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She swallowed. "I feel like I'm forcing you to be here. I…we can stay at your place and—"
"But you don't like it."
She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Duncan. It's so nice, don't get me wrong, but it's not who I am. There's just so much change in my life that I need to keep myself grounded."
"And it's easier for you to get to work as well." Her business was downstairs. Talk about a short commute.
She nodded.
I was an ass for not having thought ofhertravel time to Délices d'Elsa from my apartment. How had she gotten to work during the week I’d abandoned her? She didn't have a car. Did she take the metro? Damn it!
"What time do you open Délices d'Elsa in the morning?"
"Six thirty, but I get there around four to start baking." She looked at her wristwatch and rose.
"Four? That's the middle of the night," I growled.
She chuckled. "I know, but that's the life of a baker. In my defense, I'm asleep by nine at the latest."
"Not a party animal?"
"Not in the least. On the days Thierry opens, I sometimes go out with Angelique and other friends the evening before. They all live in the apartment building."
I quirked an eyebrow. "This Angelique is the—"
"Yes. She's the escort who you had bookedthatnight."
She took our empty salad plates away and left them in the sink. She didn't have a dishwasher, I noted.
She arranged mashed potatoes on the plates and added pieces of chicken cooked in red wine on top of it. She wiped her hands on her apron and then, from a small glass bowl, sprinkled chopped parsley on the plate. She set the plate in front of me.
"Fucking hell, baby, you can cook," I exclaimed after the first few bites. I'd eaten at restaurants around the world. I appreciated good food, and still, this simple French country dish was spectacular.
She glowed at the praise. "I'm so happy you like my food."
I stroked her cheek with a finger. "I like a lot of things about you, Elsa."
She blushed, and my dick went from half to full mast.
"Ah, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon at two. Would you…ah—"
"Yes." I gripped her hand then. "Yes,please."
"Okay." Her face was bright like I'd given her a Chanel necklace.
"We can go together," I quickly said. "Do you have Wi-Fi?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "Here? No. The apartment is too old for that sort of thing. We're lucky to have electricity and plumbing."
"Shit," I muttered.
She gently punched me in the shoulder. "Yes, we have Wi-Fi. Just because this isn't Avenue Montaigne doesn't mean it's uncivilized. Amazon even delivers here."
I took the fist she struck me with and kissed it. "I'll work from here in the morning, and then we can go together."
"You can work at Délices d'Elsa if you like. Lots of people do that. We have Wi-Fi there, too."
There was mischief in her eyes, and it warmed my heart. I had thought I'd screwed it up with her, but she was still here, still joking with me, stillmine.
