Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Kyle was on Operation Sawyer duty.
The new antique clock in the salon had finished chiming the eleven o’clock hour. Doc still hadn’t come down, having worked in his studio again all day. Of course, they’d been bringing takeout to his door. Brooke had ordered it, and Kyle had delivered it.
His last run to the third floor to drop off food had been at seven o’clock.
There’d been no sign of Sawyer since.
It was Friday night, and Kyle was mostly alone in the house. Now that half of their roommates had their Plus Ones, date night was a hot commodity. So here he was, working alone. But his heart wasn’t in it. He missed being with his friends.
One in particular—Madison.
Since the restaurant had opened, she’d been coming home around eleven thirty every night. When she got home, she usually went up to her room pretty fast, saying she needed to get out of her food-scented clothes.
Not something he needed to think about.
But she still wasn’t home tonight, and he figured she was probably avoiding him since she knew Sawyer was MIA and everyone else was out.
If she came home at the usual time, they’d be alone together, something they were having trouble with. Their attraction was so hot it could sear a steak, and they both knew it.
Which left him unsettled and out of sorts. He wanted her. She wanted him. They were best friends. Wasn’t that the basis for a good relationship?
But God, the risk. They both knew what was at stake, and she was under enough pressure. It would kill him to add more on her shoulders.
He lay back on the couch and closed his eyes, only rising when he heard someone trudging down the stairs.
Sawyer. He emerged from the salon to greet his friend, and his paint-covered friend jumped. “Whoa! What are you doing down here? It’s almost midnight.”
He wasn’t going to mention he was waiting up for Madison like he did every night—to make sure she was okay; to see if she needed anything; to simply…see her, if only for a moment.
“I was working,” he answered, leaning against the doorway. “Like you. You seem to be over your agonizing over every detail stage.”
“Oh, there’s still agony.” He pushed his glasses up his nose.
“But I limit it to a few minutes before diving into painting. Axel and I agree speed is my friend, so it’s become my new process.
When I paint nonstop, I don’t think. I don’t even know time passes.
It’s freaking awesome. I don’t know how I didn’t know this before. ”
Kyle couldn’t help but grin. “Glad you’re figuring out what works. You certainly look happier with yourself. Hungry?”
“Starved,” he admitted. “Thanks for the takeout today. I’m sorry if you have to be around the house to receive it.”
They headed to the kitchen. “No biggie. My office is here.”
Sawyer opened what he called their refrigerator bookcase—the wall of mini coolers with glass fronts. “Madison still at the restaurant?”
He checked his watch again, his eagerness growing as the second hand ticked on his Swiss watch. “Yeah, but she’ll be here soon.”
“Be good to see her,” Sawyer said, taking out the foie gras and hunting up the bread in the bread box where Thea always left her loaves. “I haven’t seen anybody.”
Should he mention it? Yeah, because they were friends. “I know. Not even Phoebe, although Brooke said it sounded like the date went well.”
Doc’s smile was lovesick. “It did. I’m seeing her tomorrow.
I finally need to leave the paint cave. I had this vision that I could go on painting forever.
Years would pass. Suddenly I’d look into the mirror and my hair would be gray and my face lined.
I would never have felt time pass. It was totally weird, dude. ”
“Totally,” he had to repeat, making Sawyer laugh. “Maybe we should agree on the number of days you can be closeted up there before we hold an intervention.”
Sawyer started slicing the bread. “I don’t think we’ve reached it. Besides, I don’t want to be stopped. If I could keep going like this—no interruptions—I think I could have an entire gallery show painted in a couple of months.”
Kyle went over and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler before sitting across from Sawyer at the kitchen island. “You’re painting that fast?”
He grinned, looking boyish with his wild curly black hair dotted with swirls of white, blue, and purple paint. “I have a muse.”
No man smiled like that over a friend. “Phoebe.”
“Yeah.” He stuffed bread and foie gras into his mouth after heaving a hefty sigh.
“Brooke said she’d mentioned our little trip to her gallery.” When Sawyer only nodded, Kyle rested his elbow on the island. “I was impressed with the way she handled us, Doc.”
“She’s smart,” he responded, wiping his mouth. “Good with people. Brave. Honest. God, I’m really into her, and we’ve only gone out once. When I first saw her, man, it was like Cupid’s arrow struck my heart.”
Of course he’d think of Cupid. “And Phoebe likes the Bard, as Dean says.”
