“What’s the point, though?”I hiss at Madi, holding her hand to prevent her from opening the door. “I’m leaving in a week.”
“A week and a half,” Madi hisses right back. “And the point isfun. Sound familiar?” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. My, how the tides have turned!” She angles her body toward Jack. “Help me out here. You’re the king of dating for fun. Tell Siena she should go out with Philippe.”
Jack’s mouth slides open, wordless. I don’t know whether to laugh or try to save him.
He chuckles. “Yeah, you should go. Have some fun. It’s just one date. Not a big deal.”
Not a big deal.That’s exactly how he described what happened between us last night—a prime example of himdating for fun, I guess. The thing is, to me, itwasa big deal. Not just because I feel terrible for betraying Madi’s trust, but because kissing Jack was like taking the lid off a pot of water and realizing that it’s boiling. Hearing him encourage me to go out with Philippe feels a lot like he just threw that bubbling water on my heart.
He’s being smart, though. Whatever happened between Jack and me last night, it can’t happen again. Of all the ways I could screw up Madi’s wedding, messing around with her brother is numero uno.
Maybe turning up the temperature with Philippe will help me realign my priorities—and make me think less about kissing Jack a third time.
I open the door, and Philippe appears on the other side. His gaze moves to Madi behind me, and he holds out a key. “Voilà,madame. Your room is ready for you to use whenever you please.”
“Thank you,” Madi says, taking the key from him. She looks back at Rémy. “We should probably get you ready for your interview, right?” She glances at me and winks as she puts out her hand for Rémy’s. “Maybe we can come by afterward and talk about the schedule for the week?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I say, avoiding Jack’s eye and how quickly my heart is beating while Philippe waits for the opportunity to talk to me.
Madi and Rémy leave, and there’s an awkward moment when Jack leans on the table and Philippe and I look at each other and then him.
“Oh, right!” Jack stands up. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He wags his eyebrows at me, then heads to his room, leaving me alone with Philippe.
* * *
Ten minutes later,Philippe opens the door for me to head into the cottage. The chivalry is noted and appreciated, but in some ways, it makes me feel weird. It’s something I’m not used to, which makes me think there are probably a bunch of peasanty things I do that will peg me for the commoner I am. Not just a commoner—a bit of a failed one. Philippe’s family must have done some pretty impressive stuff back in the day to land—and keep—a chateau, while I couldn’t even get a shoo-in candidate to win in the primaries for local office.
Jack is cutting up strawberries at the kitchen counter with his back toward me as I turn to close the door. But Philippe is still standing there, which is exactly what I meant. What is the proper etiquette for this scenario? I’m not used to being asked to go for a stroll on castle grounds as part of the whole asking-on-a-date thing. Most guys just shoot a text or, if they’re old school, call me. If they’re real jerks, they’ll send me an unsolicited picture by DM.
Maybe there’s something to be said about a return to King Arthur days. Though, on second thought, I don’t know that I’d prefer being sold to the highest bidder.
“Until tomorrow night, then,” Philippe says with a handsome smile.
“Until tomorrow night.” Apparently, I’m embracing the formality of this whole thing, which is good because Philippe reaches for my hand and plants a kiss on the back of it.
I force a smile because I forgot my fan and haven’t fluttered my lashes in, like, well, ever. I also don’t have a servant to shut the door, so I have to do it myself.
After I do, I take in a big breath and turn around.
Jack is grinning at me, his strawberry-juice covered knife in hand.
“You look like you just stepped off the set of a slasher movie.”
He glances at the knife, then brings it to his mouth and licks the edge slowly. It would be chilling except for the fact that he can’t keep a straight face to save his life.
I shake my head. “You’re going to cut yourself, and then it’ll berealblood on the knife.” I make my way toward my room, wondering whether it’s okay to wear my maid of honor dress to a date. It’s the only formalwear I brought, but what if I spill on it?
No, notwhat if? I absolutely will.
“You’re really not going to tell me how it went?”
I stop in my tracks. I had hoped to avoid this. The prospect of Jack teasing me about a date with Philippe isn’t all that appetizing, and I suspect it’s because I don’twanthim to be able to tease me about it. For some dumb reason, I want him to be sad about it.
I shrug. “It went fine.”
He raises his eyebrows, prompting me to expound.
“It’s not a big deal, right?” I immediately regret the choice to echo his words from earlier. It sounds so bitter, and I’mnotbitter. Or at least not much. I’m sixty-five percent dark chocolate. Borderline bitter.
