Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) by Alix Nichols

much as you want, and
you don’t have to call me a princess.”
    Didier glared at him. “If you want a croissant, greenhorn, you have to
pay for it. La Bohème isn’t a charity.”
    “I’ll buy you one if you diagnose the grinder correctly,” Jeanne offered.
    Didier rolled his eyes. “Still trying to train him? It’s a waste of
time.”
    He put a few delicious-smelling specimens on display and packed the rest.
    Jeanne turned to Amar . “Don’t
mind him. He isn’t as mean as he’s trying to appear.”
    “I agree—he isn’t. He’s much meaner than he’s trying to appear,”
Amar said.
    Didier tied his black apron around his hips. “When we take this place
over, we should refurbish it to make it trendier. The neighborhood is
gentrifying at rocket speed. We need to make La Bohème attractive for
the local bobos . ”
    Jeanne squirmed. What made him so sure it would be we ? “I agree it
needs refurbishment. Badly. And those god-awful flowery tiles definitely have
to go.”
    “I’m glad you agree,” Didier said smugly.
    “Yes. But . . . I would keep most of the original
fixtures. They give La Bohème its identity. And I wouldn’t worry about
the bobos . This place tends to grow
on them.”
    “Let’s not argue about it now, but . . . wouldn’t you
prefer to tend a chic lounge bar rather than a bistro counter?” Didier arched
an eyebrow .
    “I like this counter. Besides, if La Bohème became a lounge bar to
attract more bobos , we’d lose a good
share of our usual patrons. The old people will stop coming. We’d lose clients
like José, Madame Blanchard, Monsieur Pascal , the Costa couple, and many more. To some of them La Bohème is life
support.”
    Didier rolled his eyes. “Please.”
    “I’m not kidding. This place keeps them from depression and maybe even
from senility. If it becomes too trendy, they’ll stop going out.”
    “They’ll go somewhere else. Paris hasn’t yet run out of shabby little
bistros where they can feel at home.”
    “Honey, they’re old . They won’t go somewhere else. They depend on their routines, familiar places,
familiar faces. They hate change.” Jeanne sighed. “They’ll stay in their stuffy
apartments and . . . let themselves disintegrate.”
    “You called me ‘honey , ’ ”
Didier said with a grin.
    “I call everyone ‘honey . ’ ”
    “No, you don’t.” He picked up a croissant and pushed it in front of Amar . “Take it and run before I change my
mind. I’m happy today.”
    And he certainly looked it. Jeanne couldn’t believe her eyes. The forever
sneering headwaiter glowed because she’d called him honey. How weird was that?
Over the past few months, he’d shown unequivocal interest in her, without going
as far as attempting to kiss her. Clever boy. He no doubt sensed she wasn’t
ready . Since the end of December,
they’d gone out three times and kept it cool and friendly. The latest date had
been just last week. They saw a movie and went for drinks afterward. She had a
good time.
    Jeanne shivered as a gust of cold air whirled through the dining room,
and the first customers walked into the bistro. She wiped away her croissant
crumbs and went behind the bar. It was time to give her full attention to
business. Deciding whether Didier’s sudden passion was sincere or a sham to get
her to partner with him wasn’t a task for today. If it was the latter, he
deserved credit for the convincing show. But if he was for real, who
knew . . . Maybe she could form a romantic interest in
him . . . one day.
    She was twenty-seven and longed for a relationship that wasn’t
impossible, doomed, or complicated. Unlike Mat, Didier was single. Unlike Mat,
Didier wasn’t above her on the social ladder. His background was similar to
hers . He was in the same profession.
    But above all, he was here . Available and willing.
    While Mat was neither.
    ***

Chapter 5
    February
    What will I tell her?
    Mat had been asking himself that question
over and