Page 77 of Tinsel in Telluride

“Is there any of that left over for me?”

He looks up, and I’m struck by the little smirk on his lips and the way his blue eyes shine with a hint of mischief.

“This is for you. I wasn’t sure when you were going to wake up, but I wanted to make sure you had food when you did.”

“Oh.” My shock slips free. I can’t remember the last time I had a man cook for me. Like really cook for me. Not like Bash offering me breakfast he was already going to make anyway, but having the foresight to make sure I’m fed.

It’s a nice feeling.

I cross over the tiny living room to the kitchen and slide onto the barstool.

“What is it?”

Luca slides the plate in front of me and turns to grab a fork. “Chicken tequila fettuccine with roasted peppers.”

“And you made this?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I might have grown up as a pretentious douche, but I really like to eat. So once I was on my own, I forced myself to learn a few dishes. Just don’t ask me to cook breakfast. I’ll burn the eggs every time.”

“I think I can handle breakfast.”

“Are you offering?”

“Maybe if you’re lucky.” I wink.

Luca makes a plate for himself and slides onto the stool next to mine. “And what does a guy have to do to get lucky?”

I pick up my fork and twirl the noodles around it. “First, you can tell me where my son is.”

“He’s in the house. Enzo has the monitor and offered to give you the night off.”

“He might be in the running for favorite twin.”

Luca lifts a brow in surprise, his posture straightening. “Not the twin whose name you were screaming mere hours ago?”

I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth, as I shrug playfully. “I’ll admit he’s unforgettable.”

“I’ll take it…for now.”

His words silently suggest I’m going to pay for my comment, and excitement courses through me.

I finally take a bite and the moment it touches my tongue, I let out a long, low moan.

Tangy yet savory, it’s quite possibly the best pasta I’ve ever tasted.

He sucks in an audible breath. “Keep doing that and I’ll forget that you need to eat before I wreck that little body of yours.”

My eyes go wide, and I can’t help but clench my thighs.

Luca tracks the movement and groans. “For fuck’s sake. Eat, Leigh.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and I relish in the ease we’ve found with one another.

As we continue to eat, the conversation flows like the wine he pours us. He tells me about the Monarchs’ team line up for next season, and I tell him about my plans for Renegade Hearts. He laughs when I tell him about the smutty book club I have with Willow and Indie, claiming that’s where my dirty mouth must have come from, and I cackle when he tells me about the time Holt and Bash convinced him to run naked through the streets of Monaco during a rainstorm.

By the time we’re both done, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten the chance to just be me. Not Zach’s mom. Not Willow’s partner. Just Leigh. And Luca makes it effortless. His wit and sarcasm are on par with my own, and he doesn’t fault me for finding the logic in every situation. But most of all, he calls me on my bullshit the same way I do him.

I never imagined it could be this way between us.

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