Chapter 24
CALLUM
I open Asha’s hotel door for her after she presses the key card against it, but don’t follow her in. She stops just inside her room and turns to look at me.
Expectantly, maybe? Does she want me to come in?
I want to. But then she blows her nose and I remember that she should be resting. Not only because I miss having her as my co-leader, but because I don’t want her to be in any pain or discomfort.
So she needs to rest. As much as I wish that we could do something that is the opposite of restful. Our day out was probably taxing enough.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for Versailles?” I ask instead of kissing her. It’s not a suitable replacement activity.
“Yes. I felt good today, aside from a little congestion, so I should be ready to be back at work tomorrow.”
She’s still looking at me expectantly. I need to leave before I take up the invitation written on her face and in her body language. The invitation that my body is already responding to by taking a small step toward her.
No! I stop the wayward foot. I am looking out for her well-being, because she is incapable of doing it herself.
“Keep feeling better,” I order abruptly as I turn on my heel and walk to my room. I would prefer if that walk took me up at least six flights of stairs and down a mile-long hallway, but the short jaunt five doors down is going to have to be enough.
If one more person tells me about their day, I will grab the closest vase and drop it on my own head. Only because I’m not legally permitted to hit anyone else with it.
So says the Gardai, anyway. Not that the Irish police are in France, but I’m sure their Gallic equivalent wouldn’t be too keen on the idea either.
I mean, why do they think I want to hear this? I can see that they’ve arrived at this lobby on time and unharmed; I don’t need to know about their personal lives beyond that.
I try not to glare at them, not managing a smile either, but keep my face neutral in a way that I feel is an improvement over what it would have looked like if anyone had tried to tell me all this nonsense on the last tour.
Must be Asha’s good influence.
The woman herself is running a wee bit late. Not late for the bus, which isn’t due for fifteen minutes, but late since tour guides should be down before anyone else.
I’m nodding at something James is saying (I’m not really paying attention; I hope I didn’t nod to something immoral), when Asha walks down the stairs.
Then I pay even less attention to James. Because she looks stunning. The dress she’s wearing today probably has some absurd pattern on it, but I’m not paying any attention to that. I am paying attention to how low-cut this dress is, revealing soft, large cleavage.
The group is as distracted as I am by her arrival. But not for the same reasons. I hope. They bloody better not be.
A chorus of greetings and well-wishes rise to greet her, and she smiles at everyone as a group while somehow making everyone feel greeted and appreciated.
“Good morning! I hope everyone had a great few days! I’m so sorry to have missed them.”
“We just hope you feel better!” Kevin says. Bloody kiss-ass.
“I am! I don’t have any more symptoms except for some lingering nasal congestion which will only make my French better. I just hope I didn’t get anyone sick.”
That’s charitable, since one of these germ factories got her sick in the first place, I’m sure of it.
“Laura’s going to pull up soon. She can’t wait out there forever, so we have to load the bus quickly. Let’s get ready,” I say to the group. I get a bunch of disappointed looks that I’m breaking up the reunion, but they came to see Europe, not to spend all their time in a lobby.
Even if I can understand the disappointment of having time with Asha interrupted.
Everyone gets in the bus and Asha and I stand in the front of it as we get going, explaining the plan for the day trip to Versailles.
“Today we’re visiting a royal residence and site of the French government during the seventeenth century, which grew from Louis XIII’s humble hunting lodge in 1623 to the luxurious and excessive chateau you know and love under Louis XIV, which could hold up to 5,000 people at one time.
” Asha winks at me, and I know she wants credit for including facts I’m sure she thinks are boring.
“Which means the chateau is big, to fit all those people. So big that the king ate cold meals since the kitchen was so far from the dining room. Don’t worry, another king solved that problem by building a kitchen in his rooms.” She can’t resist adding a fun fact.
“Marie Antionette had a quaint, three-story retreat on the property which included a secluded cave area which apparently had a moss bed. And two entrances. Maybe one for her and one for a lover,” I say, giving her a pointed look. See, I can be salacious, too.
