Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Dean’s part of Operation Sawyer had been simple.
He’d given Doc a T-shirt, but after hearing about his agent’s plan for a show at the gallery run by the beautiful Phoebe Anderson, Sawyer’s muse, Dean decided his friend needed something else more than new threads.
Business cards. And a website.
People needed to know where to contact him for commissions. His agent’s name needed to be flashing in neon lights so people would know who to contact with press and gallery inquiries.
Right now, Doc’s sole focus was painting for his first show and spending time with his ladylove, Phoebe. The only time he left his atelier was to meet with her, and then he went straight back in the studio. Take-out deliveries to his door had become standard.
Which gave Dean the time he needed to get everything mocked up.
Of course, he needed photos of Sawyer’s paintings, but he’d managed to take good ones of the two in the restaurant in the off hours.
Better light anyway. But he needed more for the website unless they were going to go all mysterious and put up the site with nothing but strong font and an enigmatic COMING SOON banner.
On the Friday following Beverly’s visit, Dean picked up Sawyer’s business cards and headed over to the house. Doc would have to take the interruption.
It was the easier of the two roommates’ missions Dean had today. The other related to Madison and Kyle. Thea was worried about them, so Dean had promised to try and figure out what was going on.
When he let himself into the house, he sniffed the air.
No freshly baked bread tickled his nose.
Too bad. Until Thea’s bakery opened in February, she would be baking at Nanine’s in the early morning for the restaurant’s menu.
Of course, they had to get her married first. Only a little over a week away now.
He and his Lady Jacs were engaged too, but they hadn’t set a date yet. Pairings by Pierre’s opening in March was their focus now as much as nesting, preparing for their move into their new apartment after the holidays.
He heard a strange sound coming from the direction of Kyle’s office and decided to check in with him. He stopped short at the closed door. A highly accented voice from inside—a female’s and not Madison—had him pressing his ear to the door.
Was that Spanish?
That was enough to freak him out. Because what was Kyle thinking? He thought about calling out, You have another woman in there with you? But that wouldn’t give him the information he was looking for.
Knocking quickly, he opened the door and walked in. Sure enough, the voice was speaking Spanish, but there was no woman, thank God. Kyle broke off in the midst of repeating what was said the second he saw Dean.
“What the hell, man?” He punched a button on his computer, silencing the speaker. “You wait for a response before you enter a room. Get the fuck out.”
Good roommates ignored things like common courtesy when they stumbled upon gems like this. “Are you learning Spanish?”
Kyle’s glare was icy—and a little terrifying. Dean decided not to sit on the edge of his fancy desk. He might get shoved off.
“Yeah, I am.” He hit another button on his computer and rose from his chair, the hard set of his shoulders another fuck-off-Dean message. “Do you need something? Like a common courtesy handbook?”
“I haven’t seen you this agitated in ten years. So, being your friend and roommate, I’m throwing good sense to the wind. Are you learning this because of Madison?”
Kyle’s mouth thinned. “You’re pushing, Dean, and I’m not sure this conversation is useful.”
The salt was already in the wound, but maybe a friendly conversation would flush it out. “Thea said Chef Rico has been coming by the restaurant a lot. He and Madison have been speaking Spanish. Thea says he’s taught her a few words. It’s cute. But obviously not to you.”
His friend’s jaw was ticking.
“Nothing?” he pressed, wishing he could nudge Kyle in the ribs or something to remind them they were chums, but he’d probably deck him.
“Come on. We’re your friends, and we know what’s going on.
I know we agreed not to say anything, but maybe that’s the wrong move.
Because you’ve been…shuttered. The fact that you look like you want to sock me says it all.
Thea’s been telling me for days how much she’s worried about you—and Madison too. ”
Kyle heaved out a breath, his hands fisted by his sides.
“Talk. Don’t talk,” Dean continued, prepared to turn the guilt screws.
“But I don’t think you like Thea worrying about you guys any more than I do.
Her head should be in the clouds about getting married.
Her new bakery. But last night she pulled me aside to talk about you two and wrung wrinkles all over the cute little sash of her dress. ”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Dean paused a long beat, watching the skin practically stretch across Kyle’s anguished face.
“What can I do? I’d offer to beat up Chef Rico so he can’t swing by the restaurant anymore, but that dude looks like he could take down a VIP bouncer from lifting all those heavy cooking pots.
