Page 48 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“And yet you impressed the food writer fromLe Monde.” Nanine turned and regarded her. “I believe you underestimate your appeal to others, Fifth Course.”
“I agree,” Pierre chimed in, rocking on his perch.
Madison could feel her cheeks heat from embarrassment, so not her normal. “Nanine, when you named all of the roommates after the courses in a French meal, you dubbed me the cheese plate for a good reason. Enough said.”
“I disagree.” She leaned against the stainless steel counter as Madison began to prep for the dish, unpacking her duck breast and slashing the fat back in crisscrosses. “A cheese plate is one of the most memorable courses. The world over recognizes its French origin. It is an honor to serve something so simple yet so complex, so memorable. My dear Fifth Course, that is you, and that is why I love you.”
Pierre expressed his love with the sound of kisses being smacked, God help them. Madison stuck to her task, ducking under the stove to pull out a saucepan, even though she was awash in rare emotion. “I love you too, Nanine.”
“I know the words come hard for you, and that you struggle to see yourself as I do, but I have faith that you will someday. Thea has made the journey. I believe it is a journey you all will make, being back here in Paris. I will help you as much as I can as I myself transform. Which is why I would like you to come to my quarters once a week so I can share my secrets with you. From the kitchen.”
“I love secrets,” Pierre exclaimed, flapping his wings in delight.
Madison stilled. This wasseriousFrench chef talk. Her heart started pounding. Hell, this was a freaking honor. “That would be…great, Nanine. Any time that is good for you.”
“You are the one who is head chef now, Madison, so you tell me what works for you.”
Nanine looked around the kitchen with nostalgia, and Madison’s heart felt wretched for her. What would it feel like to have the one thing you loved most taken away? Madison had endured a lot of pain—physical hunger, her mother’s abandonment, her father’s neglect, heartbreak from the boy who’d betrayed her love, and grief from the news that Nanine had collapsed from a heart attack. But losing her ability to be a chef? What would she have left to live for?
A gentle hand touched her arm, and she met Nanine’s sad eyes. “You are feeling bad for me. Don’t. I have everything I could need in myself and with my dear Courses around me. Life changes,chérie.We love. We age. We…adapt. I mean, do we not have a parrot in the kitchen in a chef’s uniform?”
“I am very handsome,” Pierre announced with what looked like a twinkle in his black eyes.
Humor lifted the first layer of hurt from Madison’s heart, and she felt her mouth twitch. Nanine’s mirrored hers.
“Am I not wearing yoga clothes?” Nanine gave a good-natured French shrug as Pierre whistled and called outpretty. “Bernard would laugh heartily at the sight, I think.”
“From what you have told us of him, I expect so.” She reached out a hand to rub Nanine’s arm, something Thea did with great ease to comfort someone. It felt totally unnatural to Madison. But people liked and needed connection, she’d read in her business books on team building. Maybe even her, the ultra-lone wolf. At least she’d thought of herself that way until she’d found Nanine and her roommates. Now she didn’t want to think about life without them.
“Hey! Are you guys having a moment?”
They both turned and looked at Dean, who was grinning at them from the kitchen doorway with a half-eaten morning croissant in his hand.
But it was Kyle, standing behind him, who drew her attention. His ash-brown hair was still wet from his shower, his jaw looked freshly shaven, and for a moment the way he looked at her—with all that heat and irritation—had her defenses shattering.
They should never have kissed.
Wasn’t it her luck that the one time she’d decided to play the part of Good Samaritan it would bite her in the ass? He was her friend, maybe her best friend, and that damn kiss had blown open a door she’d never thought had existed between them.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she feared he’d seen past her mask. His friends-only mask was slipping way too often for comfort, but she wasn’t going to let hers fall.
They both had too much to lose here, and they knew it. She was going to play dumb and be his friend until the end of time if she had to. He needed to get with the program, because she did not want to have to kick him for feeling like he did when she felt it too.
She punched up a smile. “Yes. Nanine was just counseling me about the perils of killing someone in the kitchen. But I think it’s a small price to pay for the indignity you’ve done to my friend.”
Hopefully Pierre wouldn’t know they were talking about his chef’s jacket. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings and that put her in an alternate universe for sure.
Dean grimaced. “Madison, I thought it was a stroke of genius. I even sent a photo to Gustave atLe Monde, and he plans to run a follow-up article. That’s good press. Pierre, my man, looking good in the uniform.”
“Thank you, Dean,” Pierre answered with a squawk.
She turned on the stove and threw the duck breasts in because she liked to render them slowly. “We want attention on the menu, not the parrot.”
“We can have both,” Kyle put in, still watching her way too closely. “But I’ll follow up with Gustave. Can we tease the lobster salad to him?”
She threw up her hands. “That five-minute salad isn’t—”
“Kyle,” Nanine said, “why don’t we let Madison do what she does best in creating the menu while you and a few others handle the press?”
