Page 33 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
He held up his hands in defeat. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get Madison some flowers or something on the way home to thank her. I mean, Thea is always getting up early and feeding us. But Madison… I’m shell-shocked.”
“It would be nice of you to bring her flowers,” Jacqueline said softly, touching his arm. It felt like their rendezvous had gone from quasi-date to straight-up date. Her touch fried more of his brain cells, and he shot up from the sheer electricity, almost toppling his chair. “It’s nothing. It’s—”
“Not something every guy would do. But then again, I told you that you were not like anyone I’d ever met.” A glorious smile crested across her face. “I am willing to believe you might be the original, after all, as your T-shirt says.”
He slumped back in his chair in nearly a puddle, the handkerchief calling. Yeah, she was definitely flirting, and he was completely under her spell. That prolonged gaze of hers stole his breath and had his heart pounding. Deep eye contact, the experts called it. Longer than four seconds. If he had a timer, he’d say they had to be up to ten seconds of simply gazing at each other, their eyes locked. Sexual energy swirled between them, and he caught her scent again. Time seemed to slow as the wind ruffled the dark blond locks of her hair.
Somewhere close by a little kid screamed his displeasure in French, but Dean didn’t have any urge to look over at the commotion. All he wanted to do was keep looking at her. When she didn’t budge, he reached out and fingered the hem of her coat. She moved a little closer in her chair until their knees were nearly touching.
“Speaking of flowers, I thought it might be too soon to bringyouflowers,” he said, falling further into her brown eyes. “Maybe next time? If you’d actually like to meet up with me without our parrot friend here. Of course, I’d be willing to call every restaurant to see if they would accept him but—”
“I would consider going out with you again,” she said, her face turning serious. “So long as you understand that I am not looking for—”
His French failed him then when she said a phrase he couldn’t completely make out. He thought she’d said something about an ass, though. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that last part.”
“Un plan cul,” she repeated, her sexy brow cocked again.
He blinked.Culwas ass, so he’d gotten that part right. He parsed out the words.Planmeant map. Huh. So she was saying something about an ass map. His eyes widened. “Hey! Who do you think I am? I’m not some deviant, okay? I know we just met, but I’d hope you would know I’m not merely interested in your ass.”
The people to the right of them swung their heads in their direction, and he realized his voice must have carried. He thought about grabbing Pierre’s throw and pulling it over his head.
The sound of her quiet laughter brought his attention back to her. “You think I was talking about anal sex?”
When he nodded helplessly, and a little sheepishly, she burst out laughing, a full gusty laugh rare for the French.
He wiped his brow in relief this time. “So you’re not warning me off about only being interested in having anal sex with you?”
“Non.”She shook her head and laughed harder.
The way she laughed was rich and hinted of deeper passions, but he was missing out on the joke. “You want to fill me in on what you did say? Because I like a good joke.”
“Un plan culis a booty call in English,” she said, fighting for breath. “And you thought I was saying… My God, that’s too funny.”
“A booty call, huh?” He couldn’t believe his luck. “Clearly a new phrase for me, and one forever burned into my brain now, let me assure you. You know, Thea and Jean Luc have had their French and English misunderstandings while dating, but I don’t think they’ve had any that involve anal sex.”
She sputtered with laughter, her cheeks warming to rose.“Un plan cul! C’est très rigolo.”
“Yeah, it’s really funny. I’m nearing Jerry Lewis levels of humor here.”
“Un plan cul,” Pierre called out with a whistle and gave a parrot’s impression of human laughter.
God help them, it carried. Even the child stopped screaming.
More heads turned in the park, and he swore he could see the phrase spread like wildfire as groups of people in their green chairs asked what they’d missed. Raucous laughter broke out in some quarters while others scrunched up their faces in disgust. Usually he loved making a spectacle for entertainment purposes, but this one was at his expense. On a first quasi-date with his dream girl. Whom he wanted to impress.
“We seem to be attracting a lot of attention,” he observed as she continued to guffaw.
“It’s so funny,” Pierre confirmed again with his scary parrot laugh.
Then a few people got their phones out and started taking photos and videos of them. The gorgeous French woman with him was bent over with laughter, along with her sidekick laughing parrot, guffawing raucously and shouting about the French slang for a booty call. He could already see the posts on Instagram.
“We’re going to go viral if we don’t pipe down,” he cautioned, already seeing Kyle’s severe face in his mind.
“But don’t you see?” She was laughing so hard tears rolled down her face. “You thoughtun plan cul—”
“Yes, we covered that.”
“Un plan cul,” Pierre called out again.“Très rigolo.”
