AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sniffed. “It smells of chicken and oregano.”
“Then it’s chicken soup.” He grinned.
It tasted delicious. I smacked my lips a few times to make a point of showing him. The dumplings had looked stodgy, but turned out to be light and flavorsome.
He chatted about how he missed the local recipes, mentioning various dishes in his rapid German. I smiled sweetly, but lost the ingredients along the way as he darted about his mental recipe book.
He stopped and his face stiffened. “I’m afraid I have to go to the hospital this afternoon and visit Dad.”
“Don’t apologize for that. You came here to be with him, and I’ve sidetracked you.” I dabbed my lips with a napkin.
“I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed being distracted, taking advantage of you. Taking what I like is always pleasurable.” He scooped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl without looking up.
I put down my spoon and huffed out a long sigh. He peered across at me and I glared back. I could see his thought processes ticking over as he furrowed his eyebrows.
He chewed at his lip. “That sounded worse than I intended. Please, don’t ever let me ride roughshod over you.”
I picked up my spoon. “Better. I don’t mind all your power talk in the bedroom, but, Stefan”—I leaned forward and stared into his dark eyes, noting his crestfallen features—“I desire romance too. I’m not Magda. And, as I’m learning, you’re certainly not Micah.” I smiled and patted the back of his hand with my spoon. “This is delicious. Compliments to the chefs—father and son. So, you go to a local hospital?”
“Unfortunately, he was transferred to a specialist unit on the outskirts of Munich. It’s about an hour away.”
“Oh.”
“I suggest,” said Stefan, “that you explore the local area. This village has nothing of interest, but Wolfratshausen has a cultural history and a lovely riverside. I’ll drop you off on the way to the hospital and”—he scraped his chair back and walked over to a drawer—“you can catch the bus back.” He rummaged about before extracting a piece of paper. “Timetable.”
He held out his hand, and I took the printed sheet.
“You’ll be back later?”
“By evening. There are boutiques. I’m sure you’ll find some nice things to buy.” He collected the plates.
“How much is the bus fare?” I asked. I tried to recall how many euros I had left in my purse. I frowned.
“Callie?” He whipped a tea towel over his shoulder and cursed under his breath. “I’m such an idiot. You spent all your savings getting here, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t look in his direction, mortified by my financial situation. I shrugged my shoulders and muttered a tiny, “Yes.”
“Shit. You have nothing left?”
“I’ve reserved a credit card for the flight home, but my cash is almost gone,” I explained. “It was short notice and the flights weren’t cheap.”
Stefan snorted. “Right, I’ll loan you some money. An indefinite loan.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here for you.”
“Nonsense. You’ve come all this way. You should see more than this house. I insist.” He spoke crisply—his German accent becoming more prevalent with each passing hour—then he planted his hands on his hips and dispatched a
stern stare.
My head buzzed with contradictory emotions. He’d just told me to stop him if he got too pushy and here I was, agreeing to a debt. I suspected he would be honor bound to ignore it, let it drift away unfulfilled, but it didn’t alter the issue that I had arrived in Germany with little forward planning and needed his help. “Thanks. Just a loan, though.”
Half an hour later, we set off in his father’s Mercedes, and he dropped me off in the middle of Wolfratshausen with my purse reloaded with notes. As I opened the car door, he squeezed my thigh and landed a brisk kiss on my parted lips. I immediately ached for him, wishing he didn’t have to leave.
“Later,” he said as if he’d promised me something.
He’d dropped me near a pedestrian zone. I wandered the streets, peering in the shop windows and taking in the ambience. The first thing that struck me was the architecture—square buildings with steep terracotta roofs and walls painted in a variety of pastel colors. Nothing dark, no harsh brickwork. The pedestrian zone had wide streets, cobbled in places, with cafés occupying the pavements with their outside seating. Very unlike the narrow roads of Cambridge with hidden passages running between the colleges.
Armed with my phrase book, I managed to buy a coffee and a slice of cake. I opted to sit indoors since the air lacked warmth, reminding me that it was spring, not summer. Yet, the town had a summery feel to it with flowerpots and hanging baskets all ready to burst into bloom. I envied the cleanliness, the lack of bustling students and tourists. Small-town life had passed me by. Other than Cambridge, I’d lived in suburban villages, joined to the city via ribbon developments along key roads, nothing rural or quaint about the surroundings.
