Julien had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, but when Robbie stopped in front of him, he leaned in to kiss him on either cheek. “Bonsoir, princesse.”
Unable to resist Julien’s tempting mouth, Robbie pressed a kiss to his lips. “Bonsoir.”
“Hmm, I’ve missed that.”
“My kisses? Of course you did. I mean, who wouldn’t? They’re pretty spectacular.”
Julien grinned. “Oui, they are. But I was referring to your smile and your French.” He pulled open the front door for Robbie. “It’s nice to see both back again. I assume your afternoon with Elliot and Felicity was a good one?”
Robbie nodded as he stepped inside and unwound his scarf. “It was. We did mani/pedis, he colored Felicity’s hair, and we ate way too much chocolate. It was a great way to spend my day off.”
“I’m glad,” Julien said, and then reached up to brush his fingers across Robbie’s hair. “I see he cut your hair, too.”
“Oh, yeah. El always does my hair, and it needed a trim.”
“I like it,” Julien said. “I can see your eyes better now.”
Robbie batted his lashes, and when Julien laughed, Robbie scanned the dimly lit interior of the bar and wondered how Priest had found it. It clearly wasn’t one of the more popular bars downtown, and it was kind of…old, judging by the decor. But maybe that was the appeal? They were somewhere no one would ever think to look for them.
Along one side of the establishment ran a long, beat-up bar where a busy bartender was making drinks for the surprising amount of people seated there for a Tuesday night. Around the rest of the perimeter were booths full of customers jammed into the cracked and scuffed faux-leather seats that had seen better days, and as Julien led them farther inside, Robbie spotted a bunch of tables all facing a—
Wait, is that a stage? What the hell?
Were they at some kind of comedy club or something? Maybe Priest thought this would be a good way to make them all laugh again. But that didn’t really seem like Priest.
Speaking of… “Where’s Priest? Did he get held up?”
Julien ushered Robbie through the tables and toward the front, where there was an empty booth. “Non, not held up, per se.”
Robbie frowned as he slid into the seat, putting his coat and scarf down beside him, and then held a hand out to Julien for his. Robbie then patted the seat beside him, but Julien shook his head. “You’re not going to sit down?”
Julien looked over his shoulder toward the bar. “Wouldn’t you like a drink?”
“Oh, yeah, I would. Thank you. How about a cosmo?”
Julien kissed the corner of Robbie’s mouth. “You got it, princesse. Don’t go anywhere.”
Robbie blinked and felt a lump get caught in his throat at the expression he saw in his Frenchman’s eyes. It was one he’d seen before. One full of pleasure. But tonight, there was also something…more, and suddenly Robbie felt shy. “Umm…I won’t. But Julien, what is this place? A comedy club?”
Julien chuckled as he straightened and shook his head. “Non. Although…”
Robbie waited for Julien to say more, but instead he gave a sexy wink and then headed off toward the bar.
What the…? Okay, Robbie thought, as he continued to look at the people milling about. They were all laughing and smiling with one another as they talked and drank amongst themselves, and it seemed the place—whatever it was—was quite the hotspot. Maybe he’d have to come back here with Elliot one night if things continued going well.
Robbie turned in his seat to see if he could spot Julien or Priest heading back to him, but when neither were visible from his vantage point, he turned back around and faced the stage, and that was when it happened.
The familiar drumbeat intro to “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now”—one of Robbie’s all-time favorite songs—began to blare out of the speakers, and the crowd began to whoop and whistle as Robbie’s eyes widened and his heart began to thump at a staccato rhythm.
No, Robbie thought, and physically spun in his seat to search out Julien. When there was again no sign of him, and the lights started flashing bright pinks and purples, Robbie shook his head. No way. This can’t be— This has to be a coincidence.
But when a large spotlight beamed across the bar to the stage, Priest was standing there dressed in black from head to toe, holding a microphone, and Robbie’s eyes almost fell out of his head.
Oh.
My.
God.
Robbie’s hand flew up to cover his mouth, which was now hanging open, and all he could think was that he must be hallucinating, because there was no way that Priest was about to—
But then he did.
Priest brought the mic up to his mouth and began to sing the iconic eighties song—badly. A shocked gasp left Robbie, and he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry, because this? This was insane and absolutely wonderful all at once.