Page 26 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
She wiped her hands on the towel in her apron, then cupped his gorgeous face, savoring the feel of his morning stubble. “Have I told you this morning how much I love you?”
His eyes warmed, and he tucked a curl back behind her ear. “No, I believe you are remiss, but the Italian half of me says that a woman who leaves your bed to bake bread for you loves you beyond measure. I believe my mother told my father that many times.”
“She’s so right!” She rose up on her bare feet and kissed him slowly, sighing into his mouth. “But it’s not only for you. One of these loaves is for Dean’s quasi-date.”
He chuckled. “How lucky can a man be? But will he be able to eat it? Did you not say he had saliva coming out of his mouth over this woman?”
She started laughing. “It’s a phrase in English. Drooling.”
He attempted to say it and gave a very sexy French shrug. “It is an uncivil word. When I first met you, my family said it was acoup de foudre. That is how the French say instant attraction. A sudden bolt of lightning.”
“Well, the French have very creative ways of speaking of love. You’ll have to teach Dean some since Jacqueline is French.”
“Non,ma Thea.” He cleared his throat. “I know how much you and your roommates like to help each other, but one man does not speak to another of such things. He must be himself only. Jacqueline knows he is not French, so she must see something in him that agrees with her. While I see the charm of Pierre, I cannot imagine anyone would agree to such a picnic unless there was an attraction. If Dean could not speak without this drooling, she must know he is interested.”
The timer went off, and Thea nodded to herself as she walked over to check her croissants. She cracked open the oven after examining their color through the glass—a perfect golden brown. The aroma of fresh croissants washed over her, making her sigh in bliss. “I’ll bet she likes his sense of humor.”
“Good taste is not something all French people possess,” he said with a snort as she donned potholders to remove the baking sheet from the oven.
“Come on, Dean’s so sweet and funny,” Thea told him, grabbing a spatula and transferring the croissants from the parchment paper to the cooling rack. “I’m telling you. He just calls you bro because he sees you as family. One of the guys.”
“Chérie,you know I appreciate all of your friends. It is not the word so much as the way he says it. As if he were hosting a wrestling match in Las Vegas. And Sawyer is not helping by aiding it. I had thought he was more refined than that.”
This time her snort turned into a chuckle. “There’s more to Sawyer than his Voltaire and Rousseau quotes.”
He leaned over the croissants and inhaled deeply, groaning in the way the baker in her appreciated. The woman in her appreciated the desire behind it. “And Dean is more than a humorous, drooling…ah…you would say class clown in English, correct?”
“Correct.” She opened the cupboard and pulled out a plate. Before, her life had consisted of eating off of one plate—all alone in her small apartment in Iowa as she watched other people’s lives on Netflix. Now, she did the whole French thing—partagé.The French word for sharing with someone was so hot if you asked her. She picked up two chocolate croissants and put them on the plate as Jean Luc made them both a morning café crème. He really had a flair for making coffee, something he’d learned from his mother.
“Are you worried that Dean’s interest in Jacqueline will cause problems with acquiring the cave?” Jean Luc asked as he steamed the milk.
She knew by the way his brow knit that his lawyer-side was talking. Well, he was Nanine’s lawyer, after all, and now he also represented The Paris Roommates Group. He had a strong interest in them acquiring the cave. “We’ve talked to him about it. Or I should say Kyle has, mostly.”
“Good.” Jean Luc finished off their coffees. “It is worth repeating. Especially to a man who is drooling over a woman.”
“That’s exactly the way you’d say it in English,” she said brightly, not wanting to be reminded of what was at stake.
“It’s a proud moment in English fluency for me, for sure,” he said dryly. “Perhaps I will even tease Dean about his drooling nature given that we are bros now.”
Right. That was the kind of razzing guys did, so she wouldn’t interfere. She trusted Dean, and while he was infatuated with this woman, he knew how important the cave was to all of them, especially Nanine. Even more, he seemed to think his next “It” idea was tied to both the cave and Pierre, and she believed him—even if she didn’t understand how it all would come together. Hadn’t she quit her job and come to Paris, not knowing what was next, but feeling like it was the right move? Of course, she’d felt the urge to throw up—and possibly give up—but she hadn’t. She’d gone with her gut. As Sawyer liked to say, stability was a limiting belief for most humans, and while she didn’t always understand his philosophical arguments, that one had stuck.
Jean Luc handed her the café, knowing she preferred to stay on her feet while she was breadmaking. She glanced over at her loaves, smiling to see that they were happily rising in their snug little cloths, bubbles emerging on the tops, showing the beautiful symphony of flour, bread, and yeast. Gosh, she loved her job.
“You are dreamy, and I must admit, you are never so beautiful,ma Thea.”
She smiled softly at him as he sipped his coffee, still standing nude in the kitchen. Some days she couldn’t believe he could go around being so natural about it all. She still made sure the curtains were pulled when she undressed, knowing anyone in the apartments across the way would be able to see in. Of course, Jean Luc said that was Paris, and he was right. From time to time, one did see nude people in the windows, but she still hadn’t gotten used to it yet. And she certainly wasn’t comfortable with putting on such a display herself!
“I was hoping to talk to you about something,” he said, setting his cup down on the counter. “Have you given more thought to our wedding date?”
She choked on her café, making his dark brows furrow. “I think about marrying you all the time! I mean, I can’t wait for it. But with the restaurant opening next month and the bakery—”
“Will be opening someday, but we do not yet know when because of the paperwork and renovations,” he finished, folding his arms across his gorgeous chest. “You also forgot to mention your thirtieth birthday coming up next week.”
She waved a hand through the air. “Oh, that! I’m not…thinking about that.”
Except she was. Because her new family—including Jean Luc’s—was throwing her a party. Not that she was going to ask about it. She wanted the details to be a surprise.
“I know you are worried about your parents being at the wedding, but I have said I would be happy to fly them over, along with anyone else you might want there.”
