“The gossip rags have not stopped talking about him and that influencer fiancée of his and their engagement world tour.” Kate pantomimed sticking her finger down her throat and gagging. “She’s been posting about their itinerary nonstop. They were just in Venice for the film festival, and then after Paris they’re heading to Saint-Tropez, I think. Rhys has become a bit of a media whore, but you know that.” She studied my face. “Wait, you really hadn’t heard the news?”

I shrugged. “No, not a peep. I guess I’ve been off the grid these last few weeks.”

“I’m so sorry, Plum. If I knew, I would’ve said something earlier when his name came up. I assumed you were fine with it and had moved on with Bastien. Look, from the little I know, Rhys was a toxic figure in your life.” She continued, “I’m not trying to diminish what the two of you had together, but sometimes when the past comes calling, it’s best not to answer, especially if it has nothing new to say.”

“Or sold your sex tape.”

She put her arm around me and squeezed the top of my shoulder. “Yeah, that too.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re right, it’s the same old Rhys new Rhys who cares more about the red carpet outside the party than the reason for the party itself.” My head shot up. “Oh my God, I just realized, the hotel’s going to be swarming with paparazzi later, if it isn’t already? How can I face them?” I looked around the spa. “I suppose I could be happy making a life and home down here. The towel closet looks cozy, and the cucumber water’s really good.”

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to go inside and enjoy the Signature Serum Hydro Glow Facial, followed by the Hot Basalt Stone Massage, and then we’ll emerge ready to face whatever awaits us upstairs.”

“Us?”

“Didn’t you know? I’m ride or die, baby.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

The engagement party hadn’t even started yet, and already George V was positively swarming with paparazzi. The last thing I wanted was to drag Kate into the mud with me, so after the spa, I returned to my room and packed up my things. I left a note for Elliott and Kate with the front desk, letting them know I decided to return to Maubec earlier than planned, and headed straight to the station to catch the next train to Provence, which unfortunately wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

A little over five hours later, I stepped out onto the train platform in Avignon, the closest stop to Maubec, and still almost forty-five minutes away by car from the inn. I hadn’t thought my plan through very well. It was almost 1:00 a.m., and the station was practically deserted. I wouldn’t dare text or call Gervais. This was my mess, and I wasn’t waking the poor man before a long day of work. The small line of eager taxis usually circling the busy train station early in the morning was nowhere to be found, and my Uber app was showing zero drivers available within a fifty-kilometer radius. My hands shook as all the saliva drained from my mouth.

Just as the realization of my situation (and subsequent panic) was settling in, the bright beam of a Vespa’s headlight lit up the tracks and everything around them. I squinted into the light and heard my name being called out from the bike.

“Bastien?” I called back.

“Ouais, are you alright?”

I hurried down the platform steps toward the light. “I’m fine. I’m relieved to see you, but I’m fine. What are you doing here? How did you even know I was coming in?”

Bastien turned off the bike’s engine and removed his helmet. “You should not be here so late on your own. It isn’t safe. What made you do such a foolish thing?”

He answered my questions with more questions, but honestly, I didn’t care. I guessed Kate called him or texted him. The main thing was that he was here and I wasn’t stranded. My knight in worn leather. “Long story, but Rhys showed up at our hotel apparently to promote a new film or something, and as you can imagine, a horde of paparazzi followed. I . . . I just had to get out of Paris.”

“Rhys, your ex-boyfriend? What was he doing at your hotel?”

“I know, it’s too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, right?”

“A coincidence, maybe, but not if he was promoting a film, which is what you said he was doing?”

I went to answer, but the words got caught in a soft sob. “It . . . it . . . the whole thing just made me look like such a fool.” Mortified, I swiped at my lashes and blew out my lips to get myself together.

He took my chin in his hand and swiped his thumb across my cheek to catch a falling tear. “Please don’t cry.” He pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead and then returned to cupping my cheek. “Our show will make him look like the fool, you’ll see. You and I will be shining stars, and this show is going to be . . . how do you say . . . a big hit.” With his fingers in my hair, he pulled me in for a kiss, and I drank in the security of his embrace.

He drew back and said, “This show is going to be something incroyable. Because of you and me together. I can feel it deep inside my bones. I just need you to trust me, trust in us, d’accord?” He squeezed my hands in his and waited with a held breath.

“Yes, okay. D’accord,” I said, pressing one more peck to his lips before a soft, low growl rumbled from my very empty stomach. My hand flew to it, surprised at how loud it’d been. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”

“Oh, we can fix that. I make a life-changing croque Monsieur. The secret is to mix a little honey in with the Dijon mustard. Hop on.” He patted the back of his bike and handed me the spare helmet. His ability to turn such a shit night into something somewhat promising was more than appreciated, it was needed.

“At this point, I’m so delirious, I’d settle for a can of SpaghettiOs.”

“Excusez-moi?” He quickly snatched the helmet away as I went to take it and offered me a mischievous grin instead. “SpaghettiOs?! Quel blasphme!” He tsked his tongue disapprovingly and re-offered me the helmet with a playful grin. “Mademoiselle, I would be happy to take you on this bike back to my house so long as you never say the word SpaghettiOs in my presence again.”

“Deal,” I said as we locked eyes over me taking the helmet from him.

It was nearing 2:00 a.m. when we pulled into a spot in front of Bastien’s building. A starry night awash in a moonlit glow spilled over the horizon. With the exception of the crescendo of buzzing cicadas characteristic of midsummer, the stillness of Avignon made it even more magical. Bastien led me up three flights of stairs until we reached his front door. Before inserting the key, he pulled me up the last few steps to the platform and turned me so my back pressed against the door. He gently swept the hair from my shoulders, his fingers grazing my skin with meticulous attention, and kissed the side of my neck. A soft nibble of my earlobe made the stairwell spin, but I stayed upright, supported by his weight against me.

