Page 95 of Julien (Confessions 2)

“Wh…what? No. You don’t have to do that. I can—”

“We’d like to,” Julien said in his ear.

“So let us.”

Robbie swallowed and arched a brow at Priest. “You know it’s not fair to double-team me like this.”

The image those words brought to mind was exactly the one Robbie wanted, judging by the devilish grin that curved his lips. Rascal.

“And here we thought you liked it when we did that.” Priest and Julien released him, both knowing if they continued down this path they were going to end up doing something that would likely get them thrown out of the store, and possibly into jail.

“I do,” Robbie said as he sashayed back to the dressing room, and as he slipped inside and the door closed behind him, he called out over his shoulder, “But I much prefer wearing nothing at all for those occasions.”

Julien chuckled as he walked over to where Priest stood staring at the dressing room, and then he asked, “How’s your heart doing there, Mr. Priestley?”

Priest wrapped his arm around Julien’s waist, and as they headed back to their seats, he said, “About the same as yours, I’d hazard to guess.”

“Completely and utterly sunk, then?”

Priest took hold of Julien’s chin and kissed him nice and deep until finally he raised his head and replied, “Oui, like an anchor in the deepest ocean, Mr. Thornton. Completely and utterly sunk.”

“ONE ORDER OF mozzarella sticks and one loaded potato skins?” the waitress said, as she came to a stop at the edge of the table and all three men seated in it turned to stare up at her.

Julien frowned, not at all excited by what she held in her hands, but Robbie, who was seated beside him, nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s us.”

She slid them down onto the tabletop, smiled, and said, “Your mains will be out soon. Enjoy.”

As she walked away, Julien picked up one of the small fried cheese sticks and held it up for inspection, then lowered it to the plate and said, “Why are we eating here, again?”

Robbie took two potato skins from the main plate and scooped a dollop of some sour cream on top of them. “Because it was my pick and I like it here.”

Julien looked around the restaurant—or brewhouse, as they called it—and took in the bar at the center with sports on the television behind it, and the booths that lined the walls and angled its patrons to the televisions in each corner.

It wasn’t overly crowded for a weekday, and Julien couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

Robbie had just finished swallowing a mouthful of food when he looked over at him and grinned. “Because the food is great and the atmosphere is relaxed. Well, most of the time. You are a snob, Mr. Thornton.”

Priest smirked, reached for one of the cheese sticks, and dunked it in the marinara sauce. “You’re only now working that out?”

Robbie shook his head. “No, I guess not. But I’ve never seen someone so offended by a mozzarella stick.”

“Pardon,” Julien said, as he sat back in his seat and aimed a haughty look at the two laughing at him. “I just asked why you liked this place, that’s all.”

Robbie made a show of licking his fingers. “Because it’s full of greasy, yummy goodness.” When Julien screwed his nose up, Robbie laughed even harder. “You should try some.”

“I think I’ll wait for my main meal.”

“Wow,” Robbie said. “If you lift that French nose of yours much higher, you’re gonna give yourself a nosebleed.”

“Just because I care about what I put in my mouth—”

“Which we are both extremely thankful for,” Priest said, and winked at Robbie, who looked like he might melt under that unexpected and flirty move from him.

“Doesn’t mean that I’m a snob.”

“You’re right,” Priest said, as he picked up another mozzarella stick, clearly enjoying himself. “The fact that you picked the cheese stick up and inspected it like a surgeon, and then put it down and refused to taste it? That makes you a snob, mon cœur.”

Robbie laughed, as he picked up his glass of Coke to take a sip. “Priest’s right.”

“I drink a green juice every morning for breakfast. I don’t do that because I like it,” Julien said, and glared at Priest, who was smirking—smug bastard. “I do it because it’s healthy. I’m not putting that in me.”

Priest bit down on one of the cheese sticks and bared his teeth in a wicked grin, before making a show out of chewing and swallowing it. “As long as you consider me healthy and keep putting me in you, I find I really don’t care if you like the cheese sticks or—”

Priest’s words came to an abrupt halt, and as his eyes left Julien’s and rose over his and Robbie’s heads, he lowered his half-eaten cheese stick to the plate in front of him.

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