Page 54 of City of Love

My eyebrows shoot up as I eye the basket. “Are you taking me on a picnic?” I say.

“I am,” he says with a nod, undoing the deadbolt and then opening the front door.

“Really?” I say, not quite believing him.

He just smirks.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you trying to bribe me into not yelling at you again?”

“Depends,” he says with a shrug, jerking his chin at the open door. “What kind of yelling do you still need to do? I thought last night seemed pretty thorough.”

“You deserved that,” I point out.

“And if I know you—which I do,” he says, looking pointedly at me and ignoring my comment, “you’ll have gotten most of it out of your system by now.”

I wish I weren’t so predictable. “You’re pretty much right,” I admit, trying not to smile. We get in the lift together, and the scent of his cologne swirls around me in the enclosed space, making me want to sidle up close and bury my face in his neck.

I do not do that, because I have at leastsomesense of self-preservation. And not falling for Noel? That’s self-preservation at its finest. I’m already doing more swooning than I should.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I say, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.

“Not yet,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

I give a little snort of laughter. “Right.”

“You’ll love it,chérie,” he says. “I promise.”

And, as it turns out, he’s right.

When we arrive at the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, I can see immediately that it’s gorgeous. It’s a park I’ve never heard of, although granted I haven’t spent much time studying French parks. I’m sort of impressed that Noel thought to bring me here rather than somewhere like the Louvre or the Arc de Triomphe, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; he knows I love being outdoors in the summer.

Just not camping. Never camping. I need a mattress and running water, thank you very much.

Noel and I walk together over the wide expanse of grassy hills, him carrying the picnic basket, me twirling around and exclaiming excitedly every time something new catches my eye. I’m sure I look like a little kid, but honestly, this place is breathtaking.

The grass is cool and green, and there are pathways winding around inviting stretches of lawn. The trees don’t quite block out the view of the city outside, and the effect is that of being cocooned in a little pocket of serenity and natural beauty. The sky is an intense, cheerful blue.

“So?” Noel says, and I turn to see him watching me with an amused look. “You like it?”

“Yes,” I say, my smile widening. “I love it.”

He nods, looking satisfied. “I thought you would.” He stops, looking around and pushing one hand through his dark hair. “Let’s go…that way,” he says, pointing to our left. “We can set up over there. We’ll be close to the waterfall if you want to see it once we’re done eating.”

“Ooh, yes,” I say. “I do want to see that.”

“It’s in a sort of cave,” he says. “It’s pretty cool.”

When we get to an empty patch of lawn, Noel stops and sets down the basket. Unlatching it, he pulls from inside a folded blue tablecloth. He passes it to me, and I spread it out while he starts taking out the food.

“Noel,” I say, my eyes widening as I watch. “This is like, apicnic.”

“That was the idea, yes,” he says, looking up at me, his eyes dancing.

“No,” I say. “I mean, this is a classic French picnic. When you google ‘picnic,’ this is what comes up,” I say, waving my hand at the spread. “Baguettes, cheese, butter, grapes—”

“No wine,” he says, cutting me off. “You’re underage.”

“Not in France, I’m not,” I say, tilting my head as I look at him.

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