He pulled back and cupped my face in his hands, leaving me breathless. “I missed you,” he breathed.

“I was only gone for a day.”

“Well, whatever it has been, all I know is I have very much been enjoying my time with you. I feel like we are really building something here, ma cherie, non?”

This time I reached for him, placing my hands on his chest. “I just can’t believe you’re real. You’re thoughtful and considerate. You’re always one step ahead, and you always know just what to say. I mean, you came to pick me up at the train station. At one a.m.! I was stranded and alone, and you appeared out of nowhere. I . . . I can’t tell you what that means to me. Rhys would never have done that unless there was a photo op at the other end.” My eyes shifted away from his, tears brimming and threatening to spill over. I kissed him sweetly before taking the key from his fingers and slipping it into the lock. I reached for his hand and pulled him inside.

His apartment was spacious, but I couldn’t make out much more than outlines of furniture in the darkness while we fumbled toward Bastien’s bedroom. As we bounced off one wall of the corridor and then the other, he kissed me deeply, the pressure of his hard body against mine pushing me farther into the living room as he tugged off my shirt in one fluid motion. I spun him around so that I was now walking forward and him backward toward the bedroom, unbuckling his belt along the way. Between urgent kisses and clothing confetti, we stumbled our way down the hallway until we tumbled onto his bed.

Bastien lay on top of me, his eyes never breaking contact. “Are you sure, ma cherie? Is this really what you want? I heard what you said the other day, and we can wait. I will wait.” He caressed the side of my face with a gentle touch. I smiled widely and rolled him over, now straddling his hips and hovering over his devilishly sexy face. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, and then I kissed him hard and scooted down his body to press my lips along the column of his throat. I turned my cheek and rested my head against his chest. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, each thump like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

My mind drifted first to Rhys and how the shock of seeing him just a few hours earlier hadn’t quite worn off yet. Then to Elliott. Despite all our misunderstandings, all our fiery debates, there was something about our exchanges that felt more honest and real than any other relationship I could remember. And there was Bastien. If you typed holiday fling into the Google search bar, I was pretty certain his image would pop up. Handsome, fun, charming, with a sexy accent to boot. He was exactly the type of man you’d want to get under in an effort to get over somebody else. But maybe what we had could be more? One thing, though, I knew for sure: sleeping together before I fully figured that out would be the quickest route to never really knowing.

Bastien ran a hand through my hair, snapping me into the present. I trailed kisses back up his neck until we were eye to eye. “Is it okay if we just sleep together, with you just holding me tonight? Would that be okay?”

He kissed my forehead, and I pressed my eyes closed at the sensation of his warm lips on my skin. “But of course, ma cherie. I would love nothing more than to be your biggest spoon.” Grinning, he took me in his arms and we rolled onto our sides, so that I was safely curled against his chest. Together, our breaths fell into a deep relaxation and a steady rhythm of soft snores.

Chapter Twenty-Six

After a few hours of sleep tucked in the crook of Bastien’s arm, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee floating through the apartment woke me before I’d even opened my eyes. I squinted against the light streaming through the large bedroom window and reached for Bastien, whose side of the bed was empty. I sat up just in time to see him enter the room holding two steaming mugs and wearing nothing but a smile.

He handed me a cup and climbed back into bed, nuzzling in close and giving me a kiss on the cheek before taking a sip of his coffee.

I moaned against his kisses and nudged against him playfully. “As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day, we’d better get going. This château is nowhere near ready, and if we—”

“Non, non, non,” he interrupted. “We have a common phrase here in Provence, ‘Il ne fait pas bon de travailler quand la cigale chante.’ Meaning, ‘It’s not good to work when the cicada is singing.’” He took my cup from me and set them both on the nightstand before rolling over to snuggle me close. His dark hair smelled like rosemary shampoo and rich, bright notes of citrusy bodywash. He smelled good enough to taste. As if reading my mind, he tucked his head in the crook of my neck and slid his hand across my stomach until it curved to cup my hips, pulling me close to kiss me again.

I sighed against his mouth. “It’s hard to believe that yesterday I was in Paris with Rhys, and now, as if by magic or time machine, I’m here with you.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “You didn’t tell me much about what happened. Actually, we didn’t talk much at all last night.” He smirked. “Do you want to tell me about it now?”

I stared at the ceiling, not sure if I wanted to get into it. “Yes and no. Long story short, somehow Rhys showed up at the same hotel where we were staying, which I know in my bones was no coincidence. We had a very public and very awkward encounter with his new fiancée, and Elliott captured it all on camera.” I didn’t want to allow it to work me up, but by the anxiety building in my chest, I knew it was already too late. My throat tightened, and I felt the threat of tears.

Bastien stayed quiet for a moment. I looked over at him to make sure he didn’t doze off during my rant. He was awake, just thinking. “Honestly, Plum, I know you’re upset, but if you take your emotion out of it, I don’t think Elliott did anything wrong. He did his job. It’s what he’s paid to do. To film you, non? I don’t think it was personal.”

I sprang up onto my elbow and said, “I’m sorry. You’re defending him?”

“Well, yes, I think I am. He was asked to go to Paris for work to capture candid moments of you around town as promo for the show. It’s exactly what he did. I don’t really see the problem.” He pursed his lips together and shrugged. “Maybe give Elliott a break. At least he cared enough to text me to make sure you got home safely in the middle of the night. That has to count for something. Really, if anything, you should thank him. I shudder to think what could have happened to you at an abandoned train station all alone at that hour.”