Chapter Eleven
Clay
“Those were the best crepes I’ve ever had,” Pepper says as we walk out of the quaint café after breakfast Monday morning. “How did you find that place?” The blond streaks in her hair appear even lighter against her navy peacoat as she puts on the scarf I gave her.
A taunting reminder of our incredible night together.
“A gentleman never reveals his sources.”
I feel like I’m on a first date and want to impress her. That’s a new feeling for me, and it poses a challenge. Other than on the football field, I haven’t tried to impress anyone in so long, I’m not sure I remember how. Especially when I know she doesn’t give a damn that I’m one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL or that I’ve got more money than I could ever spend. But I know how big a decision it was for her to take off work, and I’m determined to give her the best day of her life. I made good use of my time this morning, doing research and making calls while she dealt with emails, and I’ve got a few more things besides the five-star café planned for us that I think she’ll enjoy.
“Okay, Mr. Mysterious.” She looks up and down the busy sidewalk. “Which way should we go?”
I nod to our right, and as we head in that direction, my phone chimes with a text. I pull it out and open the text from my grandfather. It’s a picture of a gorgeous sunrise, with the message Can’t get that on a football field .
“Someone just made you happy,” Pepper says with a curious lilt in her voice.
“It’s from my grandfather.” I show her the picture.
“That’s beautiful. Almost as pretty as ours was.”
“Almost.” After we made love in the wee hours of the morning, I convinced her to watch the sunrise with me on the balcony. I don’t know where the urge came from, but it was the most spectacular sunrise I’d ever seen.
“Where is he?”
“In Alaska on an archaeological expedition. He discovered an impression of dinosaur skin and several fossilized footprints last year. The expedition is ongoing.”
“I think I heard something about that on the news.”
“I’m sure you did. He’s a renowned archaeologist and paleontologist, and he’s made some big discoveries over the years. He’s supposed to be retired, but he’s always planning his next adventure. It drives my grandmother crazy.”
“He sounds fun, unless she doesn’t like it.”
“She adores him. Back in the day, she was his assistant. That’s how they got together. Anyway, that picture I just showed you? That’s kind of our thing. He’s been sending me pictures of sunrises forever. He likes to remind me there’s a big beautiful world out there beyond football, with hopes that one day I’ll slow down enough to enjoy it.”
“You should send him a picture of the sunset from the Eiffel Tower and the one you took of the sunrise this morning to show him that you’re not missing out.”
“I sent him the sunset picture,” I say as we cross a street. “And I sent him a picture of you sleeping and said you were more beautiful than any sunrise.”
“ Clay. Tell me you did not send him that.”
I laugh. “I didn’t, but it would’ve been funny.”
She swats my arm. “I still can’t believe I stayed.”
That’s about the fifth time she’s said it this morning. I can’t believe she stayed, either, but I’m damn happy she did. Even after our intimate night, I wasn’t sure what this morning would hold. But I got to wake up with this incredible woman in my arms, and I get to spend an entire day with her. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited to spend time with a woman. Wait. Yes, I can. It was yesterday.
“In your defense, I am hard to resist,” I tease.
She gives me a coy glance. “You do make it impossible to say no.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not bad, but it’s definitely a thing. You’re persistent and very convincing. I feel like a rebel around you.”
I laugh and reach for her hand as we stroll down the busy sidewalk, but she moves it out of reach. As cute and amusing as that was yesterday, it kind of sucks now.
“Pepper, it’s just us, remember? Your family left. There’s no one to hide from.” She sent her siblings a text early this morning saying she was off to the airport, and we waited until they left the hotel to move her things into my suite.
“Sorry.” She slips her hand into mine. “I told you I don’t have experience with flings. I don’t know the rules.”
I haven’t held anyone’s hand in so long, I’m struck by how good it feels to hold hers and how perfectly our hands fit together. Just like our bodies . Jesus, she’s really messing with my head. I never think about that stuff, and with her, I can’t stop. “I don’t think this is a typical fling, so how about we make our own rules?”
