Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Inuyasha, or that is part of the Inuyasha universe, or any of the name brand product and the likes mentioned within the story.
Chapter One
She loved Paris already.
The cute little cobblestone streets...the architecture...the fashion…
She was in heaven, and it felt like her life was slowly starting to snap into place. She could have done without the ten flights of stairs to get to her little apartment, though. Ok, yes, she was being dramatic...but when you were dragging your luggage up said flights of stairs because the building was so old there wasn't an elevator…she could complain, couldn't she? Maybe not, because she also happened to live above the most delicious smelling patisserie in all of France. Who needed Glade plug-ins when you literally lived above a bakery?
Anyways…
Where was she?
Her life! Right!
It was snapping into place.
Finally.
And she couldn't wait to see Jean. Her sweet, sexy, "tall, dark, and handsome" French boyfriend. They had met by chance during her first business trip to Paris. It was a classic meet-cute. She was getting dinner at a local restaurant, reading a book, and just enjoying the early spring atmosphere. He commented on the title and explained that his father was a literature professor. They spent the whole night discussing classics and drinking wine...and then taking a trip back to her hotel room.
She fell in love with France then and there, and she knew she needed to get back as soon as possible.
Work sent her there from time to time - they had an office here, so she made trips rather regularly, and when she found out about the opening here...well. Clearly, she was the best person for the job, and she applied.
Kagome was packing her bags a month later, and she couldn't wait to surprise Jean. They had somehow made long-distance work and had become masters of cybersex. The timing was a little off...but they made it work. With difficulty, but they made it work nonetheless.
But!
They would have to make it work no longer!
Now, their parts were in the same zip code, and she was excited to take advantage of that.
In fact, she was looking forward to surprising him later tonight. She just had to pick out the right lingerie for under her trench coat…
Jean. Was. An. ASSHOLE!
What the hell had she been thinking?!
Apparently not the same thing he had! She had thought that they were more serious than this, but...when she had arrived at his apartment, the sounds of moaning echoed through his front door. Not the "oh my god, I'm dying" kind of moaning, either - the "oh my god, I'm about the cum" kind of moaning. The kind accompanied by "oh yes, faster! Harder!"...only in French.
One day she might look back and laugh at how ridiculous it all sounded to a native English speaker. "Oui...oui...OUI!"
It sounded like little pigs coming home from the market.
She already knew that they were over, and yet...she wanted to just drive the knife into her heart a little further. She knocked and waited. And knocked. And waited. And after the "grand finale", he opened the door in a flimsy little silk robe that she had given him.
He had been surprised, but all smiles.
She had yelled.
He had offered to bring her into the bedroom for a threesome. She had slapped him and then stomped down the hall and down his 30 flights of stairs.
She might like France, but she wasn't that French.
Now, she was meandering the streets as she found her way back home, replaying their relationship in her mind and trying to figure out where the hell she had gone wrong. She had thought that they had something. A deep connection. She had really thought that it had been about more than sex, and yet…
Apparently, she was wrong about that. She was just another hole for him to stick his cock into, and that thought stung the worst.
The familiar smell of sweet baked goods floated through her nostrils, and she slowly shook herself out of her funk to see where the hell she was.
Home.
Or at least the bakery below her home. It really was one of the most adorable little bakeries she had ever seen in her life. The black painted wood exterior framed several large glass windows and was set back between stone slabs of the larger worn building. It was a building that had withstood centuries in this spot, surviving wars and hardships the likes of which she could never imagine. It showed its age within its smooth surface, and she felt a desire to touch it. Perhaps to help the reality of where she stood to sink in.
Through the glass windows, she saw shelves upon shelves of beautifully decorated cakes and other pastries. The faint scent of sweetness wafted through the air despite the door being closed to keep out the chill. It looked warm in there. The room was filled with golden light from a chandelier that hung unassumingly from the ceiling. A large blue awning stretched out over them, trimmed in a golden frill with the shop's name - Petits Délices - and a logo imprinted on it.
A small crowd of people stood within it, purchasing different sweet treats. It was a testament to the quality of their baked goods.
She could get used to her new home being situated above a good patisserie.
Home...was it? She had given up everything for Jean, and she was…
She sighed, closing her eyes as her heart jumped to her throat, threatening to choke her. God, how could she have been so stupid? She had really loved him, too. Or she thought she had...she had loved FaceTime-ing him about her day and hearing about his. She loved his stupid little jokes and the way he would always sneeze in sets of three. The way he would bite the side of his thumb when he was lost in thought, and the way his deep, satin voice could make her whole body ache...
No.
No.
