Page 45 of Tinsel in Telluride

With Luca.

Who I hate.

Who almost kissed me.

I reach up and trace my lower lip with my finger.

What the hell was I thinking agreeing to this?

And why do I wish I had stayed just a second longer?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LUCA

Lunch with my best friends shouldn’t be reminiscent of a high society party, but add in Leigh and Zach, and I feel like I’m back in Shady Grove, navigating one of my mother’s mandatory holiday get-togethers. Except instead of gaudy Christmas outfits and meddling mothers trying to pair me off with their daughters, I’m up against Leigh’s side-eye glances, checking to see if I’m taking care of Zach to her standards.

I couldn’t believe it when she agreed to let me take the lead on lunch with Zach. She even made it a point to sit down at the opposite end of the table between Enzo and Holt.

Of course, that could also be her subtle attempt to put space between us.

A Cheshire cat grin splits my lips as I methodically cut Zach’s roasted chicken and asparagus into tiny pieces while picturing his mother pressed up against me, my lips hovering over hers.

She felt something, too—if only for a moment—before she turned and ran. But it was there. And it gives me hope thatmaybe the idea of us being a family isn’t as far-fetched as I thought.

Then again, we have a long way and a severely needed apology on my part before we get there.

I glance down at the towhead toddler beside me, offering him his plate.

He immediately reaches for the chicken with his hands, and for a moment, I consider letting him do so, mostly because I love that it’s something that would irritate my mother. Then again, it could be a teaching moment. I can’t help myself. This is what I wanted. To be his dad.

I pull his plate back toward me and pick up the fork from the table, offering it to him.

Zach looks at the fork, back up at me, and shakes his head. “No.”

“Come on, little man,” I coax, putting the fork closer to his hand. “We gotta use the fork.”

“Shit,” Leigh mutters, halting Bash’s explanation to her on the benefits of a quarterback sneak. “I forgot to tell you he’s not a big fan of utensils.”

“Do you mind if I try getting him to use them?”

She hesitates, then lifts her hand and gestures for me to proceed, her lips pressed in a tight grin that says,it’s your funeral.

Permission granted, I lean down so I’m on Zach’s level and whisper, “You know, my brother didn’t like forks when we were little either.”

His little brows raise skeptically, but he keeps listening.

“Really.” I point to where Enzo is sitting on the other side of Zach. “I used to have to feed Enzo, because our mom wouldn’t let him touch his food with his hands.”

Zach looks down at the fork and up at Enzo.

“It’s true. Our mom would make Luca feed me, then I would have to feed him since he fed me all the food from his plate.”

I look up at my brother and silently thank him for playing along and making my ass backwards logic make sense. Not that my almost two-year-old is understanding much of it.

“Would you like to try feeding me?” I ask Zach.

Now that he understood.

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