Page 57 of Sawyer
They all nodded like the innocent peeps they so weren’t—except for Thea, who had baked a special braided brioche for the occasion.
“Would we do anything to mess up your love glow, Doc?” Dean quipped back, a flute of champagne in his hand. “Including mentioning your first gallery showing at your girlfriend’s place.”
“You do that, Dean, and I will use Madison’s cleaver on you,” Brooke threatened. “We are not getting betweenBeverly Merriweather and agallery owner.Axel and I talked about this on the way over. Beverly is not a woman who likes anyone to handle anything art-related except her.”
Hadn’t he come to the same conclusion? He was glad they were reminding everyone, although he hoped Dean was only messing with him.
“Dean,” Axel added, “you must listen to Brooke. Sawyer’s role is to paint. Beverly’s is to handle the business side of his career. Thankfully, this is something Phoebe knows, so don’t put her in another uncomfortable situation like you did on the night of your reconnoitering.”
“I can’t believe you guys would think I’d do that.” Dean pointed to his chest with a dramatic wince. “That hurts. Right here. But please, Brooke, let’s draw the line at you making cleaver threats. One roommate is plenty!”
Everyone was laughing as they sat around the large kitchen island. Someday soon he would paint them like this, his roommates with their Plus Ones. Drinking their champagne apéro together, casually leaning against each other. Smiles on their faces. Even Kyle and Madison, who hadn’t looked at each other much this past week.
The bell for the exterior door sounded, heralding Phoebe’s arrival. He shot his friends another look and took off to greet her after letting her in from the street. The air was cold, making him shiver. Mid-December in Paris had brought a sweet snowstorm that had made everything look like those magical Christmas villages on display in the Paris shops he loved.
His blood heated at the sight of Phoebe, his muse. And now his woman. She was wearing a furry pink coat that would have made most people look like a psychedelic teddy bear, but it suited her perfectly. Her green eyes already hinted at mischief, and he was relieved. He wanted them to like each other.
“You’re frowning already, so let’s have a pep talk,” Phoebecommented when they reached each other. “I told you not to worry. I’ve already met most of your friends, and we did fine. Besides, while you haven’t yet seen it, you should know something very important about me. Hello, by the way.”
She kissed him long and thoroughly.
His mind went blank for a moment as her spicy scent tickled over him. “Hello, and what should I know?”
Another kiss almost had him groaning, and he wondered if his roommates were getting a view of this from the windows.
“I’m brilliant at working a room,” she whispered before kissing him again. “Now, come on and watch. I’m about to unleash my awesomeness on your friends. I mean, how could they not love me?”
God, she had such a great sense of confidence. “I admire you for that and so many other things. By the way, what endearments am I allowed? I leafed through some old poetry before dinner and ran across me olde flower, sweeting, and my rose. Any preferences?”
Her gusty laugh made his belly tighten with desire. “How about duck? The character of Nick Bottom used it inA Midsummer Night's Dream.It means dear or darling and is quite posh, don’t you think?”
He snorted as he opened the door for her. “Phoebe, while I love you for your eccentric sense of humor, I cannot call you a duck. A mere fowl, however tasty, does not encapsulate your beauty or my love.”
That earned him another kiss as they entered the house. “Then I will have to selectmy rose. And will you be my Horatio?”
“The dude from Hamlet? Oh, come on, Phoebe. I’d rather be your Quixote.”
Gales of laughter erupted from her as she shook her head. “Dr. Jackson, you are a romantic, but not a dreamer. Never would you be out tilting windmills. But youarea best friend—Horatio is Hamlet’s—and you are a man of reason. I could not pay you a higher compliment.”
How could he say no when she was so delighted? “All right.”
She linked her arm through his. “Then, Horatio, lead the way!”
He matched her enthusiastic march as he guided her past the salon and dining room down the hallway to the kitchen. Everyone stood. Most of his friends were smiling.
“Welcome, Phoebe!” Apparently, Dean was the welcome wagon. “Good to see you again. I’m sure you’re thrilled to see me, Brooke, Kyle, and Madison during normal hours. Let me introduce you to some new peeps. My lady, Jacqueline Beaumont. Our dear little sister is the one in pink. Thea Rogers. Next to her in his usual pinstripes is her fiancé and our trusty lawyer, Jean Luc Mercier. The parrot bobbing his head ecstatically is Pierre. And I believe you know Axel Erikson.”
She gave him a beaming smile worthy of a queen entering a royal court. “I do. Great to see you again, Axel. Nice to meet the rest of you.”
“Enchanté,”Pierre squawked.
She walked over and stroked the top of his head without missing a beat. “So, I hear we’re drinking and playing a game tonight. How fun! Who’s going to pour me a beverage and explain the rules?”
Just like that, any ice that needed breaking broke. Kyle poured her a glass of champagne. Brooke explained the rules for the game. Thea brought out her bread as Dean drummed the counter, making her blush.
“Is that brioche caramelized?” Phoebe exclaimed, cuddling up next to him.
Thea carefully set the platter down and started slicing it with a wickedly sharp bread knife. “Yes, it’s a new recipe I’m playing with. You can tell me what you think.”