“Uh-huh.” Sawyer cut another piece of bread. “So hot. We text quotes to each other. Not that I haven’t done it before, but this is next level. Our texting is out of sight!”
Obviously, especially since she’d inspired Sawyer to paint like he hadn’t before.
Kyle only worried what would happen if things went south between them.
Would Sawyer be unable to paint? Would he hole up in his studio and stare at the walls?
Doc was sensitive, and this was new territory.
They would have to be prepared for anything.
“Where are you taking her tomorrow?”
Another dreamy look, one he’d gotten used to seeing on Dean. “Somewhere unique. I hope. I thought I’d show her all my favorite bookshops in Paris before we ended up at Chez Marie.”
“Nanine’s and Thea’s and Jean Luc’s favorite. Nice choice. Casual yet warm and welcoming. Good food.”
“Afterward, we can walk around Montmartre.” His gaze was so unfocused Kyle knew he was already imagining being there. “It might be corny but it’s romantic, seeing the view from the city up there.”
Would Madison think so?
Kyle almost knocked his water bottle over. God, what was he doing? He could not imagine their first date. Or any date…
Speaking of. Where the hell was she? He checked his watch.
It was nearing midnight. Had they closed later?
Except they’d agreed to close the restaurant at ten thirty—the same schedule Nanine’s had always kept.
Cleanup with her staff didn’t take that long.
Had she gotten delayed? He picked up his phone to text her, only to set it aside.
“You worried about Madison?” Sawyer’s eyes weren’t glassy anymore. He was staring fixedly at Kyle.
“No. Just wondering what’s keeping her.”
“Why don’t we swing by the restaurant and see? I can say I needed more sustenance than this house had to offer and see if she’ll feed me any leftovers.”
Kyle cleared his throat. Doc was too smart by half. Hell, everyone in the house knew about the connection between him and Madison. They’d all simply agreed not to ask about it.
Because his roommates also knew what was at stake.
Which meant he should probably leave her alone, let her come home when she was ready. But it was almost twelve…
What if something had happened to her?
Fuck it, he would go. What she thought of it was her deal. He had a right to be concerned. They were best friends. They were roommates. They were—
He needed to stop thinking. Right the fuck now. “I’ll grab my coat and meet you at the front door.”
Sawyer arrived in the foyer in fresh clothes, and given the water droplets in his hair, he’d tried to clean up some paint.
The night was cold when they let themselves out, but that wasn’t a surprise.
December had arrived in Paris, and already Thea was talking about her wish for one of Paris’ magical snowstorms.
He got it. There was something pretty damn special about Paris in the snow. Then again, Paris anytime worked for him. Always had.
The walk to the restaurant was quick, what with it being around the corner.
Kyle could feel the ripple of nerves in his stomach as they reached the back door. How would she react when she first saw him? Would her gorgeous golden eyes narrow in aggravation? Or would a soft smile slip out before she stopped it because she liked that he cared?
Sawyer was opening the back door with his key, Kyle following him inside, as Nanine’s chandelier gave a welcoming jangle. The warmth from the kitchen was a welcome rush to his cold face.
The scene before him was not.
Chef Rico Gurat was standing at a spotless stainless steel counter with Madison, drinking mezcal and looking way too cozy.
Madison’s head swung toward him, her face blanching with shock before it shuttered like a car putting up tinted windows. He couldn’t read her. That was the point.
And it fucking hurt.
“Hey!” Sawyer called out, not breaking stride. “I’ve emerged from my artistic chrysalis and needed food. Bread and foie gras were not enough to fill this hollow human shell.”
Madison gave Sawyer an indulgent smile. “Eat whatever you can find in the walk-in, Doc. You’ve been at it for days. You remember Chef Rico, right? We worked together at La Fleur in Miami, and he’s head chef at—”
“Maison Su, which means House of Fire.” Sawyer extended his hand. “I like how you combined French and Basque in the name. Good to see you again. It was great of you to join the other chefs to taste Madison’s menu before Nanine’s reopened.”
The guy’s mouth curved into a self-indulgent smile that irritated the hell out of Kyle. “Clearly our input was useful since all of Paris is talking about Nanine’s.”
“In your dreams, Rico,” Madison shot back. “I’d nailed that baby before you guys came through the door, and you know it.”
“I might be persuaded to admit that—after you agree to go salsa dancing with me.”
Salsa dancing?
Then Chef Rico smiled fuller, what Kyle thought of as a smarmy smile.