Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Freshly showered, caffeinated, and free of goat pee, I felt almost human again when the rumble of Remi's truck announced his arrival. The familiar crunch of gravel under tires sent a little thrill through me—or was that just the espresso kicking in?
" Bonjour ," Remi called as he climbed out of the cab. His voice carried on the breeze, but something in it made me pause. The usual warmth was missing, replaced by a tightness that set my teeth on edge.
" Bonjour ," I replied, plastering on my best smile. But his energy was contagious, and I could feel my own shoulders tensing. "Are you... alright?"
" Oui . Why?" His response was clipped. Defensive, even.
I shook my head slowly, searching for the right words. "It's—oh, nothing. You just seem a little off."
Remi's eyebrows knitted together, a mix of confusion and irritation flashing across his face. "I've only said hello. How can you tell that?"
"I don't know. It's your energy, I guess." God, I was really owning my Berkeley.
He stared at me hard, then shrugged. “I guess I'm just tired. Late night, oui ?"
"Right. Oui. Late night." I nodded, feeling like we were actors in a particularly bad play. "I'm tired, too."
"I bet it was even later for you," he said, an edge to his voice that I couldn't quite place.
My stomach did an uneasy flip. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing." He waved a hand dismissively. "Should we get to work? Do you have a list of chores for me?"
"Yes, we should." I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the weirdness. "Make hay, I suppose."
His brow furrowed in confusion, and I shook my head. "Sorry, just an old American expression. Something my mom's dad always said. Anyway, yes, let's get to work. I was thinking we could tackle the leaky gutters this morning."
***
By 11 a.m., the sun was beating down with a fervor I hadn’t felt since arriving in France. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking through my flowy T-shirt. Mental note: start work at dawn if I want to avoid melting into a puddle.
"Seriously, when does fall actually kick in?" I called up to Remi, who was perched precariously on a ladder. I whisked sweat from my chest.
"It’s much hotter than normal this year. Normally, we’d get the fall turn by now."
"Should we take a break? Maybe have a glass of something cold?" I asked.
He turned, and the smirk that twisted his lips felt like a slap.
"What was that?" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
"What?"
I gestured across my face. “I don't know, that kind of annoyed smirk you just made."
Remi's jaw worked as he set down his tools with deliberate slowness. The clang of metal on metal seemed to echo in the tense silence.
"You know we do more in Provence than just sit around drinking wine all day." His words dripped with sarcasm.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, caught between indignation and confusion. Was he teasing? But the hardness in his eyes said otherwise.
"I didn't mean—we could have, like, lemonade. Or water?" I hated how defensive I sounded.
"I have my water, merci. " He yanked a water bottle from his bag and took a long, pointed swig. Oh yeah, something was definitely off here.
"What's going on with you?" I pressed.
Remi's entire body went rigid, like someone had replaced his spine with an iron rod.
"Nothing. Why?"
I studied him, taking in the tight set of his shoulders, the muscle jumping in his clenched jaw. "You're just—acting strange. Like you're upset about something."
He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, the sound making me wince.
"Remi—"
"Is nothing!" he snapped, its force making me take an instinctive step back. Regret flashed across his face, and he took a deep breath. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket—who still carries those?—and wiped away beads of sweat.
" Désolé. I am just a little tired. I have a lot of work to do at my place. I really shouldn't be spending so much time here."
"Oh. Right. Of course." The words tumbled out in a nervous rush. "I didn't mean to—I wouldn't want you to neglect your own work. Totally." Great, now I was babbling like a teenager with a crush. Which I absolutely did not have. Nope. Not at all.
He stared at me for a long, hard moment, his eyes searching mine for... something. Then he nodded, the movement sharp and decisive. " Oui. I should probably go back. Vanessa will probably have a million things to yell at me about when I get there."
I know, I know, it was juvenile, but the first place my mind went was, “He’d rather spend time with Vanessa!”
Which. Was. Ridiculous.
I needed more sleep.
I forced a thin smile. “Of course. Thanks for everything you've done so far."
He stared at me again, his expression unreadable. It was like he was trying to solve a particularly frustrating puzzle. Then he nodded curtly and gathered his supplies with quick, efficient movements.
"No problem. I will see you—sometime."
"Some time," I echoed. The word felt hollow in my mouth.
Without another word, he strode to his truck and hopped in. The engine roared to life, and he peeled out of the driveway faster than strictly necessary, leaving me in a cloud of dust and confusion.
I stood there, dumbfounded, as the sound of his truck faded into the distance. The sun beat down, hotter than ever, but a chill ran through me. What the hell had just happened?
