“Yes! You, Cateline Berghier. Don’t think for one minute that you’re going to take my man.”
My jaw lowers, but I should’ve known it would only be a matter of time before one of Wolf’s women caught up with him, er, me.
33
CONNOR
The team chant pounds in my ears.It ain’t over ‘til we’ve won. Even though Cateline and Gaston looked like the perfect pair when they danced briefly—he’s tall and statuesque and she’s petite and made of smooth lines—and are probably meant to be together, I’m going to crush the guy.
After he made his move on Cat, he turned to me like he was ready to brawl before his friends lugged him away. All I see is red, but without Cat in sight to stop me, I’m going to track him down and...
A slender figure with dark hair streaks into my periphery. Someone in pink chases her while aiming a stream of something white in her direction. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of the strange scene. Is this some kind of French engagement tradition?
Cat does a lap around the yard, then rushes toward me and hollers, “Call her off. I didn’t mean to come between you.”
Frozen with confusion, from the other direction, a thick figure barrels into our midst before dodging me. Gaston races toward the river while the woman continues to chase Cat, spraying what I think is shaving cream.
Guests holler in French, but I can’t understand a word of it. Some cheer while others shake their fists. This must be a foreign custom. Maybe?
“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping someone can translate.
An older woman with slick silver hair and glasses pinching the end of her nose says, “Lover’s quarrel.” Her accent is thick.
“That’s what I was afraid of, but I don’t understand why Gaston is running away from Cat.” At least, that’s what it looks like.
“Ah, yes, you’re the lucky American gentleman. Regrettably, I was late arriving and missed the announcement.” She looks me up and down.
By my estimate, she’s barely five feet tall, but her smile is as tall as a cathedral’s spire.
“The football player?” she asks.
“That’s me.”
She makes a slight grunting sound of consternation. “Then you may as well know a bit about the family.” Even though she has a strong accent, her English is perfect. Then I notice her dark, sharp eyes.
“Are you Cateline’s grandmother?”
“Non. I was her very first ballet teacher when she still wore a smile on her face with every arabesque. Sadly, that faded the more her mother pushed her. She lost the love for it, I’m afraid. But she was quite the talent. My best student, and not only because she was perfect. She also had the most fun.”
“I’ve never seen her dance.”
“Oh, it is a sight to behold. A gift for the senses, really.”
“It’s too bad she doesn’t still dance.”
“Yes, indeed. Dauphin—Cateline’s mother—and her sister were fiercely competitive in everything. I don’t know why—same parents, same upbringing. They say every child comes with their own personality. Dauphin is stubborn, envious, bitter.”
“Yeah, I can relate.”
“You have children?” she asks, surprised.
“No, my brother and I, major rivals.”
“Ah, then you understand the situation. However, it’s only Dauphin that carries on the competition. It hasn’t been easy for Cateline. I don’t think she always realizes what she’s worth. Do you?”
“Yes, she’s worth the sun, moon, and stars. Everything.”
The older woman laughs. “You sound like a poet, not a football player.”
