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“You better,” she replied with a smile that reached her eyes.

As she watched him walk to his car, Paige leaned in the doorway, watching him go. Giovanni glanced back once, caught her eyes, and the smile they shared felt like crossing a threshold. They’d gone from attraction to something with roots, something that might last.

Paige grinned; she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for tomorrow, another day they’d share in their own way. This was not what she expected when she showed up at the car show, and she knew damn well this wasn’t what her mom had in mind when she offered those tickets. But here she was, enjoying Giovanni’s hands, his attention, him spoiling her, him becoming part of her world, as she became a part of his.

The food truck gang loved him and thought what he was doing was sweet, but it was more than that. Anything he did he made an impact. His mind was constantly on others. On his community. She loved that.

There had been moments in Paige’s life when she felt like she didn’t have a tribe or community. She had her friends and family, yes, but that rallying of people who genuinely cared was different. He was reminding her that the devil was a liar - she had people, and people had her. What a man.

Chapter 14

Giovanni – Los Angeles

Giovanni had been in L.A. three days and couldn’t tell you what he’d eaten or where he slept last night. He should’ve been focused on sponsors, deliverables, and the launch of his merch line, Idle Hands. Instead, his brain was stuck back home, wrapped in her voice and the way his name slid off her tongue like honey, slow, sweet, and sticky.

All he could do was draw the curve of her hips. Over and over.

Their first morning together and every other moment they’d shared played on an endless loop behind his eyelids. It was always something. The way sunlight had filtered through his blinds. How she’d slept with her lips slightly parted, like peace had finally found her after years of searching. He remembered the electric tingle he felt when she woke him up with a lick of his lips.

He settled at the drafting table, music playing low and mournful while tools and pencils lay scattered in creative chaos around him. The pencil moved with a will of its own, translating memory to paper with devoted precision. Each stroke captured something essential: the sharp line of her jawline when she'd turned to look back at him, the slow arc of her back where his hand had rested while they danced, that subtle, dangerous curve between her waist and hip that seemed carved specifically for his grip.

“Damn.” He slammed his fist down, frustrated that he couldn’t get what he was creating perfect or was it that he couldn’t get to her? Possibly both. He’d rented an Airbnb, it was ducked off quiet and dark. But the home had a place where he could think, sketch, and be reminded of his first love. The initial discovery of what you wanted to build. The art of it. The bones already there, just upgraded, respected, and accentuated.

It wasn’t any car he was designing. It was her. Sleek. Unexpected. Powerful. Underestimated.

He pushed the sketch pad away and leaned back in the chair, palms dragging down his face. His phone buzzed, but it wasn’t her. It was Spirit again.

Spirit:You alive or you in a mood?

He didn’t answer. A minute later, she walked in anyway, arms crossed, expression loaded.

“You ghosting your own blood now?” she asked, plopping onto a nearby stool.

“I’m working,” he muttered.

“Boy, please. You’ve been redrawing the same damn car all morning. I peeked.” She cocked her head. “I haven’t seen you with a sketch pad in a long time.”

“Yeah, well, I’m inspired.”

“Is that your interpretation of Paige?”

He cut his eyes at her but said nothing. Spirit kicked her feet, grinning. She was so happy for her brother. Giovanni had lived a life of solitude long enough.

“It’s her, ain’t it? Lord, I can’t wait to meet the woman who has my brother gasping for air in her absence.”

Giovanni sighed, picking up a pencil to have something to fidget with. “It ain’t like that.”

“It’s exactly like that. Look at you, three days in LA with executives falling over themselves to sign you, and you hiding in here drawing curves that definitely don’t belong to any vehicleI’ve ever seen.” She came forward, snatching the sketch pad before he could stop her. “Mmm-hmm. Just as I thought.”

“Give that back,” he growled, reaching for it. But as they fight like little kids, he let out a laugh.

Spirit held it away, studying the drawing with expert eyes. “This is good, G. Really good. You haven’t drawn like this since before...” She let the sentence hang, both of them knowing she meant before their father passed.

Giovanni's chest tightened, old grief rising. “Don’t.”

“I’m not.” She handed the pad back, her face softening. “I’m just saying, I like seeing this side of you again. The artist. The one who feels something so deep he’s gotta get it out on paper.” She nudged his knee with her foot. “She must be special.”

“She is,” he admitted finally, the words feeling both too big and not enough. She was more than special, she was it.

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