“You must do this a lot to have a comparison. Which begs the question, if I’m your European fling, do you have flings by country, state, or…?”
“Don’t do that.” I squeeze her hand.
“What? It’s a fair question.”
“It is,” I admit. “But don’t put me in a box like that.” I stop walking to explain. “I played around a lot and earned that reputation when I was in my early twenties, but I’m thirty-five, Pepper. Give me some credit. I’m not a sex-crazed kid without a conscience. A lot of those rumors are based on fiction, not facts, stemming from someone seeing me out to dinner with a woman, or talking to someone at an event. Neither of which means I slept with them. I’m not saying it never happens, but it’s not as often as you think. Those encounters have been few and far between for a long time. I spend a hell of a lot more time with my buddies and my family than I do with random women.”
She studies me in silence.
“It’s true, Pepper.”
“I believe you. I was just thinking that it must be difficult to overcome a reputation like that.”
Relieved, I say, “I don’t really care about it most of the time. But I do where you’re concerned. So if you have any other questions about my past, let’s get them out of the way now.”
“I am curious about whether you’ve had any long-term relationships.”
We start walking again. “I’ve had a couple that lasted for more than a few dates, but nothing I’d call long-term. The game has always come first, and that doesn’t fare well with women who want my attention.”
“I can understand that,” she says as we cross a street. “It would be hard to compete with your love of the game.”
“I guess I always figured with the right woman, there would be no competition. How about you? I know you don’t do flings, but when was your last long-term relationship?”
“Oh, gosh . Forever ago.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I’m busy, and relationships take time and attention.”
“Does that mean you don’t date often?”
“Not very. I’m sure you can tell by now that I’m not exactly the kind of person who goes out looking for guys.”
“Sure, but what about dating apps?”
“My sisters made me try them, but I didn’t like it. There’s a lot of pressure that goes along with those apps. They’re very looks oriented. I know I’ll never be the prettiest girl in a room, but I might be the smartest, and you can’t tell that from a dating app.”
I stop walking and draw her into my arms. “That’s the second time you’ve said something about not being beautiful, so I’m making our first fling rule. No negative self-talk.”
“It’s not negative self-talk. I just accept the truth. I grew up with gorgeous sisters, remember?”
“That’s your truth, Reckless, not mine, and I can assure you, it’s not a million other guys’ truths, either. Guys have been checking you out everywhere we’ve gone. But that’s beside the point. Negative self-talk affects everything you do. Imagine if every time you worked on a project, you told yourself you wouldn’t do a great job before you even started.”
Her expression turns serious. “I’d never do that.”
“Exactly. So don’t plant those seeds in your brilliant brain about your looks. When you walk into a room, you’re all I see. You have been since the first time I set my eyes on you.”
She studies me again, which she seems to do a lot, and I imagine her picking apart the things I say, dissecting their honesty.
I lift our joined hands and kiss the backs of hers as we stop at a busy corner, waiting to cross. “Think about how I see you every time you look in the mirror, and hopefully one day you’ll see what I see.”
Her cheeks pink up, and she steps closer, her voice hushed. “The image of us last night might render me unable to think at all when I look in the mirror.”
We both laugh, and I steal a kiss before we cross the street.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
I’m not about to tell her everything I have planned, but I can give her a taste. “I thought we’d start with some window-shopping on Champs-élysées, and then I figured you’d get a kick out of seeing the largest science museum in Paris.”
She holds my hand a little tighter. “That’s really sweet, but would it be okay if we didn’t go to the museum?”
“Sure.” So much for my plan to impress her. “Did you have someplace else in mind?”
“No, but I saw a ton of museums the last few days with my family, and I’m kind of museumed out. Unless you really want to go?”
“No. I was only going so you could see it.”
“I appreciate the thought you put into it, but I’ve got one day of playing hooky with you, and I’d like to do things I wouldn’t normally do. Like not follow a plan.”
