Page 21 of Love on the Vine
“Just don’t take it personally if he eats your sardines and leaves,” Jake teased, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, I haven’t forgotten my promise to introduce you to people in the food industry. Summer is tough. People are traveling.”
“It’s okay. Between the inventory, my cooking lessons with Chantal, and the pétanque competitions, I’ve been busy.”
“Don’t forget the cat wrangling,” he reminded me, dimpling again. That officially made two sightings in one day.
“Exactly! It’s a miracle I find time to sleep.”
His eyebrows drew together as he studied me. “Jin is going to visit some producers in Burgundy next week. I suggested he take you with him.”
“Oh . . .” I was surprised. Pleased that he’d thought of me, but afraid he was trying to get me out of his hair. “Well, I don’t know. I have a very important pétanque tournament next Wednesday. Serge the Shark is coming all the way from Nîmes and Michel is sure I can beat him.”
“Ah, well, we wouldn’t want to disappoint Michel.” Three! Three dimple sightings. I was on a roll.
“I’m sure he’ll understand. I’d love to go. Thank you for thinking of me.” It was a great opportunity to see more of France. Who would say no to a week traveling through vineyards in Burgundy?
“Good.” He turned back to his car, leaning against the hood with his arms flexed. I guessed the conversation was over.
“Better not keep Michel waiting.” I started toward the gate then I remembered about Callie. “Oh, Jake, my friend Callie can bring me my phone this weekend.”
“I hope you told her she can stay here,” he said, glancing at me from beneath the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.
“Really? I don’t want to impose. We could just get a room for the night in Saint-Tropez. She was talking about going to a club there.”
His entire face hardened like he thought that was a terrible idea. “Do you have 500€ for night in town?”
My mouth hung open, and he laughed and gestured to the house. “There’s plenty of room here. Invite whomever you want. Make yourself at home while you’re here.”
“Careful, I might take you up on that and then you’ll never get rid of me,” I warned, only half-kidding.
“I’ll try not to get my hopes up.” He dimpled again, then turned his attention back to the car.
* * *
Toward the end of the week, all Jake’s obsessive fiddling with the car began to make sense.
Late Thursday afternoon, I’d just stuffed a book in my purse with the intention of heading to the café when Jin came barreling out to the garden. He was dressed more casually today in a pair of off-white linen trousers, loafers, and a loose cream chemise, his fingernails painted the same coral pink as his socks.
“It’s a disaster! Let’s get out of here.” He looped his arm through mine and dragged me toward the gate.
“What disaster? Wait!” We started down the hill toward town, staying under the sliver of shade provided by the cypresses. It was hot today. The air was heavy and noisy with cicadas.
“We’ve lost a major contract. Jake is in a terrible mood, worse than yesterday. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” Jin gripped my hand. “I’m afraid he’s going to break something. It’s scary but kind of hot too.”
“Oh, Jin. I had no idea. Can I do anything?”
Slowing down, he peeked over his sunglasses at me. “Maybe.”
At the café, we sat at a table off to the side of the terrace and ordered two lemonades from Marie-Claude who ran the café. Her English was only slightly better than my French but despite the language barrier, we’d hit it off right away.
“You’ve made friends, I see. It comes so easily to some.” Jin pursed his lips and tore open two packets of sugar, dumping the contents into his glass.
“Not that easily. I don’t understand half of what people are saying. It’s so frustrating not being able to express myself.” My long metal spoon clinked against the glass as I stirred ice into my lemonade. I loved how they gave you ice in a separate glass here, so you could put exactly the right number of cubes in your drink. “I think they feel sorry for me.”
“Please.” Jin waved his fingers at me dismissively. “Everyone adores you. I knew within ten seconds of meeting you that I could tell you my worst secrets and you wouldn’t judge me. There’s nothing fake about you. The French love that. Even if they can’t tell what you’re saying, they know you mean it.”
“I don’t know. Not everyone seems to like me.”
“Who do you mean by everyone?” He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could feel my cheeks warm under his scrutiny.
