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Nerds.
I sent him the list and then pulled out the World History text. I’d gotten a couple more posts from Mathieu in the Remind answering questions from other students and an email from him.
Huh.
Flipping open the email, I had to grin. It was a picture of a dish and the wordsThis is my favorite dessert. I’m also an expert in how it should taste, if you want someone to practice with.
I emailed him back, in French, thanking him for the idea and his offer to taste test but it might take me a few tries to get it right.
He answered before I could even tab out of my email.
Then that will give us a lot of time to get to know each other. When would you like to start?
Oh.
That was almost a date.
And then I began to grin. The French exchange student hadn’t gotten the memo.
Ha.
I’d show them
How about Sunday evening?
The guys had me pretty booked but…
Another prompt response:It’s a date.
Well…how about that?
Grinning, I set the phone down and curled up to read about early European civilization.
Chapter Five
Variables
Tuesday blew past almost as swiftly as Monday. I had to admit, French was a whole lot more interesting with Mathieu shooting me quick smiles during the assignment. If I’d had any questions about whether his “dessert tasting” date was a real offer, I didn’t by the end of class. He motioned to me as the class ended, so I took my time about packing up.
Renee Miller scooted right up to Mathieu while I packed away my notebook, but he didn’t linger with her as he slid his own backpack over his shoulder. He fell into step with me as I left the classroom. “If you have to talk to her…” I told him, motioning to where Renee had turned to talk to Madame.
“I cannot,” he said in that delicious French accent, though his English was impeccable. “I have no say over grades. I just help the making of the projections and test your—conversational French.”
“Comment je fais si loin?” I asked how I was doing so far.
“Très bien,”he offered with a chef’s kiss. “Your accent is good, not as American as I would expect. Or as—Texan, is that the word?”
I laughed. We were almost to the stairs. Mathieu’s dark eyes danced with the promise of mischief and his tousled hair didn’t look remotely styled, yet he dressed impeccably from his Polo shirt to his slacks and nice shoes. Nothing about him said local boy.
It was great.
“Texan would be the word, born and bred. But, contrary to the pop culture opinion, our cities can be just as metropolitan as those found in New York or California.”
“I have never been to New York or California, so I will take your word for it.” At the steps, he hesitated and then pulled out a notecard. “The recipe.” He offered it to me. “If you are still interested in this dessert. There are others that I like as well.”
Grasping the card between my thumb and forefinger, I raised my eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”
He slid his gaze to the side, another smile flirting at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps? If you are one who likes challenges.”
