Page 68 of A Dish Best Served Hot

Rosie hopped off the stool and went into her room right as Lola passed by Saint. He grabbed her arm and walked her to a door right off the kitchen. “The bathroom is right here. Ignore any mess. This is mostly Rosie’s bathroom.” His words were normal, but his tone was not. It was rough and gravelly, filled with need.

Lola fisted the front of his hoodie, pulled him into the bathroom with her, and jumped him, slamming their mouths together.

He pushed the door closed behind them and leaned into the kiss. His hands slammed onto the counter next to her hips. “Fuck,” he groaned in between kisses. “Lo que me haces.”

Lola was about to hop onto the counter and wrap her legs around his waist when he suddenly pulled away. “We can’t. Rosie is probably done putting on her shoes already.”

Lola panted. “You’re right. Go, before she comes looking.”

Seemingly unable to help himself, Saint leaned in for one more kiss and Lola held still to make sure she didn’t wrap herself around him like a vine. He backed up and cracked the door open. “Good. She’s still in her room.” He slid out the door and winked at her before he closed it.

Lola slumped against the mirror behind her. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and just breathed for a moment. Shit, that man was potent. After a few more calming breaths, Lola slid off the counter, did her business, and washed her hands. When she exited the bathroom, Saint and Rosie stood in the kitchen by the back door. Lola couldn’t help but notice Rosie’s purple Nikes.

“You ready to go?” Saint asked.

“Yep, all good.” Within moments they were in the car and on their way. “I can’t wait to see how everything at Navy Pier has changed,” she told them both.

“It’s different. There’s tons to do.”

Lola turned in her seat to look at Rosie. “You know, Rosie. This isn’t the first time your dad has taken me to Navy Pier.”

Rosie just stared back at her, patiently waiting for Lola to continue the story.

“We took the bus there once and I got your dad to eat a Chicago-style hot dog. You know, the ones with tomatoes and pickles and peppers on them.”

Rosie’s nose scrunched and she grimaced in disgust.

“Don’t make that Mr. Yuck face, they’re good.” She poked Saint in the bicep. “Tell her. Tell her how good they are.”

Saint shook his head and looked at his daughter through the rearview mirror. “It was nasty,” he told her. “I hated it.”

Rosie laughed.

“You traitor! If it was so gross then why did you eat the whole thing?”

“I only ate it because I wanted to impress you, Lola.”

She went warm at the words. “Well, I don’t care what you say. Chicago dogs are delicious and I can’t wait to eat one.” She tried to keep the affront in her tone, but she was too pleased by his admission of wanting to impress her.

“You have fun with that,” Saint said. “Rosie and I are going to eat bacon cheeseburgers. Right, Rosie?”

Rosie nodded.

“Your loss.”

“Wow, the Centennial Wheel looks way bigger up close,” Lola said. She eyed the two-hundred-foot-tall ride like it was a monster.

Saint put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to go,” he told her for the fifth time. “I know you’re scared of heights.”

“I’m not,” Lola said. “I used to be scared, but I knew I had to do something about it if I wanted to travel. So, I tried some exposure therapy.”

“In what way?”

“I hiked and sat at cliff edges. When I traveled on a plane, I kept the window shade up and forced myself to stare out of it. When I got more comfortable with that, I went zip-lining and then bungee jumping.”

He was not surprised by that at all. Lola was not the type of person to accept in herself anything that she considered a weakness. If she had a problem, she’d beat it into submission. “And it worked, you’re no longer scared of heights?”

“They still aren’t my favorite. They never will be.” She looked down at Rosie, who was looking at Lola like she was the coolest person she’d ever met. “But I try my best to never let my fears stop me from doing something I want to do.”

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