Read Online What If It's Love?: A Contemporary Romance Set in Paris (Bistro La Bohème Book 1) by Alix Nichols - Free Book Online

putting his elbow on the counter and leaning his head
into his hand.
    “Couldn’t it pass for a Midi accent?” Lena asked Rob. “They roll
their r’s down in Marseille, don’t they?”
    “Absolutely. Only Pepe isn’t rolling. He’s growling.”
    “Anyway, I don’t want a Midi accent,” Pepe said. “I need those
Nordic blondes from the hotel down the street to think I’m a Parisian. You
know, a real one. Authentic .”
    Rob rubbed his chin. “It’s hopeless, buddy, even if you manage to get
your r ’s right. Even if you learn to say ‘mademoiselle’ instead of ‘mad-e-muethel’.”
    Pepe’s face fell.
    “Forget the r ’s,” Rob said. “What you really need to pass for a
true Parisian is scorn.”
    “Scorn?” Pepe’s furrowed his brow. “Like in ‘humor’?”
    “Like in ‘contempt’.” Rob went behind the counter to make Lena tea. “Look
at Didier over there.” He nodded discretely with his head.
    Lena and Pepe turned to look at the bistro’s headwaiter.
    “Observe him in action. Notice how he’s telling that American couple they’re
total losers without actually saying it.”
    The three of them fell silent and watched Didier. The distance was too
big for them to make out his words, but his condescending smiles, discrete eye
rolls, and impatient finger taps said it all.
    “He’s good,” Pepe said, turning back to Rob.
    “Can you do the same?”
    Pepe shook his head. “No. And I don’t want to, either. I like people.
Even the ones who aren’t Nordic blondes in minishorts. All customers deserve to
be treated nicely.”
    “That’s my boy.” Rob patted him on the shoulder. “But you’ll never pass
for an authentic Parisian waiter.”
    “So be it,” Pepe declared, his expression grave and determined.
    “You could find another—” Lena began.
    “My r ’s are definitely getting better, though, I can feel it!”
Pepe’s face lit up with a grin. “This means I may have a chance with one of
those blond angels, God bless their minishorts.”
    Rob clapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. I was just
about to abandon my murderous plans for you, and you have to go and ruin
everything.”
    Pepe snarled at him, then turned to Lena. “You know what I like most
about blondes? Their napes.”
    “You mean the backs of their necks?” she asked.
    “You may not be able to understand this, but to me there’s nothing more
beautiful than the sight of a blonde’s hair pulled up, and a few flaxen
tendrils coiling down her alabaster nape.” Pepe closed his eyes, his index
retracing a coiling movement in the air.
    Rob shook his head in dismay.
    Pepe opened his eyes. “If I was on death row and was granted a last wish,
I’d ask to see a blonde’s nape one more time before they inject me.”
    “There’s no death penalty in Europe,” Lena said.
    Pepe raised an eyebrow. “I travel widely. Including to places where it
hasn’t been abolished. So you never know.”
    “Right. You never know,” Lena said.
    “And how was your day, Lena?” Rob asked.
    “I—” Lena began, but was interrupted by the ringing in her purse.
Must be Dad. “Sorry, I need to get this.”
    She moved out of the way and answered her phone.
    “Still in love with Paris?” Anton asked.
    “Absolutely.” She tried to convey her enthusiasm while speaking in a
hushed voice. “I think I could live here, you know, like forever.”
    “Easy, girl. This is not the plan, remember? The plan is that you
stay in Paris for a few months. A year, tops. Then you return to Moscow and
start working with me.” He sounded disgruntled.
    “Dad, I’m not sure . . .” Lena felt the familiar guilt
clenching her stomach. She was sure. She knew perfectly well what she
wanted to do with her life, and it didn’t include working with her father.
    “Dad, that’s your plan, not mine. I really don’t think I’ll be
working with you. I’m sorry I’m disappointing you, but I’ve found my vocation.
And you know