Page 30 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
As if signaled by her voice, Kyle appeared with wet hair. “You still here? Get going, man. Punctuality is a virtue.”
“Shakespeare said it best,” Sawyer broke in. “Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.”
“God, we went to Shakespeare.” Dean picked up the basket with another kiss on Thea’s cheek and then lifted Pierre’s cage. “I’m outta here. Later, y’all.”
He’d said it just to get Brooke’s goat, but when he turned back to blow everyone a kiss, they were all standing there smiling at him. Giving him their support. A few of them were leaning against each other. His mind took the photo. These were his friends, seeing him off on his quasi-first date with his dream girl. Suddenly the air smelled even sweeter. “Man, I love you guys.”
“We’ll make sure to change the locks while you’re gone,” Madison quipped as he left.
Laughter followed him onto the cool October streets. Brooke was right about the cage adding an element of difficulty to maneuvering the heavily congested streets. He had to pick up his pace to reach the gardens by the appointed time. When he arrived, Jacqueline was standing beside the first pool with the sailboats—he’d texted her the change after Sawyer’s caution about the Medicis. She had her own basket in her hands as she gazed at two cute little French boys urging their boats on beside their nanny. Had she done that as a kid?
The dreamy smile on her face had his brain cells slowing to a halt. The sun brought out the caramel highlights of her dark blond hair, and the gentle breeze ruffled the tan asymmetrical fall coat she wore over jeans. When she spotted him and turned fully, he nearly staggered at the effect. The purple scarf she wore in that oh-so-French way made her brown eyes seem even more luminous. He was more accustomed to Jacqueline in black and white from all his photo gazing. In color, she was his every dream, the energy that made his heart pump strong in his chest, the very—
His mind went blank. His mouth started doing that thing again, making him audibly swallow. She cocked a sexy brow before lazily walking over to him like a French woman does—flâner,to stroll, his brain stumbled out. An accomplishment, because he wondered if he’d be able to speak at all. His lips felt numb when he tried to smile, and for a moment he didn’t care. His whole existence came down to the two of them standing across from each other only a few feet apart. A herd of elephants rumbling through the park wouldn’t have distracted him. She was all he wanted to look at.
“I like your shirt,” she commented in French. “C’est drôle.”
Dean opened his jacket a tad more to fully reveal the black T-shirt with white letters underneath it, one he’d saved for her eyes first. MAN: THE ORIGINAL
He puffed out his chest. “That’s me.”
Putting her hands behind her back, she strolled forward until they were inches apart. “I hope you will not ask me if I agree with the sentiment at the end of ourrendez-vous.”
The way she said rendezvous made him light-headed. “Only if the answer is yes, of course,” he batted back in French. Were they flirting? God, he hoped so.
“We shall see.” She inclined her head toward the chairs. “Are you comfortable here?”
He’d been hoping to find an empty bench somewhere to lay out their picnic. “I can be comfortable anywhere,” he replied smoothly, moving toward the famously slanted and uncomfortable green metal chairs. Grabbing three free ones, he angled them close together.
All around them, people were munching on their lunches, reading books, or gazing at their cell phones in the other chairs. They only looked up when he swung the burgundy cloth from the cage, making Pierre squawk, “Bonjour, Jacqueline.Ça va?”
“Oui,” she sweetly replied.“Ça va.”
They started murmuring quietly to each other in French, and Dean flashed a smile at their onlookers. “They just can’t get enough of each other,” he quipped, making a few people laugh while others frowned and went back to their lunchtime entertainment.
He set up the third chair as a table. Brooke would have a cow if she saw this—too romantic, too soon—but he appreciated the cozy little blue towel with white flowers Thea had included and set it out on the slanted chair. Not an ideal place setting. But this is where his dream girl wanted to sit.
He drew out the white wine he’d chosen first. He couldn’t wait to see what she thought, being a sommelier and all. He’d researched the best choices for the food in his basket, nearly resorting to making a spreadsheet.
“I am glad to hear Pierre is enjoying his stay with you so far,” Jacqueline finally said to him, sitting down and setting Pierre’s cage on the ground between their chairs. “He tells me he is fond of everyone, especially Chef Madison. He says she is a very dedicated and creative chef, one he is honored to work with, one my father would have liked.”
Thank you, Pierre.Dean uncorked the wine with a healthy pop. “High praise. Honestly, the whole cozy relationship with Madison is a real head-scratcher. I love her, but she leads tough. Yet she and Pierre have fallen for each other. It’s a little weird. I mean, I think I’ve gotten probably four hugs from her, and I’ve known her for ten years.”
Jacqueline glanced at the parrot. “Pierre has that effect on people.” Then she frowned before shaking it off and gesturing toward the wine. “Well…you choseBosquet des Papes.Interesting choice.”
The words might as well have been a super-secret wartime military code. “Meaning…”
She cocked her sweet little brow. “You must want to impress me.”
His brain shorted for a moment. “Guilty,” he responded with a playful look after digging the wine bottle opener into his palm to get himself moving again.
She smiled before stopping herself, still clearly trying to resist his charms. “But you went with a sure thing. A Châteauneuf-du-Pape. And an expensive one.”
“You deserve the best for this first picnic between us—with Pierre,” he managed badly. “Not a regular old white. I lived in San Francisco, as you know. I’m no wine philistine, but there’s no way I could play at your level. So, sure thing it is.”
She leaned forward and peered into the picnic basket, her musky scent wrapping around him. He nearly reached for Sawyer’s handkerchief.
“The notes of white peach, lime, hot stone, and dry soil will complement what you have brought here.” Her nod capped off whatever she was talking about. “An excellent choice.”