That’s it, baby. Break out of your shell with me . “I like this rebellious streak.”
“You should. You caused it.”
“I take great pride in that. What are you up for? Walking around and figuring out where to go along the way?”
“That sounds fun.”
“Want to really get risky and ask other people where we should go?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes! And we have to go wherever they say. No googling, either. We have to ask for directions, and let every place be a surprise.”
“I love it. I’m in.”
She beams at me. “But wait. There is one place I want to go.”
“Today’s your day, Reckless. I’ll go anywhere you want.”
“Last night at dinner, Brindle was bummed that she didn’t get to see a show at a place called Crazy Horse. Maybe we can get tickets and go.”
I have something special planned for later that I don’t want to give up, but I’ll find a way to work it in. “Crazy Horse, huh? What is that, a Western show or something?”
“I don’t know, but that’s the fun of it. Plus , my sisters always have great stories to tell about their adventures, and I never have adventures,” she says mischievously. “It would give me a feather in my cap.”
I wonder if that means she’s not going to keep today a secret from them, but I don’t ask, because I don’t want anything to change the direction we’re heading in. “You want to stick it to your sisters, don’t you? You want to one-up them.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever tell them, but I love knowing I could.” She wrinkles her nose adorably. “Is that bad?”
I can’t help hoping one day she will. “No, I love it. I bet the concierge at the hotel can get us tickets.” I pull out my phone and call the hotel.
After securing tickets for a champagne dinner and show at the Crazy Horse, we spend the morning meandering the cobblestone streets of Paris hand in hand. We ask random strangers where to go and take their word as gold as we head out on each adventure. We take pictures of the places we’re sent as we explore interesting shops and check out cool galleries, showing each other things we like and things we don’t. We gorge ourselves on the sweetest chocolates I’ve ever eaten, and Pepper likes them so much, I buy extras for her to nibble on throughout the day. We people watch and make up stories about them, and we laugh more than I have in a long time. I have never done anything like this, and I can’t remember ever having so much fun.
As we leave a gallery, I pull Pepper into a kiss. Her cheeks and nose are cool, but her lips are warm. “Are you cold? Do you want to take a break?”
She shakes her head, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Who should we ask next?” She looks around and tugs me toward an older couple watching us from an outdoor table at a café. “Excuse me, do you speak English?”
“Yes, we do,” the portly man says with a French accent.
“We’re here for only one day,” Pepper says excitedly. “And we’re looking for suggestions of places to go and things to see other than museums.”
The couple exchanges a look, and the gray-haired woman says, “A happy couple like you must see the Wall of Love.”
Pepper’s brows knit, as if a lightbulb in her head went off and she is wrestling with fling versus couple . I don’t want her to overthink it, so I drape my arm over her shoulder and say, “Hear that, honey? I guess we’re going to see the Wall of Love.”
“It’s in the Jehan Rictus Square in Montmartre,” the man says helpfully. “You can catch the métro.”
We take the train, which smells like old sneakers, and we act like silly kids, joking about the smell and trying to guess what the Wall of Love is. “A mural of an orgy, of course,” I say, making her laugh.
“Only if it was designed by a man. I think it’s a graffiti wall, like the one at the Stardust Café in Oak Falls.”
“I don’t remember seeing any graffiti in town.”
“It’s inside the café. We call it the Let It Out wall. It’s covered with decades of proclamations of love, or more likely, lust.”
“And what did you write on that wall?”
She arches a brow. “Nothing I’m going to tell you.”
“You giving me sass, Reckless?” I put my hand on her thigh and squeeze. “I’m not above coercing it out of you.” I lower my lips to hers, taking her in a long, slow kiss that leaves us both breathing so hard, we go back for more.
When we get off the train, there’s a massive number of steps to climb. Pepper huffs out a breath. “We should’ve taken the elevator.”
“You don’t get much exercise, do you?”
“I got plenty of exercise last night.”
