Before Ever After by Samantha Sotto Read Free Book Online

sigh of relief. Max was not there. His voice had drifted in from the small garden below her window. She peeked out.
    Max was singing—opera—impressively. Shelley watched him sing as he collected brown eggs from a small henhouse tucked in the corner of the garden. Two clucking feather balls darted around him like puppies. Smug satisfaction curled in the corners of her mouth. She had not forgotten her French after all.
    A whiff of strong coffee lured the group from their rooms, but it was the warm, savory scent that made them scamper down the staircase. They bounded into the kitchen.
    “Feeding time at the zoo.” Max pulled the oven door open and flooded the white brick kitchen with promise. “Rooms all right, campers?”
    “Boudoirs, Max, boudoirs,” Brad said. “Between your donations to orphanages and setting us up in this palace, I can’t figure out how you’re making any money on this tour—not that I’m complaining. I love being on the receiving end of charity.”
    “The owners of this home are friends of mine, mate. They like that I drop in and keep an eye on the place for them once in a while.” Max drew a large earthenware dish from the oven.
    The group followed Max and their noses to a rustic wooden table. It groaned under the weight of freshly baked bread, croissants, jams, coffee, and fruit. Max set the dish at the center of the table, revealing a golden crust of cheese topped with a sprinkling of fresh herbs. It bubbled an invitation.
    “I only had time to whip up some baked eggs and cheese this morning,but it should be enough to sustain you through our adventures today,” Max said. “I was worried that I might find you chewing one another’s appendages off if I attempted anything more elaborate. To be honest, it was a bit of a mess to clean up the last time that happened.”
    “If your cooking is as lovely as it smells, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about any of us snacking on body parts today.” Shelley was lying, of course, since nibbling on Max seemed like a perfectly good alternative to breakfast—at least that’s how she felt before her first forkful of his baked eggs.
    She sank her teeth into melted cheese and summer, unleashing a silk stream of eggs and cream in her mouth. A buttery earthiness lingered on her tongue. She gulped orange juice to keep from moaning from the world’s first egg orgasm.
    Rose gave Shelley a knowing look. “I came as well, dear. Twice.”
    Jonathan sputtered, turning a shade brighter than the raspberry preserves on his baguette. “Ah … um … yes, yes, wonderful eggs, Max.
Très magnifique.
”
    Shelley did not recover quite as elegantly, and was still choking on the juice that had spurted out of her nose and onto Max’s shirt. Max came to her rescue with a couple of solid pats to her back, a napkin, and a grin.
    Shelley watched Jonathan mop up the last of his eggs. She sipped her coffee and made a mental list of what she knew about her traveling companions so far:
    Dex was a freelance writer, chewed slowly, and had a wheat allergy
.
    Jonathan was more than happy to save Dex from his croissants
.
    Rose was not, and religiously reminded her husband to take his anti-cholesterol pills
.
    The honeymooners argued about Jonathan’s diet but agreed on the care of hydrangeas—so much so that they got married at the flower club where they met
.
    Brad and Simon did not belong to a garden club, were not allergic to
wheat, and did not have high cholesterol, but were thrilled about their new wedding-planning business
.
    That about covered it except for Max.
    Shelley set her cup on the table. It was the second she had drained while waiting for her guide to volunteer information about himself. She decided to take matters into her own hands. “And how about you, Max? Is this what you do full time? I recall that you were chasing after some chickens when we spoke over the phone. Married? Um, happily?”
    Max smiled. “Maximilian B. Gallus. Tour operator