Page 86 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
Red was the color Madison saw as she caught up to Kyle on the street. “You need to turn around and come back with me.”
He didn’t even glance back at her, which made her fist her hands to her sides as he kept walking. “Right now, Kyle. We don’t walk out on each other.” The fear that he was really walking out, that he wouldn’t be back, was making her sick.
“I’ll celebrate with Dean later,” he tersely replied. “I told you I have somewhere to be.”
She grabbed his arm and did her best to haul him to a stop, but his forearm was all muscle, and he wasn’t playing ball. He pulled free and kept walking away with the stick up his butt.
Fuming, she followed, dodging bystanders on the narrow sidewalk. “You’re lying. you don’t have a meeting. You’re pissed at me. Dean doesn’t deserve that. He’s been talking about this ‘It’ idea since forever, and you just walk out right when it’s starting to click for him? What kind of friend are you?” The moment the words were out, she wanted to call them back, but they had the effect of making him stop, which made her head swim with relief.
He whirled around, forcing a young couple to step into the street to avoid them. “A friend doesn’t attack another friend for doing something nice. Know anyone like that? So, take your rotten attitude and head back to the party. Because I’m not going back right now.”
Her rotten attitude? Didn’t he understand why she was so upset? “We’re having this out. Right now. I am not going to let our fight spoil something important for Dean.”
He took off again. “Buzz off, Madison.”
No way was she doing that. If he walked away now, she felt in her gut that she’d never get him back. She lurched forward until she could put the flat of her hand against the middle of his back and wrest his right wrist at an odd angle, forcing him to do her bidding or feel very uncomfortable.
“Hey!” he called, struggling against her self-defense lock. “What the hell? Get your hands off me.”
That wasn’t what he really wanted, and that was their problem. “Keep yelling and you’ll get us arrested.” She noted the wary looks from bystanders and called out, “He’s just asked me to marry him, and I can’t get him home fast enough.”
Sure, he went rigid, and she swore she heard his swift intake of breath alongside the shocked looks of bystanders. But a few people smiled. God, people were such suckers for love and romance, but hey, this was Paris. Half the world came here to get engaged, take wedding photos, or have a honeymoon or anniversary.
“You areunbelievable,” he said harshly. “Now fucking let go of my wrist.”
“Only if you promise to come to Nanine’s so we can have this out.” She could not bear to keep going like this. He was too important to her for her to let a stupid attraction get in the way. “We are not doing this on the street. We live here.”
He cursed fluently, in EnglishandFrench. “Fine. Hands off.”
She released him immediately, watching him like a hawk. But he only continued walking stiffly next to her in ear-grating silence. She dug her nails into her palms. God, she needed to buck up for what they were about to say. The chandelier clanged noisily when they entered Nanine’s, as if sensing the anger in the air.
Pierre fluttered his wings before saying, “Bonjour.Ça va?”
Terrific. Even a parrot could see they were in a snit. “We’re fine, Pierre. You watch the kitchen for me. I’ll be right back.”
She put her hand on Kyle’s back to lead him to the stairs. He turned and glared at her. “I said hands off, dammit.”
He was such a liar. “Your floor or ours?” she asked instead as they ascended the stairs.
“Which floor is going to make you act like less of a bitch?”
A bitch? Was that how he was going to play it? “I’d caution you against using that word with me. It pisses me off, like it does with most women.”
“If the shoe fits,” was his terse answer, and he kept going until they reached his floor, stalking into the area behind the couch and opening the window. “So talk. I have things to do.”
“Talk?”She gripped the top of the couch, anchoring herself. “Having it out means you talking back. You were the one who completely lost it back there. I thanked you for the kitchen, Kyle. God, I even hugged you.”
“You threw it back in my face!” he raved, flicking open his jacket.
“I did not!”
“You did too.” He thrust his finger out, his blue eyes blowtorch hot now. “You implied I’d only outfitted the kitchen so you could cook for me. For everyone. Like I think of you as a servant.”
“I meant it as a joke.” She’d meant it as a way to push him back because he was getting too close.
“You did not, Madison. Don’t you lie to me.”
“It was getting intense.” She came around the couch. “I’d just hugged you—”