I laugh and hug her against my side. “Come on, Montgomery. Show me what you’ve got. I’ll race you, and I’ll even give you a head start. Go .” I smack her ass.
She squeals and bolts up the steps, her arms pumping.
She’s so cute, I can barely stand it. I catch up to her in seconds. “Gotta go faster than that to beat me.” I wrap my arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet, and race up the rest of the steps with her tucked against my side like a football. When we reach the top, we’re both cracking up.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she pants out between laughs. “Don’t your thighs burn?”
No, but my shoulder aches like a bitch . “No, but I’d like to make your thighs burn.”
She blushes a red streak, and I tug her into another kiss, which I can’t seem to stop doing. Nor do I want to. Seeing her unguarded and carefree like this is as spectacular as watching a touchdown play out on the field. I keep my arm around her, wanting to be closer as we head into the garden, which is surrounded by tall buildings and iron fencing. The plants aren’t green or flowering since it’s January, but it’s easy to imagine them with colorful blooms and lush greenery. There are several couples taking pictures in front of the Wall of Love, which is not a mural of an orgy after all or a graffiti wall. It’s a massive, dark-tiled wall with elegant white calligraphy all over it in different languages, and several oddly shaped red areas. “What do you think, Reckless?”
“I think it’s beautiful. There’s a plaque.” She points to it. “Let’s read about it.”
I snag her hand, pulling her back to me. “Isn’t that like googling?”
She winces, and I press my lips to hers.
“I like when you try to break the rules.” I can’t resist stealing another kiss before turning to two middle-aged women, a blonde and a brunette, holding hands. “Excuse me. Do you speak English?”
“Yes, we do,” the blonde answers with a British accent.
“What’s the deal with this wall?” I ask. “Is there a meaning behind it?”
“Yes, a very important one,” the blonde says. “It was designed by two artists, and it says ‘I love you’ in more than two hundred languages, symbolizing love in all its forms.”
“See how the words cross over the lines between the tiles?” her partner asks. “Walls usually divide people. This is a reminder that love can overcome boundaries and connect all of us.” She goes on to tell us more about the artists and the eight-year journey of collecting the I love you s in different languages. “The red marks represent a shattered heart, showing how the human race can be torn apart by a lack of love. If you pieced them all together, they’d form a complete heart.”
“Wow. That’s powerful,” Pepper says, gazing at the wall like she can feel the messages behind it.
I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head, wondering if she’s thinking about a past love. That’s a surprising and uncomfortable thought, but now I want to know if she is.
“Would you like a picture in front of it?” the brunette asks.
“Yes, please.” I hand them my phone.
When we stand in front of the wall, Pepper gazes up at me, and I feel something powerful, too. But it has nothing to do with the wall. Pressing my lips to hers feels as natural as breathing.
“Now, there’s a great picture,” the brunette says, reminding me we have an audience.
When she hands me back my phone, I thank her and offer, “Would you like me to take a picture for you?”
After I take their picture, we chat with them for a bit and ask them where we should go next.
“Have you been to Place du Tertre?” the blonde asks.
“No,” we answer.
She tells us it’s a square that was once a gathering place for famous artists like Renoir, van Gogh, and Dalí and is now used by amateur artists. “Ask one of the artists to sketch a picture of the two of you together. It’s a wonderful experience. We still have ours from fifteen years ago.”
“We’ll do that,” I promise. “Thank you.”
On the walk to the square, I’m still thinking about the way Pepper looked at the wall. “Hey, Reckless, have you ever been in love?”
“No. I had a major crush on Ravi when we went out, and I might have thought it was love at the time. But we were just kids, so…” She shrugs.
“You mean the lucky bastard who got to pop your cherry?” As the words leave my lips, I bite back a sting of jealousy.
She looks amused. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She rolls her eyes. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” She looks up at me with disbelief. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I fell in love at five years old, and I’m still in love with the same game.” The business of it has gotten old, and it’s taking a toll on my body, but my love for the game is still there.
