Page 69 of Tinsel in Telluride

“Absolutely not,” Holt reassures me as he returns to rolling out a mound of gingerbread dough. “I helped raise my sister. It’s like riding a bike. We’ve got this.”

“Plus”—Bash nods in Leigh’s direction—“you need a night off as much as she does. You’ve been wound tighter than a damn tourniquet.”

I groan and roll my eyes.

“On that note,” Leigh offers me her hand, “I think it’s time we go.”

I stare at it, wondering if it’s a trap. Outside of when I told her about Jack, she hasn’t initiated any kind of contact with me.

Not to mention, I’m in awe of how okay she is with leaving him for the evening.

How did she manage to be away from him for an entire week during spring training? Or when she has to travel for Renegade Hearts? I’ve only known Zach a few days and I can’t imagine missing a single moment of his life. What if something happens and he needs us?

My eyes dart between her hand and Zach. “Okay, but you have our phone numbers if you need us.”

“Yes, helicopter-dad.” Enzo helps Zach back onto his chair where he’s already picking out the next cookie cutter he wants to use. “Now go. Leigh looks too beautiful to let this night off go to waste.”

I glare daggers at my twin for the second time, silently reprimanding him for stealing my line.

He shrugs as if to say,you should have said it first then.

I hesitate, chewing the inside of my cheek before looking nervously in Leigh’s direction. Her blue eyes unravel mine and it’s enough to spur me into placing my hand in hers.

We need this to figure out whatever the hell this thing between us is before I combust.

Turning, I raise one brow and gesture toward the door. “Shall we?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LEIGH

We follow the petite redheaded hostess to a table overlooking the main downtown strip of Telluride. With the white tablecloths, candles and wine on the table, and twinkling lights outside—it’s damn romantic.

I hate it.

Not because I don’t love a top-notch romantic moment, but this isn’t what I had in mind. It feels forced.

If Luca is trying to prove to me he’s not the same guy I remember, he has a funny way of showing it by taking me to the kind of restaurant his parents would eat at.

Then again, how’s he supposed to know fancy dinners and wine aren’t the way to my heart?

Isn’t that what tonight’s supposed to be about? Getting to know one another. Figuring out what makes the other one tick.

Luca swings around the table and pulls out my chair, his eyes locked on me, much to the dismay of the hostess who has not stopped trying to impress him since we walked in.

But I mean, who could blame her?

Luca is gorgeous. Dressed in cashmere and designer jeans, he screams cocky pretty boy with money. But that’s not what stands out to me. It’s the stubble he didn’t shave, because he knows I like it. It’s the way he bites the inside of his cheek to hide his nerves, because he doesn’t want to mess this up for any of us—Zach, me, or him. It’s the way he looks at my son, like he is the center of his world. The way he looks at me—with the sort of intensity you expect from someone who is your ride or die.

But isn’t that essentially what co-parenting is? Or at least it should be. For the rest of Zach’s life, we’re in this together.

I search his stubbled face, watching as his brow furrows.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

I nod, saving my spiraling thoughts for an in-depth evaluation later in the comfort of my own bed.

“Look at you being a gentleman,” I quip in an attempt to lighten the mood.“Is this how you treat all the girls in LA?”

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