Deserted Desire

Chapter 8

Desirée scolded herself for being so easily distracted. They were supposed to go see Gregoire, but then Colette showed up and said all those things… Yes, Alec looked insanely good in his T-shirt, even with the sweat drenching the fabric over his chest, but that didn’t mean she was going to ‘jump his bones’, as Colette had put it. Roughly translated, of course.

Colette was the closest thing to a best friend Desirée had in the village. Her baby girl was still too young for Juliette to play with, but in a few years Desirée hoped the two girls would get along as well as their mothers did.

The two women had bonded over man troubles. Colette had moved to Espoire to get a fresh start after an ugly breakup with a cheating boyfriend, only to find out she was pregnant. Juliette was almost three then, and Colette had often come over to chat. She’d had endless questions about pregnancy and birthing and, of course, motherhood as a single parent.

Colette was outgoing and outspoken, and she often complained about how much she missed sex. Desirée didn’t share her woes, though. She was fine with how things were and what she’d had with Jack… Well, there wasn’t much to be missed about it. Now, however, she felt a prickle of awareness whenever Alec was around, and it was disconcerting, to say the least. The sooner he left, the better.

-

“I hope you don’t mind having the same as last night?” Desirée said as she opened the fridge and took out the stew she’d made the night before.

“I don’t think I’d ever grow tired of your cooking,” Alec smiled.

“You say that now,” Desirée said and started heating some of the leftovers. “But at least you can have some tarte tatin for dessert. I took it out of the freezer yesterday.”

“You’re spoiling me,” Alec said and leaned against the counter beside her, his arms folded across his chest.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you on my side, ever think of that?” she joked.

“And you say you’re not a business woman,” Alec said jovially, pointing a finger at her.

“Maybe I picked up a thing or two in New York,” Desirée shrugged and stirred the pot.

“Can I help?” Alec offered.

“Um… you could set the table,” she said. “Take out some wine glasses, as well,” she said when he reached for a couple of water glasses.

“Wine for lunch?”

“We’re in France, remember?” Desirée smiled.

“And here I thought you were trying to get me liquored up,” Alec teased. “Must say I’m disappointed.”

“Oh, I think it would take more than a glass of wine to get a man like you drunk,” Desirée shot back.

“True,” Alec acknowledged, taking two glasses off the shelf. “I’m not exactly what you might call a lightweight.”

“Were you a party guy in your youth, Alec?” Desirée asked, bringing a tasting spoon to her lips to check the temperature of the stew.

“Youth? I’ll have you know I still have a long way to go before I’m ready to retire,” he objected, feigning hurt.

“How old are you, exactly?” Desirée asked, turning off the heat on the stove.

“Just turned 37 last month.”

“So you’re younger than my ex-husband,” she noted pensively. “I must say I’m surprised Jack would trust someone younger than him to handle his affairs.”