Five days in Paris sounded like a great idea for three friends. Especially when amazing wine was in play.
It didn’t matter that our rented “apartment” only had one bed, and barely enough space to breathe. We were in Paris and our motto was c’est la vie.
Nothing would faze us, not even the rude waiter at the first restaurant we went to, or the insanely hot manager who was insulted when a bottle of wine was returned.
Nothing could bring me down or knock me off my path to the best vacation of my life.
I had six days in Paris and then I’d go back to my wine vineyard. It was smooth sailing until three “Americans” came into the restaurant and returned my newest full-bodied, savory creation.
I ignored her until she stormed out of the restaurant looking for a taxi at one in the morning. I couldn’t leave her wandering around the streets of Paris, could I?
I’d give her a ride, make sure she was safe, and my duty would be done. Except, was it?
Something about her pulled me.
This could be a vacation fling. After all, there is no real reason for her to know my interesting secret.
I’m France’s most eligible bachelor.
This ‘faux pair’ is almost a faux pas…