Page 71 of A Dish Best Served Hot

He nodded. “I have Netflix, Discovery Plus, HBO Max...”

“Stop. You had me at ‘bedroom.’”

He loved going back and forth with her, but he needed to make sure they were on the same page. “Are we doing this, Lola?”

“Taking Rosie home? Yes.”

“Are we taking her home, so that I can lock us in my bedroom and have my way with you?”

She shook her head side to side.

His heart stopped.

“You’re going to lock us in your room so thatIcan have my way withyou.”

“Even better.”

He stood and scooped Rosie up from where she had indeed fallen asleep against Lola’s leg, her head resting against Lola’s thigh. He didn’t blame her, he intended to do the same thing.

Once Rosie was settled on his shoulder, he reached down and grabbed Lola’s hand.

She intertwined their fingers and they began the trek back to his truck.

Saint couldn’t help thinking how they probably looked like any other family—mom, dad, and daughter—on their way home from a day of fun. He liked the thought too much. He needed to keep his expectations at a rational level. He knew that Lola cared about Rosie a lot and he knew that she had feelings for him, but that didn’t mean that she was thinking about forever. Not like he was.

They got to the truck and buckled Rosie in. The drive back to his place was made in silence. He didn’t know if it was because they didn’t want to risk waking Rosie up or if they both just had too much on their minds. All that he cared about was Lola’s hand in his and the hot looks she kept shooting his way.

They pulled into the garage and Saint almost forgot to turn off the truck before flinging his door open. He was on Lola’s side in a heartbeat. Before she could open the back door, he pushed her up against it and took her mouth in a hot kiss.

Lola pulled away after a long moment. “You put her to bed. I’ll wait for you in your room.”

“Okay, but you aren’t allowed to take anything off,” he commanded. “I want to undress you.”

She huffed out a little breath full of desire. “You’d better hurry.”

Saint would hurry to get Rosie settled, but then he was going to take his sweet time with Lola.

17

Lola stood in the middle of Saint’s room trying to calm her racing heart. She felt jittery, but not from nerves. She was supercharged with lust and all he’d done was say a few provoking words and kiss her.

She took another look around the room. What had appeared bright and cozy in the daylight was nothing but varying shades of shadow in the dim lighting of the one lamp she’d turned on. It should’ve been cold with the monochromatic color scheme, but somehow it wasn’t. Maybe it was all the plush texture. The rug was lush, the pillows plump, and the comforter bulky. Or maybe it was that the entire room smelled like Saint—fresh laundry and something with a bite. It made her feel like she did when she was young and used to hide under her covers, warm and safe.

Lola untied the flannel around her waist, sank onto the edge of the bed, and removed her shoes. She flexed and wiggled her toes while rolling her ankles in an attempt to soothe her sore feet. It had been a long day with a lot of walking, but Lola wouldn’t have changed a thing about it. It would always be a favorite memory for her because it would remind Lola of the day Rosie Vega finally felt safe with her.

“I thought I said not to take anything off.”

Lola looked up.

Saint leaned one shoulder against the door watching her.

“I never agreed to that,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she smoldered back at him.

He straightened and stepped into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “I thought it was an understood order.” He began walking toward her. As he did, he took off his hat and tossed it onto the bench at the end of the bed.

Lola stood and met him halfway. “Oh, Saint, you should already know that I don’t take orders.” She pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Saint sucked in a breath. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

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