When we’re done with the rest of the introduction, we turn off the mics and then both linger awkwardly in the front of the bus, not knowing where to sit. Are we sharing a bench seat? Should we keep to our own sides of the bus?
I take the coward’s way out and sit down first but scoot over to give her space if she wants to join me, leaving the choice up to her.
If I wanted to put a good spin on this besides craven cowardice, I could say I’m leaving the choice up to her so as not to pressure her.
I’m a modern-day knight in shining armor.
I could say that, if I knew it wasn’t cowardice. Cowardice to avoid the risk of rejection and her asking why I’m invading her seat.
Asha sets her backpack down in the seat across the aisle from me, and I stifle the disappointment that I tell myself I have no right to be feeling.
But then she drops down into the seat next to me.
“Did you see? Roshni and Camila are noticeably more affectionate and focused on each other than they were when we started this tour!” Asha whispers in my ear.
I don’t want to talk about someone else’s relationship.
But I also like that Asha leaned in close to have this discussion, those breasts I was admiring earlier now pressed firmly against my arm.
Sure, there’s two layers of clothing between us, but that doesn’t do as much to dampen the effect as I hoped.
They’re still soft, and molded to my body.
And even though I don’t particularly like how out of control I feel around her, I also don’t want it to end. So I break my rules against interfering in others’ personal lives and lean in closer.
I grunt. “I guess a romantic Parisian dinner is hard to argue with.”
“We did this.” Asha holds her hand vertically between us, and I stare at it for a second before realizing she wants a high five. Or a moderate-height five, as the case were, so no one sees and asks what we’re celebrating.
I extend my own hand out and gently slap it against her much smaller one, keeping it there a few seconds longer than is strictly proper for the ritual.
She doesn’t know why I’m lingering; maybe we do things differently in Ireland. We don’t, but we could. I don’t know what her excuse is for staying in this high five with me, but I appreciate it either way.
She stays next to me for the rest of the ride, which is unfortunately too short.
An hour after we left Paris, we’re pulling up to the golden gates of Versailles.
Gates that are a reconstruction because the French people were so fed up with the excess they tore down the originals.
Fair play, I would have been pissed, too.
Fecking rich gobshites. But with excellent taste.
“All right, everyone. There are some restrictions on where we can speak to you inside the palace since it gets so busy, which is why we did the overview of the chateau earlier in the bus. We have tickets for you all to explore on your own,” Asha says before letting anyone off. “Please grab one as you disembark.”
“And let me know if you have any questions.” I make the offer, but I’m looking at Asha when I say it, not the group.
I did it to help her since she should still be recovering and not answering never-ending questions.
Giving the same information to about ten different people can be surprisingly draining.
But even as I make the offer, I still hope they don’t take me up on it.
“We’ll meet back here at five so we can get to Paris and have our group meal tonight.” Asha gets off the bus first and hands out tickets as people pass.
I wait until everyone is off the bus before getting off myself, needing a few extra minutes away from Asha’s presence. A few more minutes to remember this is a work trip for us and we are not on vacation. Doing what I want would not be professional behavior.
Outside, the group is congregating around Asha, even though they should be exploring independently. I start answering some of their questions. Well, the ones I can pry away from Asha, who cling to her like she’s their safety blanket.
If I were to subscribe to the ridiculous notion that they are our tour children, they most certainly favor their tour mother over their tour father.
Finally, we’re down to the final people wanting answers.
“I just want to say I’m so glad you’re feeling better. And don’t worry, I won’t let it affect the review at the end of the trip for the one job,” Charlotte says.
“Thank you.” Asha smiles, but then she processes what Charlotte said. “Wait. What one job?”
“The owner, I think Rod, sent an email saying that only one of you was going to keep the job at the end of the trip, and that we should fill out forms throughout the trip to help him decide who. Honestly, you’ve both been great. I’m glad I’m not the one making this decision.”
We both freeze, looking at each other.
This is a new development.