Page 33 of A Shade of Myself
“You think I fucked you and then showed up with some other woman?”
“Technically we didn’t fuck—” I swallowed.
Laurent slid off the car. The smile on his face may have appeared charming, but there was a touch of wildness in it.“You think I’m that much of a douchebag?”
In his anger, his accent grew heavier and I thrilled at it, not caring at how messed up that was. I wanted to poke and prod him, unleashing the wolf. That would be far more fun than a straightforward conversation between mature adults.
The car with the women in it drove past us and disappeared down the exit ramp. I fanned away the stench of exhaust. Had it suddenly gotten hot in here?
“No. Well… Not exactly.” I stomped my foot, using the movement to distract him as I slid my hand behind me and surreptitiously hitched up my underwear. Stay. “You confused me, okay? I didn’t hear from you after you went back to France and then the first time I saw you, you were all huggy with a woman you were very careful to avoid assigning pronouns to and you let her have free rein on your fries.” I tossed my head. “And now I sound hysterical, which, I assure you, I very much am not.”
A surprised laugh burst out of him, his rigid shoulders losing their tension.
“Is this funny?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Very.” He sat back down on the hood as if he had all the time in the world to be entertained.
Outside the parkade, an ambulance siren grew louder before whizzing past and fading away.
“Keep it up, Huff ’n’ Puff. You’re inching toward a definite yes on the douchebag front.” I sat down next to him only because my underwear had continued its slow slide downward. Have a very fast talk, get him to leave, grab my underwear, and get in the car. That was the plan, and I was sticking to it.
“I will address your many charges.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “What was the first one? I got lost with all your words.”
I wiped off his kiss, feeling super childish and churlish. “Stop that. I don’t even understand what’s happening right now.”
“Allow me to explain.”
“Oh, please. I’d like nothing better.”
He grinned and kissed my nose again.
Scowling, I permitted it, but only because it was nice when he leaned in and his cedar and sandalwood scent wove around me.
“You didn’t hear from me because my visit was…” He ran a hand through his curls, making them stick up like a little kid’s. “It’s hard to go home. There was a lot I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t have it in me to translate everything into English.”
He generally seemed so comfortable and confident in his bilingualism, but of course stress and high emotions would take their toll.
“So, the truth is, it’s not all about me?” I said it slowly like this was a foreign concept.
He laughed again and I ducked my head to hide my smile. “Your words, not mine,” he said. “As for Cam, she’s a child.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Take the contempt down a notch there, Methuselah. You’re thirty-seven and I’m forty-two. Our age difference isn’t that much smaller. Unless you’re implying that I’m cradle robbing?”
He nodded earnestly. “Oui. I thought that was implicit when I called you a cougar that time.”
“Wow.”
A security guard rode past on his bike doing his rounds and nodded hello.
“But there is nothing between Cam and me,” Laurent said. “We’re just friends.”
“You and I are friends,” I said.
“She’s not an ‘I’ve eaten her out’ friend.”
