My heart thundered, and my stomach flipped for more than one reason. “That sounds like a date.” I wrinkled my nose in jest. “I don’t think that’s allowed. Someone might report me to my boss.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Consider it research. Eating someplace off the beaten path will provide a little contrast from all the tourist-centric cafés near the water.” He swung an arm in the direction of the pristine beauty of Nice below.
“Yeah, this is awful. I’m glad we’re getting away.”
He nudged me in the ribs for my sarcasm, and my arm rose on instinct to lock with his. Before I could pull away, he bent his elbow further and tugged me close.
“I wouldn’t worry about your boss,” he added quietly. “I’m confident he would approve.”
We walked back to our hotel in twilight and companionable silence, arms intertwined, and my heart screaming like a schoolgirl.
I entered the big white classroom with Lucas by my side the next morning. Our matching white chef’s hats and jackets were exactly the same, yet comically different. I hustled along beside him, avoiding curious stares from a handful of classmates in identical garb.
“I can’t believe they got my size this wrong,” I said. “I look ridiculous. Is this for a giant?”
He stifled a laugh. “This may be partially my fault,” he said. “I originally thought John would attend the classes with me. I guess I forgot to change the uniform order when I updated the attendees.”
“John?” I squeaked, sleeves flapping like a baby bird. “You mean the man with at least eight inches and a hundred pounds on me? That John?”
Lucas lost his sober expression and burst into laughter.
I shoved the sinking chef’s hat back up my forehead so I could see.
When he nodded emphatically, I whacked him with the length of my sleeve.
“Then this is not partially your fault, you goofball,” I whisper-screamed as he ran away. “This is all your fault.”
The workstations were tall and sturdy, like the ones high school chemistry students stood behind, except these, like everything else in the cavernous culinary arts classroom, were white.
Everything, everywhere, was white.
Lucas watched as I shoved my sleeves up on repeat. “I think it’s nice that we match,” he said.
“We do not match. We look like a pair of marshmallows, but a giant smashed one of us into a puddle.” I pinched the sides of my jacket and tugged them wide for emphasis.
Lucas sighed and reached for me.
I stilled, waiting to see what he’d do.
“Here,” he said. “Stop that. You’ll be covered in food if you don’t roll up these sleeves.” He took one of my arms between his hands and neatly rolled the stark-white material.
Electricity zigzagged through the air between us as he worked.
He made eye contact as he secured the fabric behind my crooked elbow. When he reached for my other arm with abundant caution, I suspected he felt the energy too. I hadn’t been touched by a man other than Robert since I was still a kid, younger than Camilla. Everything about this felt different. I felt cared for, treasured. Precious.
The urge to grab onto him with both hands was powerful. To be held by this man. To be kissed—
Lucas finished rolling up my sleeve, then set me free.
I pulled in a short, shuddering breath and hoped he didn’t notice.
A few minutes later, a dozen more students in well-fitting uniforms filed into the room like a wave, choosing their tables until no open spots remained.
I peeked at the newcomers’ faces, eager to stop myself from staring at Lucas.
Were any of them from America? Did everyone speak English?
Oh, god.Was I supposed to speak French?
