AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nah, I know the way. Thanks, though.” I jogged around her. So we were going to do this outside? Huh. That seemed kind of spicy for a man as private as Henri, but hey, I was down.
Moving through the lavish home, I stepped out onto the back porch—or the veranda as they called it here—and saw Madame in her usual dark dress, practical shoes, and prim white apron. She nodded politely. Henri was seated at a small metal table, dark green wrought iron, and rose when he saw me. He didn’t look ready to fuck. Why was he not naked and bent over the table with the platter of treats on his back for me to eat to keep up my energy while we went at it?
“Philip, please, sit down. I need to speak with you. Madame, you may serve now.” Henri pulled out a low-back seat that matched the table, the metal legs grating on the smooth concrete.
She did as asked, removing lids off platters containing baked fillets of fish, some red potatoes with parsley, and corn with little bits of red peppers. Oh, and a dish with what looked to be breakfast burritos. And, because she is a gem, Madame had made fresh sweet treats.
“Oh damn, fresh macrons!” I gushed and got that look from Henri.
“No, dear, they are macarons. Macron is the president of France.” He smiled as he spoke and waved at the empty chair.
“Oh right, well, both are sexy,” I countered as I sat down. Madame left. Barnaby was nowhere to be seen, and the only sounds were that of birds and a brisk wind wuthering through the trees. Henri was without his glasses as some clouds had blown in. His blue gaze seemed worried. “I thought we were going to get down and dirty for lunch.”
He chuckled as he served me a fish fillet. My stomach rumbled loudly. “Now your reply makes more sense. No, sadly, we are not having a lunchtime rendezvous.”
Madame showed up with two mugs of icy cold beer on a tray. I cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as the drinks were delivered in silence. She then left us to our meal.
“I had Madame pick up some Kronenberg 1664 for us to have with meals as you do not care overly much for wine,” Henri explained. “I think you will enjoy it. While it is a bit fruity, there is a mild bitterness from the hops and coriander. Let me know if you like it, yes?”
“Sure, yeah.” I took a sip. Icy cold and delicious. “Good stuff. Okay, so what is going on here? Did someone die? Is Ma okay? Is it Grandma?”
“Non, no, it is not anything like that,” Henri rushed to say. I exhaled in relief. “No, they are fine. Enjoying their day out, the last I heard from Barnaby. No, darling, it is something to do with your apartment.”
“Oh yeah?” I was sort of taken aback. How did he know about my place when I’d not been able to get my shitfaced landlord to reply to any of my calls, texts, or emails. “Did you drive by or something?”
“No, but I might have run into your landlord at the gas station.”
“I love that you now have a thing for breakfast burritos,” I confessed, leaning up to grab one of the wrapped beauties.
“Yes, well, you are rubbing off on me in many ways,” he admitted, his smile missing even though his words were lighthearted. “I did not know the man in front of me in line, but he was buying quantities of lottery scratch-off tickets and bragging about how today was his lucky day as he had sold off a bothersome property.”
The burrito that was halfway to my mouth—it was going to be the appetizer for the rest of the meal—froze four inches from my lips.
“He did what now?” I enquired gruffly.
“I am sorry, but he seems to have sold the property out from under you,” he said, his gaze sad. “But there is no way he can do this for you and the others have leases which I am sure have stipulations and provisos that—”
“Okay, well, about that. Me and my neighbor didn’t really have a lease, per se.” I lowered my burrito, my appetite waning.
Henri’s blond brows rose. “What? How is this possible?”
“Well, I mean, it was just me and old Mr. Fullbright living there.” Henri gaped. “I know I should have gotten something in writing, but Bruce was good about things like that. Said they weren’t really necessary as we were all honest sorts.”
“Honest sorts do not simply sell a property that people call home without at least discussing it with their renters,” Henri snapped, fire now in those sapphire pools. It was kind of sexy to see him riled up, a sight that always lit my fuse, but right now, my fuse was not sparking.
“Yeah, no, that’s true, but it is what it is. It’s shitty. I wonder what Mr. Fullbright is going to do. He’s been in that apartment since the 80s.” I reached for my beer.
“You should eat as well,” Henri pointed out, so I ripped off a bite of my burrito, chewed, and swallowed, then washed it down with fancy French beer. “Good, now, I can have my lawyers look into things for you.”
“Thanks, but you don’t got to do that. It’s my fault for being such a mook and not getting legal shit on paper.”
“You, my dear, are not a mook. You are trusting, is all.” He reached over the table to take my hand. I loved how warm his touch always seemed to be. “I will have them speak to this cretin, who I am sure will remember me as I spoke most rudely to him.”
“Yeah, you cussed him out?”
“Oui, in French and English. I also spoke poorly about his dog.”
That made me roar. Henri grinned at me. I gave his hand a squeeze. “I love that. And that you got all Flushing in his face. You’re picking up my bad habits, baby. Next, you’ll be wearing cargo shorts with holes in the pockets.”