She was fucking stronger than this, and Jean was an asshole and a dipshit. She deserved better. What they had was a sham, and she needed to accept that. She might have moved here for him, but she was going to live here for her. Paris was her dream. She wasn't going to let him get in the way of that. Not when this beautiful country was laid out before her, begging her to come and explore.
There were other men out there, so to hell with Jean. She was going to be just fine. She knew it.
She took a deep, shuddering breath to help restabilize herself and shakily exhaled. The sweet smells of vanilla and chocolate and sugar flooded her nostrils, and she bit her lip.
She shouldn't, but...fuck it! She just had her heart stomped on. She deserved a little...something. Besides. What good was living above a bakery if you couldn't enjoy the wares?
Kagome pushed the door open and squeezed into the small crowd of people clustered within. They were all huddled around the glass case and pointing at the different confections within, and she craned her head between their shoulders to look as well. Each little cake and tart and cookie looked like a work of art.
They were works of art, and she wished she could try them all. Maybe she would. She lived here now, after all. She had the time.
She was trying to decide between a row of pink macarons filled with white cream and decorated with fresh raspberries, and a little chocolate cake glazed in a chocolate ganache and topped with a thin diamond of even more chocolate, when she was shoved forward by another man behind her.
His hand landed on her ass and gave it a pinch, and she yelped, turning around and slapping him on instinct.
The man behind the counter began yelling in French - his words too rapid for her to understand. He came around the side, pointing at the door as the man who had pinched her butt tried to explain what he had done. The employee wouldn't listen, however, and began gesturing wildly in a way that even she could understand.
Get out of this store.
The offender held up his hands and slowly backed away, exiting, and the man who defended her turned and looked at her for perhaps the first time. She watched his breath hitch in his throat - swallowing as his eyes scanned her face.
"Are you alright, Miss?" he asked gently in French, and she wanted to say yes, but the truth was…she wasn't, and she couldn't keep a brave face on anymore. She burst out in tears, covering her face with her hands. The man swore and told everyone else to leave, and if she hadn't been a mess, she would have appreciated the gesture more than she already did.
As it was, however, she was struggling just to stop crying.
She couldn't believe her day. Her luck. Her life.
She had really thought that everything was finally falling into place, but it wasn't.
It was one mess on top of another on top of another, and it was breaking her.
She couldn't handle it anymore. She just wanted to get something to help mend her broken heart, and what had happened? She was shown that once again...all the men in France just wanted to objectify her and her body and she just...just…
She heard the man lock the glass door before he returned to her, gently touching her arm.
"Miss," he asked softly, his thumb caressing the material of her trench coat. "I…"
He was at a loss of what to do. He had never had to handle a sobbing woman in his store before, and all he knew was that he didn't need this today. He couldn't turn her away, however. Not when she was this torn up.
He gently placed his other hand on her arm, and was surprised when she lunged forward into his chest. He stood there, frozen for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders. What the hell had happened to her?
He wrapped his arms around her tighter, taking the hint as she sobbed into his shirt. He felt her little hands clench the soft, old, blue material - her nails roughly scraping against his skin as she tried to pull him closer.
"T-there there," he tried, his nervousness coming through in his French. It only seemed to make her cry harder, and he internally swore, holding her a bit closer. The smell of her salty tears assaulted his nose in the worst way imaginable. He loathed it when women cried. He didn't know how to behave around sobbing women! Especially beautiful ones. Who he didn't know. And had never spoken to before.
She just wanted to be comforted, however, and Kagome was thankful for this stranger's support, even if he was a stranger. It just felt impossible to hold everything back.
Jean. The other stranger.
She had been livid at first, but now she just felt...sad and broken, and the only thing she could do was let it all out and sob into this poor man's shirt until finally, her tears began to subside. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and when she pulled away from him, she felt embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," she apologized in French, her accent thick and very American. She was clearly a foreigner, not that he minded. Paris received a lot of tourists from America.
"It's alright," he replied in his own heavily accented English. "May I?" he asked, glancing over at a table to the side with a few napkins resting atop it.
"Oh!" she replied, detangling herself from him and he grabbed a few, handing them to her. "Thank you," she smiled weakly, but it didn't reach her blue eyes.
"Of course," he replied, watching as she tried to wipe away all the evidence of her tears. He wasn't sure what else to say. Or do. But… "You came in here for something?" he began awkwardly, and she swallowed, glancing back down to his shirt.
"Sorry about that," she apologized, and he followed her gaze.
Black mascara stained the fabric, and a large wet spot tinted it a darker blue.
