27
Kelsey burst into the hotel hallway like a man on a mission and made his way to Tania’s room.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
She and Claire were just finishing getting ready before heading to Boulevard Saint-Germain for a glass of wine. Tania had barely finished pulling on a clean shirt, when she answered Kelsey at the door. He planted himself in front of her, eyes bright, hair gelled back, beard groomed.
“I need wingmen,” Kelsey announced.
Claire looked up from tying her boots. “Wingmen,” she repeated slowly. “Plural?”
“Yes,” Kelsey said, already nodding. “You. And you.” He pointed in quick succession at Claire, Tania.
“Surely you don't mean me,” Tania laughed.
“I do mean you. Please,” Kelsey begged.
Claire squinted. “Is this about crime or romance?”
“Romance,” Kelsey said reverently. “Specifically, the love of my life.”
Tania crossed her arms. “You met him already?”
“No,” Kelsey said. “But he’s out there. Tonight. In Paris.”
Tania laughed. “You barely survived France’s forward pack and now you’re emotionally vulnerable. Not thinking clearly.”
“This is different,” Kelsey said seriously. “I can feel it. Somewhere in this city is my future Parisian husband, drinking something chic, leaning against a bar, smoking one of those thin cigarettes, waiting for me to walk in.”
“Let’s not ruin a man in love,” Claire quipped to Tania.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Kelsey beamed.
Tania raised an eyebrow. “You’re very confident tonight, Kelsey.”
“That’s fate testing me,” Kelsey replied. “Now. I need all of you.”
“All of us?” Claire asked.
“Yeah, Toby and Jack are coming with us.”
“Knock, knock. Ready to go?” a voice came from the hallway.
“Why all of us?” Tania asked.
“Because,” Kelsey said, ticking points off on his fingers, “Jack is charming and outgoing, not afraid to walk up to strangers, Toby has good instincts about people, Tania is a great conversationalist, and if things go south, Claire, can patch me up after we beat him up. Plus, she has manners which will make me look like I don’t have heathens for friends. ”
Toby blinked. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”
Jack laughed despite himself. “And where exactly are we going?”
Kelsey’s grin widened. “Cox. In Paris. One with music, dancing, and destiny.”
“In Le Marais?” Claire asked.
“Yes! You know it?” Kelsey asked, shocked that Claire would know her way around Paris.
“I essentially lived here over summers growing up,” Claire responded.
“You know French?” Kesley asked
“Bien s?r,” Claire confirmed.
Kelsey was grinning from ear to ear. “Perfect! You are the most perfect wingman, Doc!”
Tania groaned. “You’re unbearable.”
“Correct,” Kelsey said. “And you love me.”
Claire shook her head, already reaching for her jacket. “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for flirting today, Kels.”
“You don’t have to flirt,” Kelsey said. “You just have to exist near me and make me look desirable.”
Jack grabbed his coat. “This feels like a terrible idea.”
“Every good love story starts that way,” Kelsey said, clapping his hands once. “So? Are you in?”
There was a brief pause.
Then Tania sighed. “Absolutely. 100%”
Kelsey beamed. “Excellent. Wingmen assembled.”
As they headed for the door, Kelsey threw his arm around Jack’s shoulders, voice low and conspiratorial.
“By the end of the night,” he said, “I will either meet my soulmate or get rejected in two languages.”
Jack snorted. “Paris really does have everything.”
Behind them, the hotel door clicked shut.
And somewhere out there, according to Kelsey, his destiny was already ordering a drink.
Cox sits right in the heart of Le Marais, loud and unapologetic, spilling energy onto the narrow street like it can’t be contained indoors. From halfway down Rue des Archives, you can already hear the bass thumping, the clinking of glasses, and laughter cutting through the music.
Inside, it’s tight, sweaty, and electric.
The bar runs long and narrow, packed shoulder to shoulder with people leaning close to be heard.
Neon lights bounce off mirrors and bottles.
The air smells like cologne, beer, and rain carried in on jackets.
There’s no real dance floor – people just move wherever there’s space, bodies swaying between conversations.
The crowd is a mix of everything: locals who look like they’ve been coming here for years, tourists riding the thrill of Paris at night, guys still in work clothes, others dressed like it’s already three a.m. Everyone seems confident or at least pretending convincingly.
Flirting happens fast – eye contact held a second too long, a grin over the rim of a glass, someone shouting a compliment over the music in French or English or both.
Bartenders work at a relentless pace, sliding drinks across the counter without breaking rhythm. Orders are barked, laughed through, half-mimed. You don’t linger at the bar unless you’re ready to defend your space.
With drinks in hand, Claire followed Tania toward the knot of people moving to the music, where the bar narrowed and the crowd thickened into something warm and restless.
Kelsey had already disappeared off in pursuit of destiny, or at least a very confident French man. Toby and Jack were nowhere to be seen.
So, she let herself dance.
