Page 54 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Madison lasted for five minutes—two longer than I bet Sawyer she would—and Nanine and I just finished up.” She pointed at his bare chest. “You planning on going all Tarzan tonight?”
He pushed past her. “That’s a great thought. Here, Jacqueline, check out my goods. Hopefully you’ll like them enough to tell me all about the family issues that made Celine so uncomfortable she shoved us out of your father’s former restaurant yesterday…”
“Being dramatic won’t help.” She followed him into his room and gasped. “You live in this chaos? How do you find anything?”
His usual carefree attitude had departed with the cave-viewing debacle. “I went from a spacious two-bedroom flat in San Francisco to a tiny room in good ol’ Paris. I know it’s crammed. I need more space.”
When he kicked some clothes under the bed, she patted his back and sat down on his wrinkled duvet. “I brought you a T-shirt to wear under your jacket tonight to lighten things up.”
Brooke always backed her worry up with action and management strategies. It was her way, just like finding tech solutions or joking was his. “Good! Because I couldn’t decide what to wear. I kept vacillating between SNAKE and BUSYBODY.”
“You aren’t either one of those and getting to the bottom of things is part of the dating thing,” she told him, extending the bag. “Behold. Your perfect T-shirt for tonight. Clearly I had a premonition, because it seems like you need the message more than your date does.”
His date. Yeah, he suspected this new enthusiasm from Brooke was because her worries about Jacqueline had been settled. She’d thought his dream girl might be making nice with him because of the cave. Brooke always worried about women using him, probably because he’d told her too much about all the other times it had happened. Now that that worry had been resolved, she’d moved on to micromanaging the situation. Terrific.
He fished through the white tissue paper and drew out a pressed and folded dark brown T-shirt in the finest cotton around. When he opened the shirt and saw NICE GUY on the front, his throat caught. “Dammit, Brooke.”
“I thought the brown shirt would work with your skin tone and sandy blond hair and bring out the green in your hazel eyes.” She leaned back on her elbows, still sitting on the mattress, and gave him a warm smile. “Don’t get too mushy on me. Speaking of, there are handmade handkerchiefs in the bottom of the bag. For the drool…”
He didn’t fear the drool tonight. In fact, he was so nervous his mouth was dry. “Thanks, I think. Is anyone else planning on being extra nice to me before I leave? I feel like a solider being sent into an enemy camp—”
“Stop that.” She swatted him. “We’re only trying to help since we know you’re in a tough spot. Sawyer suggested we have a roommate happy hour before you depart so we can press cocktails on you so you loosen up.”
“Liquid courage to the rescue.” He considered it for a moment, but he wanted to face Jacqueline as he was, not tipping over and emboldened from a Cosmopolitan. “No thanks.”
“Dean, I know you really like Jacqueline—and she clearly really likes you. The cave situation complicates things, but somehow this is going to work out. I mean, not to be a Negative Nancy, but we might not even win the auction.”
“Don’t say that! Weneedthis cave. I can’t believe I’d get tingles from the find only to lose it. And don’t get me started on the kismet of Pierre and then meeting Jacqueline.”
“Fine. I won’t. We’ll keep positive about the bid. The spreadsheet Kyle has created to ensure our offer is impressive.”
“I’ve seen it.” He made a sound of something blowing up. “Is there anything he can’t do?”
She started straightening his duvet cover. “He’s expanding on his wine and liquor buying knowledge from owning restaurants in the States. He’s even backchannelling our bid with a few wine experts he knows. He could teach a class to Sotheby enthusiasts.”
Golden Boy would be thorough, and he always won—when there was a clean playing field. That was what he had to discover tonight. “I’ll do my part, but I appreciate you trying to relieve the frogs jumping in my belly.”
He shrugged on his T-shirt and turned to her. “Another thing I miss is a full mirror. How does it look?”
She didn’t answer right away, that assessing gleam entering her gaze as if deciding whether he was ready for the catwalk. “Good.”
“So I’m fashion cover ready,” he concluded dryly. “Whew! If she throws her wine at me and storms out after a rude question, at least I’ll know I look ‘good.’”
“She won’t douse you with wine.” A smile played on her lips. “Although I was going by a café when an enraged young French woman knocked the wineglasses off the table as her lover sat there smugly. I think she discovered he was cheating.”
“And they say the French detest monogamy,” Dean commented, grabbing his jacket and shrugging into it. “Maybe I should ask Jacqueline about that too and get all the difficult conversations out of the way tonight.”
Brooke pushed off the bed after a final tug on his duvet and grabbed his arm. “Good idea. Pack it all in and let the cards fall where they will.”
“Excuse me, where did you put my ever-planning, driven friend, Brooke Adams?” he asked as they walked toward the stairs. A sigh gusted out of him. “God, I’m dreading this date, and I hate that. Not even listening to my pre-date playlist helped.”
“You have a pre-date playlist?” she asked, navigating the treacherous stairs down to the kitchen. “What’s on it?”
“Classics. Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself,’ Queen’s ‘We are the Champions,’ J.T.’s ‘SexyBack’—”
“Okay, I’ve got the picture.” She gestured to him when they reached the kitchen, only to be met with a catcall whistle from Pierre. “Everyone, here’s our special boy. Doesn’t he look like a champion and ever so sexy?”
He should never have said anything. “Cut it out, Brooke. Look, I know all of you are worried, but I’ve got this. Also, who taught Pierre how to whistle like that?”
