Page 23 of Playing Mr. Perfect

She laughs softly. “We’re walking.”

“Even better. I can’t wait to see what kind of fun awaits us.”

Chapter Seven

Clay

The air is brisk, the sidewalks and streets are busy, and the sky is clear as we make our way to the first stop on our itinerary, Shakespeare and Company. Amber and Dash are leading the pack, and Amber is giving us a history lesson on the historic bookstore. “The original Shakespeare and Company bookstore was founded in 1919 by Sylvia Beach as a gathering place for expat writers like Joyce, Hemingway, and Stein, and for famed French writers, too. The shop we’re going to see was founded in 1951 by George Whitman, and the original name was Le Mistral…”

Axsel is texting, and tossing out comments as if he’s listening. Brindle and Morgyn are holding hands with their husbands, talking quietly among themselves, and Pepper and I are bringing up the rear.

We’re in a city full of old-world charm, with intricate architecture and an aura all its own. I should be listening to every word Amber says, getting lost in the history and the beauty of our surroundings, but it can’t even begin to hold my attention the way Pepper does. She looks beautiful in her navy peacoat, her cheeks pink from the chilly air, her eyes a little guarded. I know she’s unsure whether she can trust my word to keep our secret, but I’m working on that.

“You can hold my hand if you want,” I offer, and she gives me a pointed look. “Friends hold hands. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

She looks amused. “No, thank you.”

“Have it your way. It’s just that your sisters seem happier when they’re holding their husbands’ hands, and I didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“That’s awfully chivalrous of you.”

“If you change your mind, just let me know. Have you been to Paris before?”

“No. This is my first time.”

“What do you think of it so far?”

Her gaze sweeps over the cobblestone street and surrounding buildings as we walk down the sidewalk. “The architecture is pretty, and I like the cobblestone streets, but walking on them in heels would be nearly impossible. To be honest, I don’t get why everyone thinks it’s so romantic.”

“What makes a place romantic isn’t what it looks like. It has to do with who you’re with and how you feel when you’re with them.”

“Well, yeah. Feeling romantic is a chemical reaction to pleasurable experiences based on a reward system.”

“By that definition, last night was romantic.”

“I can’t comment on things that didn’t happen,” she says teasingly. “But being turned on is different from feeling romantic. There are overlaps, of course, but desire is driven by hormones, and attraction is created by dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin. Oxytocin and vasopressin mediate the reaction and the attachment.”

I chuckle and shake my head. She’s so fucking adorable.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “Sometimes I forget a simple answer is enough.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s sexy as hell that you know all that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you think Paris is romantic?”

“I think the whole world can be romantic. To me, romance is catching the scent of your lover’s perfume and thinking of all the things you want to do for them, with them, and to them. It’s holding hands as you walk down the street without needing to talk because just being together is enough. It’s learning the little things about someone you care for and then making the effort to do them and having such a good time together, you want the moments to last forever.”

Her brow furrows, and she looks at me like I’ve confused her.

“What?”

“I didn’t take you as a romantic guy.”

“I told you there was more to me than just an orgasm donor.”

She gives me an imploring look and glances at the others.

“Don’t worry, Reckless,” I say quietly. “They’re all feeling too romantic with each other to listen to us. Except Axsel, but he’s sidetracked with his phone. I’ll try to be more careful with what I say.”