Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I bit into the carb heaven and moaned. “Because of the Egypt stuff?”
He chuckled. “Because of the single and homosexual stuff.”
I went still. “They’re bigots?”
“No, no. Not at all. They’re lovely people. It’s more an emphasis on the single aspect. They adored Colin and it’s not that they’re heartbroken over an old breakup, but I think they’re impatient that I haven’t gotten on with it and found someone new.” He paused and widened his eyes comically. “They’ve decided to do it for me.”
“They set you up…with suitors?” I asked incredulously.
Alistair sighed. “Afraid so. My mother introduced me to a nice gentleman from church on my last visit home. He was a sixty-year-old widower who, according to Mum, had recently gone gay. She thought we’d get along smashingly.”
I pulled a funny face. “Not so much?”
“Not at all. He enjoyed crossword puzzles, the symphony, and he had a cat. I can’t recall anything else about him because he was so…”
“Boring?”
“Dead boring,” Alistair groused. “Frankly, I was insulted they’d thought that uninspired, uninteresting man was perfect for me. It’s not flattering to think that’s how they see me.”
I bristled on his behalf. “That’s perifitous!”
“That’s not a word, Win,” he corrected fondly. “Preposterous?”
“That’s it. You’re smart, passionate, sexy as fuck, and interesting. You work with archeologists and museums. You have a fast-pass ticket to the Louvre because they freaking know you. Gah! I wish I had that kind of rizz,” I lamented with a dramatic sigh. “And rizz is definitely a word.”
“Rizz? What is that?”
“Charisma.”
Alistair grinned. “Thank you, but you’re the interesting one here. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
“Ha. Lots of people say that about me, but they don’t always mean it as a compliment.”
“Well, I do. You’re charming, full of life and joy, and…you’re drop-dead sexy. Your inventive use of the English language and your impressive capacity for carbs should be alarming, but they only add to your overall mystique.”
I sat up tall, blushing from head to toe. “Mystique? I have one of those?”
“You do.”
I smiled shyly and sipped my wine.
I wanted to tag this memory in my mental inbox, relishing the light-headed buzzy feeling of good wine and an enchanting atmosphere when I was home again mopping up peroxide-tinted locks.
But most of all, I wanted to remember Alistair.
My cell vibrated on my nightstand at way-too-early o’clock. No, this was Alistair’s room, but I was alone. I noted the stream of light from under the door as I reached for my phone. 6:04 a.m. Text from Raine.
Bonjour! Just wanted to check in with you. How’s gay Paris?
I rubbed sleep from my eyes. Magnifique! Why are you texting so early? It must be 4 a.m. in the Maldives.
Bali. Heart emoji. Are you having the best time ever?
We exchanged a few selfies from our trips. Raine shared one of him and Graham on the beach, sporting sunburns and matching sappy grins. I scrolled through dozens of photos I’d taken over the past week of Alistair and me—in front of the huge clock at the Musée d’Orsay, on a bench at the Luxembourg Gardens, at a café overlooking the Seine.
In the first few pics, Alistair looked resigned and maybe a teensy shell-shocked, but his smile was a thousand percent genuine in the photo from yesterday of us on Pont Neuf at sunset.
And me? I looked…happy. Like stupid happy.
It was a better pic than the one of me with the glass triangles of the Louvre in the background, but I sent that one instead to avoid questions like…are you screwing around with my boss?
Yay! I’m so glad you’re loving it, Raine typed. The conference is coming up soon. You may have to interact with Prof C more at that point. He’s a rock star with that crowd, but the socks will be an issue.
Got it. I frowned at the screen before adding, I met one of his colleagues at the hotel already. Gerard Poitier. Do you know him?
What?! In Paris? Omg, can you talk?
One thumbs-up emoji later, my cell buzzed.
“You met Gerard? Spill.”
“That’s all I have,” I replied in a low voice. “He was cordial and suave, and he had a homotastic artifact he wanted Alistair to look at.”
“Alistair? You’re like old chums,” Raine teased.
“Calm yourself.”
“Hmm. I know Gerard respects the professor, but if you ask me, he takes advantage. He’s a savage name-dropper who just happened to marry the only other Egyptian linguist expert with ties to the museum.”
“Marrying for a museum pass? That’s a new one,” I snarked.
“Not if that pass gives you access to experts from the most prestigious antiquities departments in the world. Not that—” Raine paused abruptly. “Graham’s calling me. Gotta run.”
“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for him. The professor, I mean.”
“I know you will. If you have any questions, I’m a text away. Also, I hid an emergency box of Jammie Dodgers at the bottom of your suitcase for the professor. He’s an eat your feelings kind of guy, and he’ll want those during the conference for sure. Love you.”