Page 87 of On The Edge

At first that was why I enjoyed spending time with her. Her reactions were cute and so very different than the women I normally dated. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous, intelligent, and just a little stubborn, but just like the givens in my life, I took that for granted too.

But now, watching Maddix with a puppy in the middle of the market, I realize this is exactly why I wanted to be with her today. She gives me a different perspective. She allows me to be me without expecting more. She makes me smile and consider things I never really considered before.

Fuck if I know how to feel about any of it.

And I’m enjoying every ridiculously boring minute of it.

“Oh my God, these look like heaven,” she coos over a case of fresh pastries and holds a hand to her stomach.

“Hungry?” I ask and look at my watch. How have we been here for three hours already?

“Starving.”

I hold my hand out to her. “I know just the place.”

She glances down at it, and then a soft smile graces her lips as she takes it. Yes, we’re sleeping together. Yes, we’re pretending to be a bit more. And yes, those lines are beginning to blur when I’ve never allowed anything to blur before.

I shove the thought away and busy myself playing tour guide through the twisting alleys of Vieux Nice—old nice. The pathways are so narrow you can stretch your arms out and touch both walls. We pass several patisseries and boulangeries, stop and admire art in the narrow doorway of a studio. She takes photo after photo of the idyllic and picturesque streets with their worn cobblestone and history etched in the buildings around them.

“Here we are,” I say as we enter a large plaza with a church on one side, a fountain in the middle, and then an Italian restaurant complete with red checkered tablecloths.

Maddix’s face lights up as we’re seated in the outdoor patio, her eyes constantly scanning and taking in and falling in love over and over with each and every nuance and detail of the area.

“What?” I ask when her eyes find mine.

“Each time I think I’ve seen the coolest thing ever on this trip, it’s topped by the next thing I see or place you take me.” She takes a sip of her wine. “There is so much history here. So much tradition. It’s just so damn cool.” Her smile makes me smile. “Thank you for hanging out with me today.”

“I’ve enjoyed it.”

“You’re so full of shit.” She taps her feet against mine beneath the table. “You looked bored to death watching me shop at the market, but I appreciate your patience and letting me soak it all in.”

“I . . . I was bored, but you know, I still enjoyed it.” I rest my hand on her thigh, needing that connection with her and growing confused as to why.

If Maddix has to think twice about it, she sure doesn’t show it as she smiles at a bunch of school kids loading up on ice cream on the other side of the square.

“Do you come here often?” she asks.

“The flower market? The restaurant? Nice?”

“Any of it?” She laughs. “If I lived here, I don’t think I’d ever get sick of exploring. Monaco. France. Your home country. Everywhere.”

“I’ve done my fair share of traveling, yes.”

“No. Not like that,” she says and reaches out to put her hand on top of mine on her thigh and squeezes. “Not for work. Not for racing. How often do you just get in the car like we did today, like we did in Amsterdam, and let the sun shine on your face and just enjoy your surroundings?”

I open my mouth and then close it, grateful for the first time ever over a crying baby to our left. But even after the mother has quieted the little boy and our salads are served, the question still lingers in the air.

“Rarely,” I finally admit. Come to think of it, I’ve played more than I have in ages and that’s solely because of the woman beside me.

“Why not?” Her head tilts to the side as she takes me in.

“Because it’s the Navarro way.”

Her eyes hold mine and she nods ever so slightly. “One of these days, you’re going to give me a real answer to one of my questions instead of using your family as a reason for everything you don’t want to answer.”

“I don’t use it as an excuse.”

“Yes, you do,” she challenges, a smile toying at the corners of her mouth.