sexy garment that could've been a dress or a slip for all I knew, but she looked fucking hot in it. As I'd hoped, she also wore a very surprised look on her beautiful face.
"What are you doing here, Gage?"
"I'm here for our date, Giselle, and to bring you these." I held out the sketchpads I'd bought from Elysium. "I thought you could put them to good use."
"Thank you, how very kind." Her voice softened as she accepted the sketchpads, but then she pursed her lips, looking past me to see my convertible parked in front of her house. "And if I have plans?"
I leaned against the door frame. "I can wait."
Another one of our cheeky staring contests commenced for about a minute before a smile finally graced her face. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."
And, ten minutes later, she emerged from her house sporting the biggest sunhat I'd ever seen. As she settled in the Jag next to me, I took in her headwear's impressive contours. "At least we'll be covered, rain or shine."
With a giggle, Giselle held up her chin at a tilt. "We will see about that." As I pulled onto the road I could feel her stare. "Do I want to know how you got my address, Gage?"
I turned down the radio—Every Woman by The Doors—so I could hear and answer her better. "The art shop," I admitted. "But don't get pissed at the owner. My friend Reid is a real wheeler-dealer."
"Hmm," she said with a brisk nod. "And do I get to find out what exactly our date is for?"
I grinned.
I hadn't even had time to say what we were doing. This whole experience of her—her reaction to me showing up at her doorstep, the incredible dress she had on, the fact she'd readily agreed to come with me, had thrown my whole plan into disarray. My original idea had been to make my pitch at her door: a drive to Magnolia Gardens in my convertible for a picnic.
"How long have you been here again?" I asked.
She tucked a section of flickering hair behind her ear. "Not very polite to answer a question with a question, you know, but…for months now."
"So you've probably heard of Magnolia Gardens then?"
She visibly brightened. "Really?"
I winked before reaching over to tug on her hat. "You're wearing just the attire for it too. We won't need to find a tree to sit under."
Giggling, she turned away, happily admiring the landscape.
Once we were outside of the city and the traffic cleared to basically empty, I opened up the Jag for some real speed. As my foot dug into the gas, the wind picked up. So much so that it threatened to rip off her straw hat completely. Reaching over, I carefully removed it and tucked it under her legs. She smiled at me in thanks.
Feeling the full force of the breeze, she threw her head back and let out a laugh at the sea-blue sky above. "Your car, it's so—"
As the wind whipped her hair behind her, she exhaled on a sigh, "Fantastique."
Once again, the sound of her speaking to me in her native French did something to my insides. "So my car is "fantastique", huh? I'm guessing that means—"
"Silver." Giselle offered helpfully.
For half a second I frowned before seeing her head fall back in that carefree laughter. I shook my head at her. Every damn time with her.
"I could not help it." She smiled wide, showcasing a slight space in between her two front teeth, and then sighed dramatically. "Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry, Gage. Your gullibility is too cute."
I kept my eyes on the road, unsure how I was supposed to manage it after that comment sailed off her lovely lips, but luckily we were almost to the gardens. Everything about Giselle had me on full alert and aware of our…connection. Whether either of us could admit there was a connection was pointless. Because it was definitely present in every exchange between us, spoken or otherwise. The staring contests, the smiles, the laughs, the teasing, the gentle scolding—all part of what pieced us together. It was so unexpected...and refreshing.
I tried paying for both of us once we made our way inside, but Giselle managed to sneak her own admission when I wasn't looking.
"Is that how they do things in France?" I asked, frowning at her insolent little smirk because she'd messed with my plans. "The women pay for everything?"
"Maybe."
My hand closed around her waist as I whispered in her ear, "Don't make me pick you up and carry you there myself as punishment."
She gave me a look that was a little bit teasing and a little bit defiant—and really fucking sexy. "And if I scream and shout for police?"
"I don't know about that. Police here in America aren't the same as in France."
She laughed. "That I do not doubt."
Growing up in Charleston, I'd been to the Gardens at least twenty times over the years, but with Giselle it felt new to me. She had a knack for pointing out the beauty of our natural surroundings—flower, tree, and sky alike—in a way that made me see it with more color. More…vitality.
By the time we'd reached the willow trees, we were both hot and ready to take a break. The shady spot, along with the picnic basket I'd ordered waiting for us on a blanket, was a welcome sight. It was the first time I'd ever arranged a picnic, and I figured I should do it right if I was going to do it at all. Giselle dropped down onto the blanket with so much enthusiasm her hat fell off. I caught it with my hand and handed it back to her. "I hope there is food in that big basket because I am starved. The flowers were a beautiful distraction, but this looks just as lovely to me right now."
