Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“So, what do you plan to do with Pierre’s estate once it’s all fixed up?” Remi asked as we strolled down the main street.
I shrugged. “I haven’t fully thought it through yet. I suppose it will be a lovely place to visit when I have the chance. I can’t really imagine selling it, you know?”
“It would be a shame for it to no longer be in the family. I’m happy to hear you say that.”
I sighed. “But other than that, I suppose I don’t have much of a plan.”
“Don’t be in such a rush. The plan will come. You’ll figure it out.”
I laughed lightly. “You’re very Zen about everything.”
“I suppose it’s life around here. It makes you calm. There’s not much of a hustle, you know?”
I looked around at the sleepy little village, the vineyards, and the rolling hills in the distance. I nodded. “I can see that. Makes you want to savor the moment.”
“Exactly.”
“So, you really make wine from Pierre’s grapes?” I asked.
Remi nodded. “I do. On occasion. Like I said before, I have my own vineyard to manage, but Pierre needed help.”
“Isn’t that sort of like competition?”
He half-smiled. “I don’t really see it that way. I don’t think we need to be in competition at all. There’s more than enough to go around for everyone.”
“I wish more people in the world had that attitude,” I said. “It feels like everyone operates out of scarcity. Like there’s never enough of anything.”
“I think that mindset causes a lot of problems. Ah, here we are. My favorite coffee shop in the village.”
“And all of France?” I teased. He smirked and opened the door. I was instantly engulfed by the scent of warm pastries and honey. Freshly ground coffee. Everything warm and inviting you could possibly want. Remi greeted the woman behind the counter. She said something in French and then pointed to a little table by the window. It was the perfect bistro size with a checkered tablecloth.
“I’ll order,” Remi said. “How do you take your coffee? Don’t say something like an extra-large double-whipped Frappuccino with soy, oat milk, and caramel pumpkin syrup.”
My mouth dropped. “How did you know my exact order? Are you stalking me?”
He glared.
“Is it okay if I just order a latte?” I asked.
He bobbed his head, considering. “I’ll still judge you, but I can do that. Here, have a seat, and I’ll go get it.”
I slipped into the little table while Remi went up to the counter. He leaned in close to the barista, who was pretty with honey-blonde hair, peachy cheeks, and big blue eyes. She was thin and chic. A small twinge stirred in my stomach. Oh, come on, Elodie, you’re not seriously getting jealous already, are you? You’ve known this guy for about thirty seconds, and he barely tolerates you, let alone likes you.
I distracted myself by staring out the window, watching the village pass by. A moment later, Remi returned, sliding a mug over to me with a beautiful dollop of foam sprinkled with an artful dash of cinnamon. I noticed he was drinking black coffee himself.
A second later, the barista came over and placed a croissant between us.
“You can’t possibly come here without trying their croissants,” Remi said. “But they’re pretty large, so I just ordered one.”
I eyed the buttery, flaky pastry, my mouth watering. I rarely indulged in pastries, but how often does one find themselves sipping coffee with a sexy winemaker in the south of France? First-time experience for me. I could allow myself this indulgence.
The barista lingered for a moment at our table, and I caught the glint in her eyes as she stared at Remi. He flashed her a look as well. Maybe I was imagining it, but I would bet money there had been something between them. The pretty barista definitely seemed to have lingering feelings. I shook it off and sipped my coffee. My eyes went wide at the taste. Maybe it was the setting, but this might have been the best latte I’d ever had.
“Just wait till you try the croissant,” Remi said.
I jumped. “Hmm?”
“I saw your expression. Yes, they make wonderful coffee here.”
“Best in France?”
“ Oui . But may I tell you a secret?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “All the coffee in France is better than any coffee shop where you’re from. No offense.”
I wiped a little foam from my mouth. “I’m currently high on Provence, so I’ll accept that.”
We sat for a moment, quietly enjoying coffee and the buttery croissant.
“Remi, can I ask you a tricky question?” I finally got the courage to say.
He raised his eyebrows, a smile tickling the corners of his lips. “Sure. Go ahead.”
I hesitated, forcing the words out. “Do you—dislike me?”
He knitted his brow. “I don’t even know you.”
“Exactly. But you seemed to have an instant distaste for me. I could sense it from the moment we met. You were very cold.”