"It's fine," he waved dismissively. "It's just a shirt. Nothing a little soap and water won't fix, eh?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
"You...if I may be forward, you need more than soap and water."
Her already flushed cheeks darkened, and she glanced down at her red heels.
"Would you like something?" he offered, tilting his head back at the glass case. He assumed that was why she had come here to begin with. For his pastries.
She opened her mouth to say something, but her breath hitched, and all she could do was nod.
"Come?" he encouraged, gesturing for her to step forward with the wave of his hand, and her feet were moving before she could process it. He slipped behind the counter and encouraged her to look at the contents.
"What do you want?" he prompted, asking her to look down within the case as he turned to grab a white plate on the shelf behind him.
She opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't. It was like her words were stuck in her throat and they refused to budge, but he remained there - silent and patient - until she could point at the chocolate cake she had been eyeing.
"Is that all?" he pressed, his lips curling ever so slightly at the corner, and his eyebrow arched knowingly.
She pointed at the pink macarons, and his grin widened.
"Ah, my favorite!"
She watched as he removed both from behind the glass and slid them onto the plate before grabbing a second plate and two forks. She was surprised when he took out a second macaron for the other plate. Was he...intending to eat with her?
He must, because he was moving back around the side of the counter and leading her to a small table off to the side.
"It's normally not quite this busy...but Bastille Day is Sunday. If it is not this busy, we have people eat here a lot," he explained, laying the plate down on the table. She watched him pull out a chair and gesture for her to sit. "Please," he encouraged with a smile, and she nodded her head.
She allowed him to push her into the table, and she crossed her legs as he sat down on the other side after grabbing two glasses of water.
That was when she took a moment to look at him. Really look at him.
He was a half demon - or at least that's what the pointed dog ears atop his head symbolized. Not that she spent much time looking at them. She didn't want to be rude, but…they were hard to ignore. They twitched this way and that, as if he were taking in his surroundings from time to time before focusing solely on her. She had his full and undivided attention, and if his ears didn't tell her that, his eyes did.
Beautiful, golden hues gazed at her in concern through a fringe of thick, long lashes. Lashes that made her envious, even though they were hidden behind a pair of thick, black rectangular frames. Men weren't allowed to have such lovely eyes...but they were allowed to have those strong cheekbones. And that strong jawline...he could cut glass with that, she was sure of it. His long silvery-white hair had been pulled up into a bun at the nape of his neck, and long, shaggy bangs mostly obscured his thick black brows from view.
He was...in a word...very handsome. What was it about French men that drew her in like a moth to a flame?
And why had she blubbered all over this one?
She lifted her fork and turned it onto its side, slowly slicing through the mirror-like glossy finish of the ganache. The fork slid through effortlessly, and she repeated the action before lifting it to her lips.
The moment it touched her tongue, she let out an embarrassing low, nearly sexual moan at the flavor. It was the richest, most decadent thing she had ever tasted.
"You like?" he smiled warmly, and she nodded her head as she savored the feel of the moist, spongy cake on her tongue. "I'm glad. I made them this morning."
Kagome swallowed and blinked slowly.
Him?
"You are…" he began, pausing to think of the right word. "Surprised?"
"I did not think you baked."
His grin widened and he stretched out his arms to the side, gesturing at the shop around them.
"This is my store."
"Yours…" she breathed, and he nodded.
"Mais bien sûr Mademoiselle...but of course! Why would it not be?"
"You're so young!" she blurted out, and it was true. He had to have been around her age - late twenties, maybe early thirties. It didn't feel possible!
"I'll take that as a compliment," he grinned toothily, picking up his fork and cutting into his macaron. "It was not easy, and I have not owned this store for long...but this is my shop," he nodded. "I worked hard for this little place...saved everything I ever earned, was as...eh...frugale as I could be. I paid my way through...mmmm...university and apprenticeships...but...I am more interested in you, Mademoiselle," he smiled softly, before taking a bite of his macaron.
She nervously picked up the glass of water off to the side, taking a sip.
Of course he did. She didn't blame him. When she gently placed her glass back onto the table, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something again, but the words were stuck in her throat once more. She swore she was nearly mute around this man, and she didn't know why! Maybe it was because she had blubbered all over him?
One would think that would make it easier to talk to him, not harder. And yet. Here she sat having that exact issue, and he had been nothing but kind and gentle and even protective over her since she had entered his life fifteen minutes ago.
"Are you here on vacation?" he prompted softly, and she shook her head, closing her eyes.
