Page 28 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
She traced his jaw. He was so eloquent, and she was so lucky to have such a wise, generous man. “That is a wonderful perspective, and I’m going to write it down in my journal. I’m also going to talk to Brooke about my dress. I’ve been delaying it because I know she was going to suggest paying for it. I’ll let your mother know once we have plans.”
He worried his mouth before saying, “My love, I’m sorry to tell you but your friends have already talked to me about wanting to help. They knew you were upset about how much money they’d spent on your makeover and the bakery.”
“So you guys decided on a united front,” she concluded with a nod. “All right, I’m leaning into my new perspective. I’ll talk to my friends and get back to you.”
He tapped her nose before kissing it playfully. “All right, but don’t wait too long. You might recall that members of my family fall in love quickly and marry quickly. And I do so ever want to marry you. Thea, I don’t want to wait.”
Nanine had always told her to listen to her heart, and its message was suddenly clear. “I don’t want to wait either.”
“Then we will arrange a wedding that will make us the happiest.” He leaned down slowly, and she met him halfway for a long, slow kiss that settled the last of the unrest in her heart. “Now, how about we enjoy your chocolate croissants?”
She kissed him once more before turning to the single plate on the counter. “I think that’s a great idea.”
He bit into his and groaned before looking up at her. She caught the French he muttered, something that includedà tomber par terre. Then the words registered in English. He was going to drop to the ground! Horror and panic pulsed through her. Was that why he’d groaned?
“Oh my God, Jean Luc!” She grabbed the closest kitchen chair to push him into it, only her suddenness caught him off-balance. He fell onto the floor along with the chair, which grazed his face before he thrust it away.
“What are you doing,ma Thea?”
She fell to the ground beside him, touching the slight cut along his right cheek, which was swelling. “I thought something was wrong with you when you said—”
“It’s a French saying that means something is drop-dead good.” He started to laugh, a deep and gusty laugh he only gave when he was with those he loved. This was a laugh she wanted to hear every day for the rest of her life, one she’d written about in her journal.
“Maybe you shouldn’t say phrases that make me think about sickness and death.” She dabbed the cut with her apron. “Oh, Jean Luc. I’m so sorry. I hurt you.”
“Nothing fatal.” He smirked and started to untie her apron. “Do you English speakers not have the phrase about kissing it to make it better? Thea, I need you to kiss it and make it better.”
Despite herself, she had to smile. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this because you could have gotten seriously hurt.”
“I have a thick skull.” He drew her apron over her head and tossed it to the floor. “You are at a good point to pause with your baking.”
She raised a brow, which was something she’d seen the other confident women in her life do—Brooke, Madison, and Nanine—but had never done herself until recently. Jean Luc shrugged out of his robe. Mr. Naked was definitely a very good look on him. “How do you know that?”
“I have been paying attention and watching some baking videos on YouTube when you were watching how to sew a wedding dress.” He laughed again, and this time she joined in.
“You do know that we’re on the kitchen floor, right? And that I have to put those loaves in the oven soon.”
His smile was downright devilish now. “I can see your digital timer, my love, so have no fear. You keep your focus on me. I’ll deliver you with the most perfect little death before the alarm goes off. You do rememberthatphrase in French, don’t you? Surely you do not wish me to cease its use.”
La petite mort.Now that was a phrase she happily knew and had no trouble allowing.
“Fine, I’m ready to die, Jean Luc,” she said with a laugh as she tugged the rest of her clothes off and threw them across the kitchen floor, something she would add to her recipe for her delicious life later.
CHAPTERSEVEN
It was Date Day for Dean, and on first dates, the air always smelled sweeter, the world looked brighter, and everything seemed possible.
This had been part of his truth since his first date to the movies with his first official girlfriend, Aspen Fogrash, at fifteen. Sure, the feeling hadn’t lasted. She’d broken his heart by dumping him for a surfer from Malibu that summer after using him to get an A in Geometry without studying. It had taken him a long while to hear things like aspen trees, the Aspen Institute, skiing in Aspen, Colorado, without being triggered. Aspen had left him with a thousand questions about why a guy named Buck—who shaved his body and never officially bathed—was preferable to him.
Women mystified Dean, but he still loved them, still enjoyed worshipping them and unlocking what made them tick, down to whether they preferred lipstick to lip gloss or French braids to ponytails. As he blew himself a kiss in the steamy bathroom mirror, he inhaled the fragrant air already around him. Today was the day he’d start that sweet journey with his dream girl, Jacqueline, and discover what madehertick.
“Dean!” Kyle pounded on the door. “You’ve been in there an hour. Some of us want to shower. I’m sure you look pretty. Open the fucking door!”
Ah, roommates. He thought about chucking off his clothes and flashing his friend, but time was short. He had only a half hour before meeting his dream girl. Still, he took his time walking the three measly steps to the door. “Morning, sweetheart,” he said, swinging the door open. “Aren’t you showering a little late?”
“I worked late, asshole.” Kyle grabbed him by the lapel of his casual but sophisticated bespoke suit and yanked him into the hallway. “I don’t think you used enough hair gel, Dean.”
He knew his hair was perfect, so he didn’t rise to the bait. “You woke up grouchy. I’ll tell Thea to put extra sugar in yourcafé crèmebefore I leave to meet the beautiful Jacqueline.”