Besides, it’s not my way. Also, Madison isn’t really into him from what Thea tells me. Chef Rico shows up with gifts—”
“Hang on,” Kyle interrupted, his blue eyes fiery. “How do you know that?”
Aha. Progress. “When I asked Thea whether Madison stops working when he’s around, she said she actually works harder.
Thea is so sweet. She thinks it’s because Madison is so stressed.
But we both know she’d take a quick break and be more engaging if she were interested.
Besides, I asked Pierre about Chef Rico. ”
“Unbelievable.” But his friend’s twisted mouth curved. “Reconnaissance by parrot. Our midnight run to Phoebe’s gallery really unlocked your inner James Bond.”
“That dude is cool—even if I don’t like all of the versions of the franchise. But yeah, not only did it seem practical, but I figured you’d want the inside scoop. Who knows Madison’s heart better than Pierre?”
Kyle’s mouth went flat again, and Dean knew he’d blundered. Kyle would want that to be him.
“Fine,” he answered tightly. “Tell me what our little mascot said.”
Dean eased himself onto the arm of one of the leather chairs.
“He said she finds his visits more than a little annoying. He told me in Madison’s voice and I quote, ‘He’s so not my boyfriend.
’ You’ll be thrilled to know that while Chef Rico has tried to win over Pierre—dude brought him Marcona almonds—he hasn’t succeeded. ”
“They went salsa dancing,” Kyle grudgingly shared. “Her and Rico.”
Well, shit, no wonder Kyle was upset. “News to me. When?”
“Last Friday. Sawyer and I swung by the restaurant since Madison hadn’t come home yet. We found them speaking Spanish and drinking the celebratory mezcal Rico had brought.”
Now the Spanish lessons made sense. “What label?”
“Olvido Divino 30.”
Dean whistled. “Serious bottle for a serious lady. But his charm offensive isn’t working, Kyle.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Kyle shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “We agreed to be friends. That’s it. She’s got enough on her shoulders.”
“Don’t kill me, but I have to say it.” He almost put the chair between them before finishing but sucked it up. “I’m not sure your pact is working. You’re getting all crazy because another guy is sniffing around.”
Kyle stalked to the window. “I’ve never been this jealous in my life. I didn’t know I had it in me.”
Dean didn’t like the edge to his voice. Golden Boy always sounded confident and assured. This guy? He sounded tortured. “You’re starting to sound like Sawyer does about painting. Or pre-Phoebe Sawyer.”
“Shit. That bad?”
“Thea is thinking about what she can do to make you smile,” he told him. “I shelved the gift card to a masseuse idea. Figured a pep talk from a friend might help.”
“Thanks, Dean.” He looked over his shoulder before resuming his study out the window. “I thought for a sec Sawyer had talked to you. We…got a little intense talking about things after I found Madison with Rico.”
He winced. “Couldn’t have been easy, but maybe you needed to find out how jealous you could be. Because while I don’t have experience with the emotion personally, I imagine it means you care about something very deeply.”
“That isn’t news.” The words were practically spat out. “The problem is the attraction, and I don’t have a solution for that yet.”
“A little time-out is one,” Dean offered.
“No,” he replied immediately. “Madison is my best friend and my business partner. She’s done nothing wrong here. She doesn’t deserve that. Besides, she needs to know she can count on me. Because she does have a lot on her shoulders. My dancing act right now is not to add to it, and I fear I am.”
They were between a rock and a hard place, and he didn’t know what other help he could offer. “You give her more support than you know. Perhaps remember that the next time you want to bash Chef Rico over the head with his fancy mezcal bottle.”
“What else has he gotten her?”
Dean didn’t whistle this time. Nor did he point out the stupidity in asking such a question.
“He’s played it smart so far. Two tickets to see a Latino artist Madison loves—after the holidays—with the hope she’ll take him.
A very rare variety of epazote leaves, which Thea tells me Madison apparently adores for her black beans. ”
“I recall her making them when we first came to Paris, and they were out of this world.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “When we did that whole Homesick for X month after the initial excitement wore off.”
Dean couldn’t place the memory. “He also brought her ground Chimayo pepper, which he topped with salt on a hot chocolate he made for Madison—and Thea, by the way. She said it was delicious.”
His friend’s throat moved. “So language, drink, music, and dancing, and their mutual love for food. You’re right. He’s playing it smart. Madison wouldn’t go for flowers.”