A weight settled in my gut. Maybe I’d done the wrong thing hiring her. Sophie had grown up so much. Just like she said, she didn’t need a babysitter. But securing a nanny hadbeen part of Valerie’s stipulations.
If I wanted this month with Sophie, I needed someone to watch her. And help with whatever god-awful school project her mother signed her up for.
Chloe laughed again, stealing my attention. With a grin at Fifi, she headed towards the bathrooms. My breath stuttered in my throat. Her smile was electric.
As she left, my attention lingered on her back, and the memory of her under the garden shower surfaced unbidden. The curve of her hips, her shock at my arrival, and the way the water cascaded over her body as she tangled her fingers through her hair.
The mental image made me shift in my seat. Thankfully, I’d had an armful of fishing net by the shower. Without it, hiding my risinginterestwould have been tricky.
And then she’d told me who she was. What she was doing in my garden.
Since that moment, I hadn’t been able to keep my mind straight.
Mercifully, Fifi arrived at the table. She held a small pad and pen in her hands.
I scowled. “Where’s the waitress?”
She rolled her eyes. “No idea. She and the barista are both missing in action. I just hope he’s not filling her head with dreams of being an influencer. One diva on staff is already plenty.”
Right on cue, Chloe arrived at the table, flashing a saccharine smile. “Is Maxime reallythatbad?”
Sophie scoffed, and I gritted my teeth. If only I didn’t need a nanny so much.
Chloe sat down next to Sophie, curling the end of her braid through her fingers.
Fifi lifted her pad and pen. “What can I get you to eat?”
A couple at the next table snapped their fingers, cutting her off. She mumbled something indistinguishable under her breath. “I’ll be back.”
Sophie examined the menu. But Chloe? She gave the beautifully designed card about as much attention as spinach at a steakhouse. After the quickest read-through known to mankind, she placed it back on the table. “I’ll have a salad.”
I pulled my brows together. “I catch the fish for the restaurant. You saw today the effort I put in. You have to try something.”
She brought her eyes to mine, their piercing blue knocking the wind from my sails. “Do I? The last time I checked, the people of France fought very hard for their freedom. Surely that includes menu choices? I intend to exercisemyfree-will, starting with the breadbasket.”
She turned to Sophie. “What would you recommend? Sometimes I think wheat keeps me alive.”
Sophie glanced at me, then back at Chloe. “You should try something Papa caught.”
My heart glowed in my chest. My daughter fighting my battles was touching, but I should be the one on the frontline.
After what seemed like an age, Chloe sighed, turning back to Sophie. “Okay, fine. But you pick for me.”
My daughter grinned, and I tipped my head, an uneasy feeling landing in my stomach. Was the glint in her eye a little too sharp?
“Do you like soup?” she asked.
Chloe nodded. “Like I said, as long as it comes with bread.”
“Perfect.” Sophie shoved her chair back with a squeak on the floorboards. “I’ll order. What do you want, Papa?”
After I selected the octopus, she left the table, heading to the bar with an overenthusiastic grin.
As soon as she left, a prickly silence descended upon the table. I played with the outside of my glass and Chloe examined the driftwood decoration on the table between us.
Finally, she broke the stand-off. “Your daughter is lovely. You must be proud.”
“I am, thank you.”
