Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“It’s broo-sket-ta,” I deadpan with an Italian flare, lifting an eyebrow—one that has also been dyed brown.
“See?” He holds up both hands, grinning wider. “Sexy and smart. I knew this date was a good idea.”
My eyes lower to his waist, verifying he has our cup in hand—not that I would spin on my heel and leave, but—it makes a great excuse to stay. A little voice in the back of my brain knows this is all a ruse and secretly, deep down inside, this is the only place I want to be.
Luca is wearing dark jeans and a white polo shirt, his dark hair a purposely mess.
His five o’clock shadow is doing wonders for his face and why is his jaw doing that…that thing? Stop it, strong jawline. I am powerless against you.
Lord, have some mercy.
I hang back as he lets the hostess know we’re both here and within moments we’re following her to a quiet table toward the back of the dimly lit restaurant.
As the hostess disappears, Luca raises an eyebrow. “So. Are you going to pretend you didn’t spend your entire car ride over debating whether or not to ghost me?”
“Ghost you?” I narrow my eyes. “Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations?”
“I wish.”
Luca sets our Rainforest cup on the tabletop and it winks at us both, a happy, fun, funny souvenir from out last outing. It’s absurd. And kind of perfect. And I hate how it makes my chest do a weird, fluttering thing.
“Your turn with our love child.” He pats it on the top, where the giraffe’s neck creates the handle.
I roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth betray me. I am smiling. Against my will. Stupid charming face. Stupid smirky jawline.
I cradle the cup with mock sincerity. “Don’t worry, buddy. Mommy loves you more.”
Luca places a dramatic hand over his heart. “Wow. Already turning him against me. I’m texting my therapist.”
“You don’t have a therapist.”
He leans back and smiles at me knowingly. “You don’t know that.”
I blink at Luca. “Do you?”
His nod is slow. “Sure. Doesn’t everyone?”
“No,” I say automatically. “But it’s…”
It’s good.
Surprising.
It’s also an attractive trait and I hate that.
I glance at him again, squinting as if I can detect a lie. “You’re serious?”
Luca leans back, one arm slung casually over the back of his chair.
“Yeah. Been going since my second season. Started as damage control after I almost punched a guy on my own team in the locker room. Kept going because as it turns out, bottling things up and pretending you’re made of steel is not cool.”
That shuts me up. I stare at him slack-jawed despite myself and confess: “That might be the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Seriously?” He’s still settled in, leaning back against his chair. “What about you?”
“Yes. I’ve been in therapy since our parents died.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “Sometimes with Gio, sometimes without.”
Luca doesn’t flinch or fill the silence with a joke like most guys would. He just…nods. Like he gets it. Like he knows how heavy that sentence is and isn’t afraid to hold it.
“That makes sense. I would do the same.” His voice is low and intimate. “You two are close. Gio loves hard.”
“I mean—I’m the only family he has. We only have one aunt, and she lives in France, so…” My lips twitch. “Telling me my brother loves hard is the nicest description of him. Usually it’s more like ‘aggressively protective.’”
Luca laughs, but not in a way that breaks the moment. “He did try to check me into the boards during practice the first time I asked about you, so there is that.”
My eyes widen. This is news to me. “He what?”
“Don’t worry, I bounced.” He grins, watching as the server approaches, laying the white linen napkin on his lap. “It was a subtle jab. Like, if you weren’t watching us closely, you’d think he accidentally skated into me at full speed with murder in his eyes.”
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
“Stop it right now. You should have told me that.”
“Told you what? ‘Hey, I thought you were hot and asked your brother if you were single and instead of being cool about it, he tried to injure me at the rink?” Luca snorts. “That makes him sound psychotic.”
“Indeed it does.”
We order drinks—and a starter to share— and Luca observes me from across the table with a soft expression. “It’s not difficult to overlook through when you’re interested in someone.”
Oh.
Okay.
Wasn’t ready for that.
Definitely should’ve braced myself.
“So Nova. Tell me—what’s the real reason we’re here?” he asks.
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean—I thought it was obvious.” My eyes pointedly rest on our yellow and brown spotted cup.
Luca watches me several seconds before his head tilts back and he laughs. “You’re so fucking cute, do you know what? Like you came here for this.” He nods to the cup. “And not to discuss the terms.”