Not carefully. Not self-consciously. Her body moved with the rhythm, hips swaying, shoulders rolling, the press of other people close enough to feel but not enough to matter.
Someone laughed near her ear. Someone else brushed past, fingers grazing her arm.
It all felt distant and vivid at the same time.
She felt uninhibited.
The memory slipped in easily. Jack in her office, the door closed, his face thrusting against the space between her legs.
The way he’d focused on her completely, unhurried and intent, as if nothing else existed.
The pleasure had been slow and consuming, leaving her unsteady afterward, stunned by how deeply it had affected her.
Her body remembered even now.
Heat curled through her as she danced, and she imagined him there with her, hands at her hips, guiding her movement, their bodies pressed together in time with the music. Grinding, breath close, that familiar tension sparking between them again.
She wanted that closeness. That recklessness with him. Maybe it would lead to more. Maybe it wouldn’t. The possibility alone made her pulse quicken.
Claire glanced through the crowd again, half-hoping, half-afraid to spot him. He still wasn’t there. She spotted Kelsey in the corner talking to a lean, short man, looking rather comfy. She figured he didn’t need her translation after all. But instead of disappointment, she felt anticipation,
She smiled at herself and kept dancing, letting the music carry her, letting the desire exist on its own.
Claire turned slowly, scanning the crowd again, in hopes to find the one man she had been looking for.
And then she saw him.
Jack stood a few bodies away, half-hidden by the press of people, his blonde hair unmistakable even under the pulsing lights. For a split second, relief flared – there he was –
Then the moment sharpened.
He wasn’t alone.
Two women danced with him, one in front, one behind, close enough that there was no mistaking it.
He was sandwiched between them, hands low at their hips, shoulders loose, smiling in a way Claire recognized too well.
The woman in front leaned back into him, laughing, her head tipped toward his shoulder.
His mouth was dangerously close to hers.
The one behind traced a hand up his arm, possessive and casual.
Jack didn’t pull away.
Something tight twisted in Claire’s chest.
It wasn’t anger – not exactly. It was hot, sharp and immediate, tangled with something colder than she had expected.
Disappointment, maybe. Or the sudden, unwelcome reminder that whatever had happened in her office, just the other week, was because he is a flirt. A fuck boy. Just like Tania warned her.
The image burned, probably forever, in her mind.
His body was moving to the music, confident, and wanted.
Wanted by them. The memory of his attention on her and the moment that they had made the sight almost unbearable.
She imagined what it would feel like if she were the one pressed against him instead, if his hands were guiding her hips instead of theirs.
Her fingers curled reflexively at her sides.
For a moment, she considered looking away. Pretending she hadn’t seen him. But she didn’t. She held the sight and let it settle.
Tania leaned in, shouting something Claire barely heard over the music.
“Hey! You ok?” she yelled. Claire nodded absently, eyes still on Jack as the crowd shifted, briefly swallowing him whole.
When he disappeared from view, bringing both women out the door, the space he left felt louder than the music.
Claire exhaled slowly and turned back to the dance floor, forcing her body to keep moving, but casually said to Tania, “I think I’m gonna go!”
Tania nodded in agreement, before going back to dancing.
Technically, they never put a label on what they did, who they were to each other.
He is allowed to sleep with other people, even two at a time, if he wants.
She moved through the tangled mess of bodies, making her way to the door, pulse racing, the image of him between those women lingering far longer than she wanted to admit.
But she made the resolve there, dancing in Paris, that she didn’t want just sex. She might have wanted more.
The hotel room was dark and still when Claire finally came back to it.
The noise of the city faded once the door closed, leaving only the hum of traffic far below and the soft rush of her own thoughts.
She kicked off her shoes, moved through the familiar motions of brushing her teeth, washing her face, washing her hands, once, twice.
Then pulling on an oversized Crusaders Rugby T-shirt and slipping into the king bed.
Sleep didn’t come.
She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, the images of the night replaying whether she invited them or not.
Jack’s hands. His mouth. His focus. The way her body had responded so instinctively it frightened her.
And then the sight of him at the club, laughing, dancing, pressed between two women like it meant nothing at all.
Her chest tightened.
She couldn’t untangle it.
And she didn’t know what he had wanted.
Had it been the same or just a moment? A distraction after the match? Or had she misread something that had never been hers to read at all?
The questions looped endlessly, no answer staying long enough to feel true. She could probably go talk about it with someone, but Noah would be the only person awake and sober, and she will never do that. Not after all that has happened.
Claire rolled onto her side, pulling the sheet closer, trying to anchor herself in the present and her mind kept returning to the same quiet fear – that she might have used him without meaning to, or worse, that she might have wanted to.
To make the captain jealous? What happened between her and Jack came after Noah forced her to face him and his feelings.
By the time she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, she felt more uncertain than she had when the night began.
Paris lay wide awake outside the window.
And nothing felt resolved and she would have to think it over during the 24-hour travel day ahead.