Page 84 of The Last Kiss

“Charlie would love this. You should invite her to see it, when…” I trail off because I almost say, when I’m gone.

His gaze searches my face, lips pursed.

“She owns a failing organic vegan restaurant in Notting Hill.”

He nods, face brightening. “I know. I spoke to her about it at Paige’s birthday. I’ve had some ideas for it while I’ve been back here in fact.”

“You have?”

“Sure.” His hand catches mine. “It’s kind of what we do.” Pointing to the vegetables and then back to the main house he adds, “Everything that gets cooked in there, comes from this land.”

“Everything?”

“Oui.”

“Even the meat?”

“Even the meat. We keep our own organic herds, ethically farm them, using them for different things. We make sure they eat the very best, so their lives are the happiest. It makes them taste so much better.”

My stomach turns and I get a bit hot and sweaty. “Vegetarian, ma petite?”

“I’ve never been a declared veggie, but I like to mentally distance what’s on the plate from its origin.” I grimace trying not to think of the cows batting their long eyelashes. “This really isn’t cheese is it?” I clarify.

“Ah, the cheese is my domain. Call it a passion, just like my fathers. But now we do things my way.”

“Your way, what’s that?”

“I’ll show you.” With a tug on my hand, he’s dragging me off again, this time in the direction of a cluster of large sheds. We pass a herd of cows, all bellowing as they are urged along by a farmer in wellingtons. Henri speaks to him while I do the Julianna tune out.

“They’ve just been milked.”

“So, they aren’t eating cows?” I breathe a sigh of relief. Jeez, I couldn’t meet their wide, brown-eyed stare there for a moment.

With a grin he presses his lips to my hair. “No, ma petite, they are worth much more for cheese.”

“How so?”

“They are very rare, almost extinct. We feed them well, play the lullabies to make them relax, and in return they give us the best cheese in the south of France.”

“You play them lullabies?” I ask as I squint up at his towering shape.

Clearly, I’m funny because he rolls his eyes. “You British are so pragmatic.”

“What makes the cheese so special?”

“Every herd is fed in a different field. It means the grass is different. They only eat natural fauna, so the milk they produce is unique.”

Wow. Who knew cheese could be so complicated? “So not the mafia then?”

Henri’s mouth falls open and then he roars a laugh, bending at the waist. “The mafia?” Yep, there he goes again. It might be his heart close to giving out not mine. “Julia, you are truly unique.” He sobers enough to wipe his eyes and straighten. “What convinced you I was mafia?”

“Well, you’re very cagey about your cheese.”

“Cagey, ma petite?” He wipes his eyes. I’ve made him cry laughing. “I just didn’t want to bore you with cows. Cheese isn’t the best chat-up line?”

“Chat up line, huh? Do you use them a lot?” I mean, I’m sure he probably does, but it doesn’t mean I can stop my face from dropping.

Laughing again, he pulls me closer. “No. You think I have time for chat-up lines? Look at all these cows I have to sing lullabies too.”