Page 49 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Absolutely, Nanine,” Kyle said after clearing his throat. “Anything Madison needs.”
She wanted to beat her head against the wall, because she couldn’t bear hearing her name and needs mentioned in the same sentence in that soft, sexy drawl of his.
Sawyer stumbled into the kitchen, his wild black curls in unusual disarray. “Coffee,” he groaned like a zombie.
Kyle immediately turned toward their other roommate, thank God. “How late were you up painting last night? You look terrible.”
Madison wasn’t surprised. Sawyer had continued to push on despite Kyle’s suggestion about hiring live models. He’d insisted that hiring anyone—and especially hiring a special place for him to paint—would be a waste of everyone’s time. Stubborn. She and Doc had that in common, so she’d kept quiet.
“I don’t know,” Sawyer muttered finally, scratching his unshaven cheek. “I didn’t seem to make any progress. God, but I need coffee before I can look at this cave.”
Kyle turned him back toward the stairs. “Go back to bed, Doc. Thea’s not coming because she said she didn’t think she could add value and would rather test bread recipes. You don’t need to either. We can brief you.”
“Are you sure?” Sawyer asked hopefully. “Because I don’t shirk my duty.”
He did look terrible, but it was more than lack of sleep. He looked defeated. She understood that feeling. She had it when she was alone facing her damn duck recipe and the reopening of the restaurant and all the things she had to do to make it successful and win a star. Because failure was not happening on her watch. “You heard Kyle, Doc. Bounce. I’ll look up a fittingly snooty quote from one of your eggheads so you’re represented.”
“Gosh, Madison, that’s maybe the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Sawyer headed to the stairs. “There’s a great one from Voltaire about the wine returning the kiss of the glass with a caress.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Madison said with a smile as he disappeared.
“I’m heading up to change,” Nanine told them. “Our cave awaits.”
Dean polished off the rest of his croissant as Madison wiggled the duck breasts in the pan. “I can’t wait to hear that wine and kisses quote since I plan to shower Jacqueline with more poetry on our next date tomorrow night. And before you ask, she didn’t say anything about today’s meeting when I texted her this morning.”
“She’s so French, and in a way I’m really coming to appreciate,” Kyle said with a grin. “I’ve got no fraternizing concerns should she want to come on board with us. Honestly, my money’s on her not even publicly acknowledging that you were a couple.”
“Not even if he was wearing that legendary kisser T-shirt?” Madison gave a snort and then froze as Kyle’s gaze swung to her.
Dammit! What had she been thinking, talking about kisses? She picked up a spatula and poked her meat, anything to distract her from Kyle and his arousing presence.
“Maybe, but I’d do my best to persuade her otherwise.” Dean gave a gusty sigh. “Speaking of persuading. All our efforts to help Sawyer aren’t going anywhere, and I’m getting worried about the pressure he’s putting on himself over those paintings. He fell asleep on his tarp with a paintbrush in his hand, and he was talking in his sleep about colors not being right. Next thing you know we’ll need to lock up the knives to keep him from cutting his ear off.”
That had Madison looking over. “That’s not funny, Dean.”
“Didn’t say it was.”
Kyle rubbed his jaw. “You know how he is. Nothing is good enough.”
Dean lowered his voice. “Do you think we should give him a break and hire someone else to do them?”
Rage bloomed inside of Madison. He might mean well, but Sawyer would see it the way she did—that they were giving up on him. They might as well call in another chef to head up Nanine’s because she was struggling with this duck recipe. She walked over and smacked Dean. “Cut that out! We are not hiring someone else. Didn’t you hear Sawyer? He always does his duty. Like the rest of us. You think I haven’t had moments when I want to pull my hair out or toss a few pans against the wall as I fail to get a dish right? It’s called the creative process, Dean. Sawyer will be fine. He’s an incredible artist. You don’t say shit like that. It would destroy him if you took away what he’d promised Nanine, what he loves.”
“No one is replacing anybody,” Kyle said tightly, coming closer to her.
God, his blue eyes were filled with concern. She could fight attraction. But how was she supposed to fight that?
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dean said in an emotion-laden voice. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “Fine. We won’t speak of this again.”
Kyle shifted on his feet, and she turned around to study her frying pan and take a calming breath.
Dean came over and nudged her in the side. “Do you want to see which boxers I’m wearing today?”
“No, I so do not,” she said, making Pierre laugh.
“I’m telling you anyway,” he insisted. “I slapped on extra aftershave along with my dancing Eiffel Tower boxers.”
