Page 80 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“About last night?” She sat up and studied his face. “Do you want to talk about it? You were happy this morning, so I figured everything was fine. Also, you didn’t come home. Usually if it sucks, you find an excuse to leave as I recall. Right?”
God, those nights had been the worst. “Thankfully I haven’t had anything go sideways like that in a while. Not since this girl I’d gone out with five times suddenly went to a yoga retreat and came back wanting to chantOmbefore we got going.”
“You’re kidding!” Her laugh was one delighted shriek. “How have you never told me that story?”
“I couldn’t keep a straight face, which ruined the mood. Then she told me I was acting immature, and she was trying to be ‘authentic.’ And I wasn’t. That had me swearing off yoga hard-core chicks because San Francisco—”
“Mass produces them,” Brooke filled in. “So Jacqueline obviously was ready to take it to the next level.”
“Yeah, and it was really good.” Now it was time to tell her the other thing. “But there’s other news. I’m glad you’re already sitting down. She asked me to put in a silent bid for her on the cave.”
“Excuse me?”
“With the hope we would want half of the cave for Nanine’s because she can’t afford the whole thing alone.” When her mouth stayed open in shock, he took her shoulders. “I was as poleaxed as you. I mean, could I be any luckier? This takes care of everything. I never have to tell her our original plan.”
Brooke stood, biting her lip. “You would think that. Aren’t you a little worried she’s trying to use you?”
His reaction was knee-jerk and he knew it. “Actually, it didn’t dawn on me—which I thought was meaningful—until she called it out there, assuring me that she wasn’t.”
A dragon breath sounded from her, not a good sign. “Of course she would say that! Dean, I don’t like this. I was feeling okay about her until now.”
He pushed off the floor. “Dammit, I knew you were going to do this, but I’m telling you. She cares about me. She asked me because she thought she could trust me.”
“And yet you still want to keep your original involvement in acquiring the cave from her.” She sighed. “Dean, it’s still not honest.”
Shit. He watched as she walked to the door. “Come on, Brooke.”
“I’m going to talk to Sawyer about this.”
“Okay, so I’m obviously coming.”
He followed her as she headed for the stairs. Doc had taken the small room connected to his atelier as his bedroom, saying it would be worth it so he could get up in the middle of the night from his bed and open the connecting door to his studio. Since he’d said it practically starry-eyed, Dean believed him. After seeing his new setup, Dean understood. If he were an artist, he’d think it totally rad. Huh, did anyone sayradanymore?
When they got to the atelier, Sawyer was already prepping a canvas with the gesso stuff that he’d explained served as the first layer to seal things up so the paint wouldn’t leak through. He didn’t even look over as they walked in.
“Sawyer!” Brooke called.
“Leave me alone.” He made another swipe of the canvas with a large brush coated in black. “I’m in the grips of a vision.”
“Well, come back to earth for a minute,” Brooke demanded. “Dean, tell him what you just told me.”
He did his part like the good little boy he was, glaring at Brooke all the while. When he finished, Sawyer only continued to paint.
“It’s out of our hands, Brooke,” Sawyer said, slashing the canvas with another streak. “Every person must pave their path, one brick at a time. That’s what I’ve been telling myself this morning.”
“Who saidthat?” Dean asked, thankful Doc hadn’t raked him over the honesty coals.
“I did.” He turned with the paintbrush and lunged at Brooke. “Now get out! The maestro is at work and does not wish to be disturbed.”
Dean sped after Brooke to the door. He didn’t think Sawyer would really swipe them with paint, but Doc clearly was in the grips of something. “Soon we’ll be buying him one of those big white curly wigs in the paintings.”
“Or watching him spirit up one girl after another to pose for him nude,” Brooke said dryly as they walked to the elevator—another of his favorite things about the house.
“Do I get to watch too?” he asked with a laugh as they entered it.
She punched him with one hand and the floor button with the other. “You men and your watching. Let’s detour and see where Madison and Kyle are. I think they’re on the second floor. You should have seen her face when she saw what Kyle had done in the kitchen.”
He was a little pissed he’d missed the grand unveilings, both of the atelier and the kitchen. “Howdidshe look?”