"I live here now," she croaked, and he paused, placing his fork down to give her his undivided attention. "I moved here yesterday, and went to see my boyfriend, and…"
...and before she could stop herself, she was recounting the whole sordid tale. The move, the breakup...everything. Even the ass pinch, which he had been there for. Why she included that, she didn't know...but…
...but the pastry chef sat quietly and listened to her just spill her messy life story, never once saying a word. And she didn't even know the man's name…
"I...I'm sorry, for all of this, she apologized, finishing the last of her chocolate cake. "Here I am just...ruining your day and making you close up early, and I don't even know your name..."
"Inuyasha," the man grinned warmly, moving his now empty plate off to the side. "Et vous? And you?"
"Kagome," she replied shyly, and he held out his hand in response, silently asking for hers. She obliged, not thinking twice about placing her hand in his, and was surprised when instead of shaking it, he brought her knuckles to his lips and gently brushed them against her soft skin.
The gesture made her blush, but also...it made her feel...appreciated and desired. Something she needed to feel after everything that had happened with Jean.
"A pleasure," he replied, lowering her hand.
"Likewise," she laughed lightly, and it was true. She was glad to meet him. She was a wreck, and she knew that...and this man was being so kind to her after everything that had happened…and she appreciated it. "Meeting you might be the one good thing that's happened in this whole terrible day. This whole damn thing makes me want to swear off men altogether!"
"Not all French men are complete...eh...le con? Ânes?"
It didn't take a genius to figure out what he meant by that, even if she was struggling with the translation.
"Why don't you come here every day for the next week. Just people watch," he encouraged without a second thought. She was about to tell him no when he continued on, "I think you might be surprised by what you see."
"Maybe…"
"Maybe isn't enough," he smirked. "I will accept nothing less than a yes, Kagome. You're too lovely to swear off of men altogether."
She couldn't help but blush and smile, and that made him beam.
"Ah! A smile...it's beautiful," he complimented, and her blush only deepened. "What do you say? You will come?"
Her eyes scanned his face, taking in the sincerity in his eyes and the curve of his lips.
"Yeah. I'll come. It won't be hard - I live near here," she confessed, taking her hand back. She watched him open his mouth to perhaps ask her where, when her elbow caught the glass of water he had brought her, spilling it all over the table and her trench coat. "Shit!"
She stood, grabbing as many napkins as she could find, silently cursing her luck today. She just couldn't catch a fucking break, could she?
"Don't worry about it," he replied, righting the glass and standing to grab a bar rag from the back, quickly mopping up the mess. "This table needed to be cleaned anyway," he reassured her. "Saves me the hassle of doing it later - oh, it got all over your coat. I can take it to the back if you'd like? It will dry faster with the ovens. I do it all the time on rainy days."
She didn't even think twice about it. It was a kind offer, and honestly...she wanted to spend more time with him. Leaving meant returning to her empty apartment and she would just wallow and throw a pity party. She liked him - he was nice and a very talented baker, and this was her chance to spend more time with him.
"Yes - thank you. I'd appreciate that," she nodded, beginning to work the buttons to her trench coat open.
...only she remembered far too late that she had chosen to wear nothing more than her bright red, lacy bra and matching panties to Jean's apartment. And by far too late, she meant after she had opened her jacket just enough to show Inuyasha exactly what color her bra was, and the design on the cups.
"Oh my god!" she cried, quickly closing her jacket again.
"It's fine!" he coughed, tearing his eyes from her breasts with great difficulty. It had been an accident. He knew that. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to have a hard time calming down from what he had just seen. This "Jean" she had been dating was a complete and utter fool.
He hadn't seen much...well...yes. He had. If he could say he knew the color of her nipples, he felt that counted as "much"...but regardless, from what he had seen…
Jean was an idiot.
This woman was something else. He had only spent no more than forty-five minutes with her, but she was sweet and beautiful and had a dry sense of humor, and also an apparently killer figure...and he wished that she hadn't just gotten out of a relationship or else he would have made a move on her. Because, this Kagome...she was something else.
And quickly buttoning up her jacket and grabbing her purse.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized, her words coming out in a rush, making it hard for him to translate what she was saying. He couldn't understand most of what came out after either, but he did understand one thing. She was embarrassed and it made her bolt. She was pushing her way out the glass door before he could stop her, and he wanted to go after her...tell her that it really was fine…
But she was gone before he could move.
"Dammit…" he sighed, rubbing his palms over his eyes. Perhaps it was for the best. He just...he hoped she would be alright.
He really did like her…
"Merde!"
A/N: For Kalcia! This is her secret Santa present.
Yes it's April.
Yes I suck just that much.
No...It's still not done...
BUT I SWEAR TO GOD I AM WORKING ON IT!
I went through a massive inspo dry spell. I think that is turning around though!