Kissed in Paris (16 page)

I’d never seen anything like this place. It was breathtaking.

 “I told you it was beautiful here,” Julien said as he placed his hand on my arm. “I will show you all around after breakfast. Come.”

I followed Julien but couldn’t keep my eyes off the scene that unfolded with each step through this enchanting town. White boats speckled the enormous, sparkling lake. They floated aimlessly, with no cares, nowhere to go, no race to run. Small, laughing children frolicked in the grass, their parents lined up on benches under lush trees, the view of the mountain tops just beyond the leaves that swished in the breeze. The air was cool and refreshing and smelled of pine. As we turned our backs to the lake and walked into town, the mouth-watering scent of chocolate mixed with coffee drifted out into the cobblestone streets, making my empty stomach growl.

The lake funneled into a bubbling stream that flowed peacefully through the town. Vibrant bundles of pink, purple and white flowers spilled over the small pedestrian bridges that stretched across the stream. Meandering tourists strolled up and down the path, shooting pictures of buildings the color of sunset, their shutters open to let in the fresh mountain air.

I remembered walking past this area the night before, but in the daylight, it was a completely different story. “Charming” didn’t even begin to touch what this town was. It was a real-life fairytale.

Julien led us to one of the cafés that lined the stream and pulled out a chair for me at a table that had a perfect view of the majestic lake, the towering mountains, the sweet-smelling flowers, the chirping birds, the rustling trees—all of it.

He sat down across from me and grinned. “See, spending the day in Annecy is not so bad. You do not have places like this in America, am I right?”

I thought back to our townhouse in DC, near Dupont Circle. It felt light years away. “No. There is nothing like this in the States. Nothing at all.”

A tall, dark-haired server with a breezy smile on his face appeared at our table.
“
Bonjour Mademoiselle, Monsieur. Vous voulez quelque chose à boire?
”

“
Un café pour moi
,
et
. . .”
Julien turned to me. “Do you want a coffee?”

“
Un café pour moi aussi,
” I said to the waiter, hoping my accent was comprehensible.
“
Et
je
. . . um . . .
je suis une question
?”

The server’s eyebrows knitted together. “
Oui
,
Mademoiselle
?”

I thought I’d just told him I had a question. Or did I say I
am
a question? Shit. Whatever, he got the point.

“
Il a y . . .
I mean,
il y a une grève
?” I managed to spit out.

“
Oui, Mademoiselle, il y a une grève aujourd’hui
.
And, I speak English if you would like.”

Why hadn’t he told me that right away? Wasn’t I just screaming stupid American tourist?

“So all of the transportation systems are on strike today? Trains, buses, rental cars, everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

“Do you know of any way I can leave this city and get to Paris or Lyon for example?”

“No, Mademoiselle. I am sorry. Unless you have your own car, there is no transportation in or out of Annecy today. Surely another day in Annecy could not hurt. No?” He gestured to the picturesque scenery surrounding us.

“Of course not.
Merci.
”

Before the server moseyed off to another table, Julien added, “
Monsieur,
deux pains au chocolat aussi, s’il vous plaît
.”

Julien raised an eyebrow at me. “Did you think I was lying?”

I shrugged. “I’m just watching out for myself.”

“Why would I lie about the strike?”

I thought of my picture on Julien’s cell phone and the strange text message with my name in it. “Who knows?”

Julien smiled. “Did you think I wanted to spend the day with you?”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking. I just—”

“I did not know you spoke French,” Julien cut in as he pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and laid them on the table.

“I don’t really
speak
French. I took a little bit in college, but that was a long time ago.”

“Your accent is good though. You know, most Americans who come here have horrible accents. I want to tell them, go back to your country and speak English. But you, you have a nice . . .” Julien trailed off as his eyes combed my body.

“I have a nice what?”

He grinned. “Accent. You have a nice accent. You would do well here if you learned more of the language.”

The server set two mini cups of coffee down in front of us along with two fluffy croissants, dark chocolate bursting from the middle.

“
Merci
,” I said before devouring the first few bites of my buttery pastry, savoring the warm, gooey chocolate that melted on my tongue. I was so hungry I could’ve eaten five of them.

I tried to pace myself, but within seconds, only a sliver of the chocolate croissant remained.

Julien chuckled. “Along with bad accents, Americans have bad food.”

“We do not,” I said through a mouthful of pastry, which I washed down with a sip of strong espresso. “Have you ever been to the States?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, and your food is nothing to brag about.”

“Not all Americans eat at McDonald’s, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“It is clear that
you
do not eat at McDonald’s because you are thin and healthy. But most Americans are not so thin, am I right?”