"I agree," I said, only I wasn't referring to our scenic spot or the picnic basket. "Why don't you open it and find out."
I could watch her for hours and not get bored. It was the truth. And even though it still shocked the hell out of me, I didn't try to make excuses for the things I felt that I couldn't even name. Honestly, feeling anything at all for a woman I'd known for all of two days was something I never saw coming.
She took my suggestion and opened the lid, revealing wine, cheese, a collection of fruit and other delicious things topped off with a baguette broken in two. "You didn't!" Giselle's delight—her transparent joy—over something as simple as a packed picnic basket only made me want to do more things like this for her. I should be working. I never would have taken days off like this for Cassidy, but for Giselle… She was unreserved with her smiles, happy with simplicity, and seemed to find the good in everything. I couldn't get enough of her.
I reached over and snagged one half of the baguette and took a big bite. "You're right, I didn't. Ted's Butcherblock packed it up for me. And you should be really happy about that because I am certain Ted does one hell of a better job than I ever could."
"Well, I shall be grateful to Ted then, because he has made us a beautiful picnic, but thank you, for arranging it."
We spent the next hour eating and laughing while we chatted under a huge old willow tree with branches weeping so low we were pretty much under our own private umbrella. I started asking questions, hoping she might finally tell me something about her life. "So, you really are an artist—like as a job?"
With two fingers, she wiped the crumbs from her lips and swallowed before responding. "Yes, I really am an artist. Now, do not mistake me, I do not, exactly, ‘live large’ as you say. But what I do earn is enough to get by."
"How old are you?"
She giggled. "Even I know that asking a lady her age is a faux pas in any language, but I don't mind telling you I am recently turned twenty-four."
So young. Younger than I thought.
"Apologies for my breach of manners, but I'm just curious how someone so young can be so carefree and yet certain of what they want to do." There was something about Giselle that was so diverse and so physical. Like a wild creature in its natural habitat. Except her natural habitat was everywhere. She knew where she wanted to be and she just…went there.
"What?" she teased with a gentle prod into my ribs. "Is it so surprising in America to see someone doing what they actually want to?"
"A little bit, yes," I admitted. "But I think it's a dying trend though, just chasing safe jobs. Anyway, I do what I like, mostly."
Nibbling on the edge of a triangle of cheese, she looked up with interest. "What is it you do that you mostly like, Gage?"
"I'm a commercial architect, and a partner in a gin distillery with two brothers I've known all my life. I am not as involved in the gin business as my partners, Reeve and Reid Greymont, but my name is on the label."
"Like gin to drink? You make it? What is the name of this special gin, so I can buy it?"
"You don't have to do that. I'll give you a tour of the plant sometime if you're interested. Greymont-Danielson is the name, but our label shows a turquoise ‘G’ and ‘D’ on a hexagon bottle."
"Oh my God, that is you, G & D Gin? You are the ‘
D’ with…Danielson? I have seen it in the shops."
I nodded. "Yeah, I'm in involved with the Charleston plant with Reid. There's a larger one in Wilmington that his brother, Reeve runs. But I am an architect by trade…" I trailed off, not sure why beyond the fact I was in the wide-open outdoors, but yet talking about work felt like the walls were closing in on me.
"And why do you mostly like what you do?" Giselle missed nothing in conversation I'd noticed. She was an excellent listener and very easy to talk to, so the words sort of tumbled out of my mouth.
"It's being here...in Charleston." I popped a grape in my mouth and chewed. Swallowed. Giselle waited patiently for me to continue. "I think maybe I need a change...from some things I'd like to forget. I don't know all the answers, but I might want to leave at some point."
Giselle nodded understandingly. "Even if somewhere is our home, and we love it dearly, that does not mean that staying indefinitely is always right." The brown pools of her eyes reflecting the green boughs of the willow tree swaying all around us looked a bit sorrowful.
"Sounds like you know what you're talking about," I said.
"I suppose…" She began tracing the design in the pattern of the blanket with her fingers.
I closed my hand around hers, and when she looked up at me, I asked, "Why did you come here?"
Her lips parted, as if preparing to say something, but then she diverted her attention back to the picnic basket and said, "I do hope Ted has packed us something lovely for dessert."
She doesn't want to tell you.
So, I decided to leave her alone. After all, Giselle and I didn't really know each other, and I still hadn't even told her about…