Page 92 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Paris ups your game.” He shrugged. “Although I couldn’t get all the paint out from under my fingernails. Hey, Jacqueline, I know we’ve met, but it’s been a while, so just saying… I’m Sawyer.”
“It’s good to see you again,” she said, a little more formal than before, but that was all right. They’d find her acoupof champagne, and she’d start getting to know everyone and relax again.
Dean put his hand to Jacqueline’s back. “Shall we go up?”
Sawyer took the lead and called up again to be buzzed in a second time. The elevator looked tiny, so Sawyer grabbed the birdcage and said he’d take the stairs. Dean took the opportunity inside the elevator to exchange a fleeting, flirtatious kiss with Jacqueline. They were both laughing as the elevator stopped. Sawyer was already at the door, but he threw a look over his shoulder as if to say,Get a hold of yourself.
Right. Dean made sure his suit coat was straight. At the door, he leaned over to Sawyer. “How’s my hair? Does it look like Jacqueline ran her fingers through it?”
Sawyer gave him a solid nudge in the ribs. “Man, you are so gone.”
Thea opened the door with a grinning Fabiana. His small-town sister was wearing a hot pink party dress Dean thought looked like it belonged in a 1950s sitcom. He imagined Brooke had done her up, as her brown hair was swept into an elegant side pony that suited her sunshine disposition.
Sawyer rushed forward to hug her. “Happy birthday, little sister.”
“I was wondering if you’d forgotten, Sawyer,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You haven’t left the atelier in days.”
“Didn’t you feel that way when you got a job at your first bakery?” he asked.
She gave a dreamy sigh, looking like the young girl they’d first met ten years ago. “I so did. Hi, Dean. And hello, Jacqueline. Welcome! This is Fabiana Mercier, Jean Luc’s mother, and one of the most incredible women I know.”
“She only says that because we share a love for my son and both fight the great fight to find beautiful shoes in our size,” Fabiana said, embracing Jacqueline and then kissing both of her cheeks. “Come! You like to eat, I hope. Jean Luc told me not to go crazy, but I am Italian and a mother. There is no stopping me from cooking up a hurricane. Is that the right word in English?”
“Storm,” Sawyer corrected, “but hurricane works for me. I’m starved.”
“Oh, you artists!” Fabiana exclaimed, the long sleeves of her 1920s-inspired blue pantsuit making her look like she had wings. “I can’t wait to see your work.”
Sawyer nearly deflated like a leaking balloon before their eyes, hunching his shoulders. “It’s a little early for that.”
Time to save Doc. “They told you we were bringing our parrot, Pierre, right?” Dean asked Fabiana as he set the cage on a chair.
“Yes, and I couldn’t wait to meet the famous Pierre of theplan culincident,” she declared after a dramatic nod, throwing off the burgundy throw and bending over from her grand height of something like five-eleven, only she was wearing three-inch heels, so she looked like an Amazon. “Oh, he is spectacular in that cape. Pierre. I am Fabiana, and someday you will come here, and we will cook Italian food.”
Pierre gave a happy squawk. “Enchanté, Fabiana! I love cooking.”
She opened his cage and extended her arm to him. He quickly hopped on, and she drew him out like a pro, giving him a conspiratorial smile. “Have you ever made cannolis? Come, I made a medley for tonight. Chocolate stuffed, lemon stuffed, and hazelnut stuffed, which is my husband’s favorite. He will thank me later, I am sure. Well-fed men are so much more generous, you know.”
Dean’s stomach rumbled as he laughed along with the others.
Jacqueline leaned closer to him and whispered, “I plan to test that theory tonight.”
His brain went to mush, and someone nudged him. He looked over to see Sawyer holding out a handkerchief with a grin. Yeah, he was drooling, and he wasn’t even ashamed of it.
“Oh, Jean Luc!” Thea exclaimed, turning in delight as he appeared with a drink tray. “Champagne! Come. Let’s toast.”
Dean grabbed a flute for his dream girl first and then saw to himself—like he preferred to do in the bedroom—which she was definitely getting a refresher on after her comment. “To Thea! Happy thirtieth, little sister!”
“May you continue to be sweet,” Sawyer added, “and grow in grace and wisdom with friends and loved ones always around you.”
She teared up immediately and gave them a watery smile. “That’s the sweetest quote ever, Sawyer. Thank you.”
“I made it up,” he said softly, which earned him another kiss from the birthday girl as everyone touched flutes and took a sip.
“Hey!” Brooke called from the doorway. “You’d better not be toasting without the rest of us.”
“Guilty!” Dean blew her a kiss. “Don’t worry. Doc here is a regular toastmaster.”
“I’m here all night,” Sawyer exclaimed with a bow. “Fabiana, I’m eager to try your fabulous food.”
