Eurotour

Chapter 2

Ari

"So," I say, settling in my seat, clicking the safety belt. "Let's go?"

The man keeps staring at me, as if he can't quite wrap his head around my sudden appearance in his car. I take a long breath of the blissfully cool air and offer another smile to ease his suspicions. It seems he's preparing for a new attempt to make me leave. Too bad—now that I'm inside, he will have to get very physical to remove me from this air-conditioned haven.

"I promise to behave," I say, and that breaks him out of his stupor. He shakes his head, lets out something between a sigh and a grunt, and puts the car in drive.

I watch him, trying to assess the potential. A pretty uptight type—wearing a freaking suit in summer, for one thing. Clearly hating my presence and himself for allowing it. It's unlikely he'll be of much use, but surprises do happen. Also, the way he looked at me at first gave some hope. That one-second-too-long evaluating look was hard to misinterpret. The look of someone who likes what he sees.

"I'm Ari," I say.

"You've said that before," he says.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

He glances at me, and I smile again, pleasantly. Aunt Sarah used to go on and on about my 'cute dimples', usually just before pinching my cheeks as if she were trying to tear them off. It took years to get it into her head that I didn't like my face to be treated like plasticine, but in general, my dimples did prove a useful weapon for getting what I wanted, even as a grown-up.

I turn them on full force now, trying to elicit a return smile or at least a softening of the grim expression the stranger is wearing, but it doesn't help.

"I'm Bernard," he says, returning his gaze to the road.

"German?" He sounded British at first, but I'm bad at accents.

"English," he says, throwing a quick glance at me. "The name does have German roots, though."

"Cool," I say, clueless as to where the conversation could possibly go from here. "So, you're going around visiting castles?"

"Yes, I am," he says, and a long pause ensues.

I look at the trees and the colorful little houses we drive by. We pass by a post office and a police station. I could perhaps get out of the car here, but the place seems fairly remote. There's got to be a tourist center where he's heading to, along with tourists, which would allow many, well—opportunities.

"Why Paris?" he says, surprising me.

"Oh, I'm just drifting about. Exploring Europe, you know? Was in Spain last week, now it's France, so I was, like—hey! Paris, right?"

"Paris is a day's ride in the opposite direction. We're getting away from it now."

"I don't mind. That Perpi place you mentioned sounded cool."

"I didn't tell you anything about it."

"I assume it's a castle, no?"

"It's the Palace of the Kings of Majorca," he says dryly.

"Sounds like fun. Especially if you get me to Paris after that."

"I didn't agree to that."

"Why wouldn't you? Traveling alone sucks."

"As far as I can see, you're doing exactly that."

"Yeah, but here's the chance to fix that for both of us." I smile again—so damn tired of smiling, really, but people like you more when you do, and making people like me has been my survival strategy lately.

There's no appreciation of my effort in his expression, only grumpy disapproval.

"So, you think you can just jump into a stranger's car and ask them to take you all the way across the country?"

"As a companion, yeah. Why not?"

"Companions usually split the expenses."

Too good a point, that one. Too bad he's raising it so soon.

"I'm a bit short on cash at the moment." I look him over again. Blue eyes, good tan. Not too old, probably in his forties, not ugly, but still... He glances at me again, and my smile goes up like a flag, dimples and all.

"Money's not the only way to pay," I say suggestively, fully aware that this might get me thrown out of the car in the middle of nowhere again, since we've now left the village and the endless fields are all around us once more.

He looks ahead, as if he hasn't heard me, but his pose seems rigid. Wondering if I'm doing the right thing, I reach out, place a hand on his thigh and squeeze lightly. "We could figure out something else, couldn't we?"

For a moment, he doesn't react, his eyes on the road. Maybe I haven't read the signs correctly, after all. The prospect of finding myself on the roadside again suddenly seems very real.

Then, without looking at me, he gives a barely perceptible nod.

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I hope you've enjoyed the first chapters of this book!

You can find the rest of it through the link in my BIO!

Hope you'll enjoy it!