“Do you have something against Americans?” I asked, wishing Julien would shut his mouth so I could enjoy my pastry in peace.

“No, not at all. I am simply making observations. This is how I make my living, you know. I observe. Take you, for example. You are sitting here in one of the most beautiful places in the world, eating a delicious pastry, and yet, you are tense. You cannot allow yourself to relax even for one second to enjoy such a beautiful day, even though there is nothing you can do at the current moment about your predicament.”

“And this is the first time I’ve seen you outside without a cigarette in your mouth,” I shot back. “Eating too much McDonald’s might be a cause of obesity in America, but aren’t you aware that smoking causes cancer?”

Julien sipped his coffee and shook his head at me. “American women, French women, you are all the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Always trying to tell the man what to do. What is good for us. What is bad for us.” Julien’s lips curved upward into a devilish grin. “Why not just live a little and stop worrying so much?”

“I don’t tell Paul what to do. And I don’t worry all the time.”

Julien raised his eyebrow at me again.

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“That thing you’re doing with your eyebrow.”

He let out a low laugh before taking a large bite of his croissant and stretching back in his chair. “It is fun to make you mad, you know that?”

“And it would be even more fun if you would be quiet and
allow
me to enjoy the view.”

Julien snickered under his breath, took a cigarette out of the pack and lit up while I finished my chocolate croissant and breathed in the crisp mountain air blowing off the lake. And just as I felt a few of my worries being swept away at the sound of the stream rushing by, Julien tossed a couple of coins onto the table, grabbed my hand and pulled me up from my seat.

His jaw was tense, his eyes narrow. “Follow me.”

“But I didn’t even finish my coffee,” I insisted.

“
Now
,” he said, yanking me down the sidewalk and around the corner, his eyes darting over his shoulder the whole way.

So much for enjoying the moment.

Ten

“What the hell was that?” I snapped after Julien let go of my hand and resumed his usual, nonchalant stride.

“It was time to go.” He took another puff of his cigarette.

“Did you see someone? Those scary Australians from last night? Or the police?”

Julien kept walking, his gaze straight ahead, his lips sealed.

I shook my head, not sure what to think. One minute I felt like Julien was being honest and trying to help me, then the next minute something crazy would happen and I was back to square one, realizing I had no clue what was really going on.

“Come, I know a nice shoe store a block down the street.” Julien glanced over his shoulder once more.

“You really expect me to go shopping with you and pretend like that didn’t just happen?”

“Nothing happened,” he stated very matter-of-factly.

“Fine.
Nothing
happened. We’ll pretend that you didn’t just see someone who we are now running from.”

“At the moment, we are running from no one.” He glanced down at my feet, the skin raw and pink. “I am buying you a new pair of shoes.” Julien stopped and opened the door to his right, then gestured for me to go inside.

I left Julien’s side, trying to forget about the stunt he’d just pulled at the café and hoping Tattoo Guy and Seductress weren’t after us. I picked up a pair of gray and white Euro sneakers and turned them over in my hands, my temples throbbing as I thought of how much time we were wasting by staying here for another day. Paul would be waking up soon. What would I even say when I called him later on?

“Hey, honey. Just taking a little detour to a fairytale town in the Alps with this undercover French agent I met yesterday. Oh, and by the way, he kissed me in the lobby of the Plaza Athénée, I slept in the same bed with him last night, and he took me shopping. Can’t wait to get home for the wedding though!”

God, what a freaking disaster.

“Those look nice. Want to try them on?” Julien stood next to me, a little too close.

I gazed down at my red dress. “I don’t think they’ll really go with my outfit.”

“No problem. We will get you something more comfortable to wear. I don’t imagine you want to walk around Annecy all day in this seductive dress. Am I right?”

“I’m not going to let you buy me new clothes too. This is ridiculous. Shouldn’t we be spending our time trying to get the hell out of here?”

“I already explained to you, I made a call to the one person who is close enough to come to Annecy and pick us up, but I haven’t heard back. With the nature of my work, there are unfortunately no other options without ruining my cover. I will call again in a minute,
after
I buy you some new shoes.” His eyes darted out the store window, then back to me. “Unless we want to sit in the hotel all day, we may find ourselves running some more, and with you hobbling around in those high heels, you are slowing us down.”

***

Gripping a shopping bag full of socks and my new pair of snazzy Euro sneakers, I followed Julien out of the store, trying to stay calm. Trying to “go with the flow” and “enjoy the moment” since it appeared that I had no other choice.