Page 64 of Mountain Target

“No,” he agreed. “You’re a thirteen-year-old girl, and you’re not going anywhere unless your aunt says so.”

“You’re scared of her,” Ren replied, but her fingers were on her phone, typing at lightning-speed.

Less than thirty seconds later, his own phone pinged. Even though he’d expected it, he flushed with unexpected pleasure upon seeing Valentina’s name there, in black and white.

Are you really at the school?

He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him.

He wrote back, hyper-aware of the fact that the cackle of girls was spying on him.

I am. I can drop Ren off at yours, if you like.

I’d appreciate that.

He waited patiently as the three little dots flashed on the screen. It took her longer this time, and he had the feeling she wrote and deleted her words several times. Finally, the message appeared. Five simple words.

Want to stay for dinner?

Five simple words that took his breath away.

Fuck, yes.

“Beau?” a voice said beside him. “Are we leaving?”

He’d forgotten all about the girls.

“Sure. You don’t need to say goodbye to your friends?”

Ren turned and dutifully said goodbye, then didn’t speak again until she was inside his SUV. He was glad the scientists had come in a different vehicle so he could head straight home.

Home.

“They’re not really my friends, you know.”

“Why not?” he asked as he pressed the ignition button.

She looked at him with an expression that said only an adult could ask such a stupid question.

“Because I only just moved here, and they’ve been friends for ten years.”

“You don’t think they can make room for a new friend?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe if you keep coming by. You’ve certainly made me a lot more popular.”

“First time that ever happens to me,” Beau drawled.

“There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” she said.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. “Do you think your aunt would mind if we stopped for a snack?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course not. You really should stop treating me like a baby. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m going to take you to eat the best crêpe in Chamonix.”

She laughed. “You know I grew up in Paris, right? Paris. Not Antarctica. There are crepes there too.”