Under My Skin: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 2) by Alix Nichols Read Free Book Online Page B

wolf-whistled. “Nice ass.”
    Jeanne chose to ignore him and pushed her door open.
    “Ooh, I’m so scared, I’m trembling,” Nico said before Daniela pulled him
inside and shut the door.
    The rest of the night was quiet, but it took Jeanne several hours to fall
asleep again. She thought about the incident and played alternative scenarios
in her head. In all of them, she was a lot stronger and stood up to the jerk
much more convincingly. In one of the versions, she even punched him in the
face and knocked him out. And then said to Daniela, You’re wasting your life
with the wrong man .
    Then, somehow, her thoughts wandered to Mat—the wrong man in her
own life. She hadn’t seen him since their kiss at the bistro, but he’d been
ever-present in her thoughts. She’d lost count of her daydreams where he’d show
up at La Bohème to announce he had broken up his girlfriend because he
wanted Jeanne too much to fight it . In other fantasies , he’d knock on
her door, tell her the same thing, kiss her, and make love to her.
    But it had been almost two months since Amanda’s party, and she hadn’t
seen or heard from him. Not even a note or a text to say he was sorry. Nada.
Which meant only one thing—she should stop thinking about him and get
real. He wanted her, all right, but he was clearly able to fight it .
    And so would she.
    In the morning, just before heading to the bistro, she called her old
friend Greg.
    “Hey, how’s my favorite barista doing these days?” Greg asked, sounding
happy to hear her voice.
    Jeanne told him about Daniela and her violent boyfriend. ”Can you help
her?” she asked. “Your NGO’s there to help people who are in trouble, no?”
    “First, I’m in Nîmes, so it’s difficult to reach out to someone in
Paris,” Greg said. “Second, we help refugees and asylum seekers—people
who have no one to turn to.”
    “And how about battered women? Who helps them?”
    “I know just the person, as it happens. I’ll talk to her and call you
back,” Greg said.
    Jeanne let out a sigh of relief. “You’re a darling.”
    “Let’s just hope your friend will be willing to accept help. A lot of
women in abusive relationships underestimate the gravity of their situation.”
    “I know,” Jeanne said. “But then again, she seems
to be a sensible person. Besides, she has a kid. I hope she’ll do it for him,
if not for herself.”
    ***

The aspirin finally kicked in, and Jeanne inhaled, relieved her head was
no longer squeezed by invisible forceps. She turned the coffee machine on,
tamped a coffee cake in the filter basket, and poured milk into a steel jug.
    “Hey, Amar , come over here.
It’s time for lesson number . . . what number did we leave off
on?”
    “Forty-seven? Or was it four hundred forty-seven?” Amar planted himself
next to her and dipped the steaming wand into the milk. “I really need my crèmethis morning.”
    “So do I,” Jeanne said. “But, remember, the main purpose of these two
cups is to test the grind. You’ll tell me if the grinder needs adjusting after you’ve
had your crème . ”
    “Whoa. This is going too fast. I’m not ready for such a big step.” Amar
pulled a panicked face.
    “Don’t worry; I’m not assigning points today. Now, pay attention. You
want to heat the milk to seventy degrees, no more. If you overheat it, your
crème will taste burned.”
    She poured the heated milk onto the coffee, creating a perfect froth,
handed the cup to Amar , picked up
her own espresso cup, and inhaled its full-bodied aroma.
    Thank God for coffee.
    Didier arrived with bags of fresh croissants from the nearby bakery. He
removed his coat and gloves, and offered a croissant to Jeanne. “In exchange
for your smile, princess.”
    “You’re mistaken, monsieur. I’m a baker’s daughter.” Jeanne smiled and
took the croissant.
    “To me, you’re a princess,” Didier retorted.
    Amar placed his cup on the countertop. “Can I have one , too? I’ll smile as