She squeezes my hand. “You’re such a brat. I’m being serious. Have you ever fallen for a woman?”
“I have been in lust, but never in love.” I pull her closer, trying to ignore the unfamiliar tug in my chest. “I guess those chemicals you mentioned haven’t mediated that particular reaction yet.”
We find a vintage photo booth on our way to the square, and I drag her into it, pulling her onto my lap. She smiles properly for the camera, and right before it takes a picture, I tickle her ribs, catching her mid-laugh, with her head back and her mouth wide open. I kiss her as the camera flashes again, and it catches us in various stages of silly faces and hilarity.
We walk away arm in arm, each with a strip of four black-and-white pictures, laughing at ourselves. It only takes a few minutes to reach the square, which is bustling like a street fair with artists and people and shops along the periphery. We visit all the artists, watching them paint or sketch, taking pictures of everything and of the two of us. We sit at a table outside a café sharing a croissant and having a glass of wine, people watching. My shoulder burns, and a dull ache radiates up my neck. I try to rub it out, praying it doesn’t lead to a headache today of all days.
“Are you okay?” Pepper asks.
I lower my hand. “Yeah, fine.”
“Did you hurt your shoulder when you carried me up the stairs?”
I scoff. “ No . I could carry you for days.”
“Are you sure? Yesterday at lunch, I heard the guys say you had a shoulder injury.”
“It’s nothing. They were just talking shit. I’m fine, really.” I look out at the square and try to distract her. “This place is pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t seen anywhere like it since I got to Paris. I love the energy here. It’s like a hidden village all its own.” Her eyes shimmer in the sunlight, more beautiful than ever. “It’s kind of magical.”
I feel something magical, too, but I’m pretty sure hanging out anywhere with Pepper would feel that way.
“I can’t believe I just said that.” She laughs softly. “I don’t use words like magical .”
“Magic looks good on you, Reckless.”
She gives me the sweetest smile, reeling me in for another kiss. I throw away our trash and reach for her hand. “Let’s go, beautiful. Time to get our picture drawn.”
There are lines for most of the artists, but we find an older gentleman who’s sketching caricatures, and we don’t have to wait for too long before sitting for our sketch. The artist speaks in broken English, telling us the history of the square, and we learn there’s a ten-year waiting list to secure a spot there.
When he’s done with the sketch, we rave about it and thank him for doing such a good job. We walk away, trying not to laugh. It’s not just a sketch. It’s a mix of shapes and angles and long flowing hair over bare shoulders. We’ve got sharp noses, large, lustful eyes, and plump lips.
“Is it just me, or did he make me look like Michael Jackson?”
“He did .” Pepper laughs. “I’ve got to give him credit. You’re the hottest MJ I’ve ever seen, but why did he draw us naked?”
“To go with those blowjob lips he gave you, of course.”
We both crack up.
“I wish my lips were as full as he drew them.”
“Your lips are perfect.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“I don’t just like them. I’m obsessed with them.” I brush my lips over hers. “I think I might be a little obsessed with you, too, Reckless.” I punctuate my point with another kiss, and before either of us can overthink it, I say, “Onward!”
On our way out of the square, we stop a tall, chicly dressed woman and explain that we’re here for the day, and ask her where we should go next.
Her gaze moves assessingly over Pepper. “This lovely woman should be dressed in Dior. You must take her to Avenue Montaigne and buy her something beautiful.” She gives me the same scrutinizing once-over and says, “You have handsome bone structure. It must be Armani for you.”
“You have good taste,” I say. “Thank you. Have a nice afternoon.”
As she walks away, Pepper laughs. “Dior?”
“That’s right, Reckless. Time to get a taxi.” I take her hand and head for the street, excited to treat her like a princess and watch her squirm, and bloom, right before my eyes. Like she did in the bedroom.
“We are not spending that type of money.”
“You’re right. We aren’t. I am.”
“Clay.” She gives me a stern look.
“You made the rules, and we’re not breaking them. Besides, we need clothes for tonight.”