"What was that about?"
I whirled around, my heart still pounding from Remi's abrupt departure. Félicité stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the cool darkness of the house. She clutched a glass of lemonade, condensation beading on its surface and running down her fingers. The citrusy scent wafted toward me, making my parched throat ache.
I hesitated, the tension from earlier still thrumming through my body. "I'm not sure. Remi was being really weird today."
"How so?" Félicité stepped out, her espadrilles scuffing softly against the weathered stones.
I chewed my lip, tasting the waxy remnants of my lip balm. "He was really on edge. Snapped at me. Seemed tense. He came over to help me with the gutters, then just sort of left abruptly, saying he had too much work to do at his own place."
Félicité tapped her lips, leaving a faint smudge of coral lipstick on her index finger. "Maybe he was hit with a lot of sudden work. It is that time of year."
"Yeah. I suppose I should just take it at face value."
"Or there is—never mind." She shook her head.
I turned toward her, curiosity piqued. She looked a little guilty, her eyes darting away from mine. "Or what?"
She sipped her lemonade, the ice cubes clinking against the glass.
"Félicité—" I pressed, my tone edging toward exasperation.
She sighed, the sound almost lost in the gentle rustling of the nearby lavender. "This is some speculation on my part, but I think your ex being here upset him."
"Upset him?" I blinked, confusion washing over me like a wave. "What does Remi have to be upset about?"
She flashed me an incredulous look. “You really ask me this?"
"What am I missing here?" The heat seemed to intensify, making it hard to think.
She laughed lightly, the sound tinkling like wind chimes. "He's a little jaloux. Uhh—how you say? Jealous."
I blinked again. “Of Evan?"
She bobbed her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Well, not of him exactly. But maybe of seeing you with him. Knowing he stayed here last night."
"But—wait, does he think something happened between us?" The very thought made my stomach churn.
She shrugged in that noncommittal, infuriatingly French way.
"Wait—do you?"
“It is not my business." Her tone was light, but there was an edge to it. “A woman’s boudoir is her own.”
"Félicité, listen and listen good." I took a step closer, my voice low and intense. "Nothing, nothing, happened between me and Evan. He was gone before I even came downstairs. Typical Evan fashion. He just sent me a text saying he had to get on the road early and thanks for dinner."
"Calm down, Elodie. I believe you." She raised her free hand in a placating gesture.
"But Remi thinks otherwise. Did he say that?" My heart was racing again.
"Mmm. Not in so many words." She took another sip of lemonade, looking maddeningly composed.
"But he seemed fine last night. Great, even. Even more—" I paused, remembering his piercing gaze in the moonlight, the way he jumped to my defense so many times. The memory sent a shiver down my spine, despite the oppressive heat. "Intimate, I suppose."
"Remi is a stoic man. He wouldn't let on in front of you that it bothered him. But I saw the way he was last night. And I heard him mutter some things to himself about it."
"That's so weird." I shook my head, feeling dizzy.
"Is it? You are a little blind if you think that. Anyone can see the way Remi looks at you."
"No, he's not—we're just—just friendly." Heat flooded my body as I remembered the feel of his calloused hand on mine. The way my stomach flipped as his blue eyes bore into me like they could see every memory locked away in my soul. I shook it off, feeling like I'd stuck my head in an oven.
"Right," she said, her tone teasing. "Definitely nothing between you. He's just over here at all hours of the day because he loves working overtime for free."
I felt a red-hot blush take over my entire body, from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. I averted my eyes, suddenly fascinated by a pebble on the ground.
"Maybe we've flirted a bit. But nothing has happened between us. I mean, I don't—I can't even right now." The words tumbled out, a jumbled mess of emotions.
She pursed her lips, looking entirely too self-satisfied. I rolled my eyes, feeling like a teenager caught passing notes in class.
"I guess I better talk to him then?" I asked, hating how uncertain I sounded.
She shrugged. “Why? If nothing is going on with Evan and nothing is going on with Remi, then from my perspective, you don't owe anyone an explanation about anything."
Well… put that way, she definitely had a point. She was seven years younger than me but already seemed to be so much more self-aware.
"Don't worry about Remi. He's a big boy. But like most big, tough guys, he has a delicate ego. He will get over it by dinner when he starts missing you."
"Or missing Colette's cooking."
She raised a finger, her nail polish glinting in the sun. "Also a probability. Come on. It's too hot outside for all this manual labor."
I eyed my incomplete project and sighed. “Yeah, you're right. A Demain , vineyards," I said, offering a mock salute to the rows of grapevines stretching out before us.