“Gracie, what are you having?” Jackson calls from a few meters away.
“Cherry, please,” I call back, realizing that he’s at the front of the queue.
The next thing I know, Étienne is marching me around the corner of the building, out of sight. He doesn’t look at all happy.
“Iaskedyou not to bring attention to it,” he states coldly.
“I’ve known Albert for over twenty years,” I reply firmly,standing my ground. “Iknewthat he’d be open to suggestions. He actually gave your mother permission to paint Sainte Églantine in the first place. He’s kind. He’s decent. He’ll do the right thing by her.” He looks at me doubtfully and I insist, “He will! He’s agreed to do up the parkland and the pavilion so the public can see her artwork again.”
Étienne stares at me and then he takes a step backward, looking torn.
“Please come and say hi to them,” I implore. “I’d love you to meet Mellie,” I add.
His eyebrows swiftly draw back together and he shakes his head. “Another time. I’ve got to get back to work.”
He glances over my shoulder and then he meets my eyes again, his lips curling into a sensual smile as he closes the gap between us. Electricity zings down my body.
I’m thrown by how easily he can turn it on, but I try to match his energy—I take it Jackson isright there.
Étienne leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he asks, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Nothing,” I reply, my breathing choppy.
“Meet me at the bar across the road for a drink?”
I peek over his shoulder at the tables by the river and nod, looking up at him.
He leans down and does that kiss thing again, and even though I’m expecting it, I don’t know that I’ll ever be prepared.
“Some help would be good,” Jackson interrupts.
“Five thirty,” Étienne says, nodding at Jackson as he turns and walks away.
“Okay!” I call back, hurrying to extract two of the four cones Jackson is carrying.
“What’s happening at five thirty?” he asks as a drip runs onto my hand.
“Going for a drink tomorrow night,” I reply, quickly licking around the rim of my cone.
Jackson’s nostrils flare as he watches me.
“Hot date?” he asks curtly.
“Something like that.”
I feel a little bad about misleading him, but I will my heart to harden. At some point, I may well fall back into his trap and he’ll hold all the power again, but right now it won’t hurt to let his metal teeth clamp shut and crumple a little.
I hurry back to the table, trying not to lose Mellie’s ice cream to the heat.
17
I’m at the bar atfive twenty-five on Saturday night, just in time to see the geyser go off. Cordoned behind a fence in a small stretch of parkland right by the river is the town’s most interesting tourist attraction: a rare natural phenomenon caused by hot rocks deep underground heating up the water and causing it to explode in a jet that shoots fifty feet in the air. This occurs at exactly the same times each day, every six hours.
It’s more punctual than Étienne. He turns up at twenty to six.
“Are you still angry at me?” I ask as he slides into the seat opposite, his chair rocking slightly on the uneven ground caused by the roots of the nearby plane tree.
He shakes his head, but his jaw is clenched. He literally has a five-o’clock shadow.