He shrugged. “I’m French. That’s just how we are. You want warm and fuzzy, go to Rome.”
I tilted my head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
“I brought you to my favorite coffee shop, didn’t I?”
“How do I know it wasn’t to get closer to your enemy?”
He chuckled and ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t dislike you. Like I said, I don’t know you. But I admit I had a prejudice when I first met you. I had an instant dislike for—what you represent.”
“And what do I represent, exactly?”
“A greedy American, coming in to ruin everything. You know, the usual,” he said with a playful smirk.
“First, you get my coffee order right, and now this insight. It’s almost like you know me,” I said with a smile. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“I can see that now. Obviously, I don’t know you. But I think one only needs to spend a few minutes with you to see that you’re not after that.”
“So, does that mean you don’t hate me?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “Still entirely up for debate. But I’m warming up to the idea of you.”
“In that case—” I started slyly.
He rolled his eyes. “Here it comes.”
“Do you think…It’s just... I have a lot of work to do on the property. A lot of work that, frankly, I have no idea where to even start. And it seems like you actually care about it. Do you think—do you think you might help me?" I tried to sound strong, but I could hear the quiver in my voice.
Remi narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of work?”
“Well, I want to fix up the house, for one. It needs repairs. And then I have to figure out what to do with the vineyard. How do I keep it alive? The operations? I think I’m a little over my head and I don’t know what direction to go in. But it sounds like you’ve been here the whole time. You know this place.”
Remi stared at me like I’d suggested turning the chateau into a disco. The moment stretched before he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”
“That’s why I need you.” I smiled as sweetly as I could, but I could tell his icy facade wasn’t so easily melted.
“Are you sure you’re not planning on selling it when you’re done?”
I bit my lip, that familiar queasiness swirling in my stomach. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. You have to understand, my whole world has been turned upside down in the last few days. I suddenly have a family I didn’t know existed and a massive house with a working winery. I didn’t expect any of this. But here I am. And I’ll tell you what I’m not going to do—I’m not going to let this place crumble. I’m going to give it the love it deserves. The love it should’ve had these last few years as Pierre got sick. And then—I’ll decide what to do.”
Remi cracked his neck, his gaze lingering out the café window. The afternoon sun caught a few silver strands in his otherwise raven-black hair, giving him an almost otherworldly glow. Finally, he turned back to me.
“I suppose I can offer you a little advice. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I’m very busy. I have my own winery to run.”
I nodded eagerly, relief washing over me like a cool breeze. “I’ll take any advice you can offer. Thank you. Honestly, thank you so much. I know how much it would’ve meant to Pierre.”
“Are you available to chat this afternoon? I’m free after I meet with étienne—unless la dame de la maison would like to oversee the servants?”
I playfully glared. “That won’t be necessary. I trust your expertise, peasant.”
Remi grunted, but a slight smile tickled his lips.
“Very well. And where might I find you this afternoon?”
“Lounging on the terrace, of course. What else would the lady of leisure be doing?”
We made the long walk down Main Street toward my newly acquired sports car. As we approached and I pulled out my keys, Remi’s eyes went wide.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly as though processing something. Then he smiled. “That’s Pierre’s old Peugeot, isn’t it?”
I eyed the sleek silver machine. “It is. Apparently, it was part of the estate, so I got it.”
Remi whistled. “étienne must be fuming.”
A ping of guilt nipped at my belly. “Did he love this car?”
“étienne just loves things. Especially things he feels entitled to.”
“I never wanted to take anything from anyone. Definitely not something they wanted. He can have the car.”
“Non. If Pierre wanted étienne to have it, he would’ve said so. I think you’ll come to find that étienne can be... covetous. I’ve known him for a long time. Whether it’s a house, a car, a woman—he’s not interested in things that come easily or are freely given. It’s a bit of a character flaw.”
I laughed. “I guess I have a lot to learn about my baby brother, then.”
“In time.” He reached out and opened the car door, standing just a little too close. Was that a French thing? Heat flooded my cheeks. I forced myself to look up and meet his gaze. God, he was almost otherworldly.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to steady my knees.
“It was nice to see you, Elodie. Nice to get to know you... a little more.”
I said nothing as I slid into the front seat. He gently shut the door and tapped the side.
“Enjoy the drive back.”