Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“You were in the zone.”
Luca grins at the compliment and ducks his head like he’s trying to hide it, but I see it. That flash of pride. The spark of joy in his eyes.
“It felt good,” he admits, fingers brushing his water glass. “Sometimes the whole game just clicks. Like you’re seeing things happen before they do.”
I get that. Gio talks about that feeling often.
He glances at me, curiosity tugging at the corners of his smile. “What’s your version of that?”
“Hm?”
“When do you feel like that—totally in sync, like you’re killing it and nothing can touch you?”
Oh jeez—I have no idea. “When I’ve designed something for a client and hit it on the first mock-up. Everything about it is perfect and there are no changes.”
“I love that.”
“When else do you get that feeling?” I root through the bar mix to find something tasty. “Besides when you’re on the ice.”
Luca thinks for a second, then shrugs. “No idea.”
“Oh come on—there have to be other times you feel accomplished.”
“Maybe when I’m fixing stuff? Does that count?”
“Fixing stuff?” I echo, tilting my head.
“Yeah. Like—gear. Or furniture. I like working with my hands.” He shrugs. “When something’s broken and I can take it apart and figure out what’s wrong.”
My brows lift. “That’s kind of hot.”
His smirk is slow and dangerous. “You think manual labor is hot?”
“I think competency is hot,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
He leans in a little. “So if I fix your broken doorknob, what does that get me?”
“That depends,” I murmur, twisting my drink on its napkin. “Do you own a power drill?”
His eyes flash with amusement. “Babe, I own two.”
Babe.
Just a word. But not just a word.
An endearment.
I shake the feathers out of my brain, trying to fight the blush crawling up my neck. “Stop it.”
He is so freaking cute!
I can’t take it. “I want to crawl into your lap right now and eat you up.”
Luca leans a little closer, like we’re the only two people in this loud bar, and I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. “What’s stopping you?”
I glance around—too fast, too guilty—but no one’s watching us.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” I hiss.
“You like trouble.”
He’s not wrong.
His mouth brushes the shell of my ear. “What if we skip dinner? What if I take you back to my place and feed you something else?”
Something else…
Like. His dick?
My mouth waters at the same time my stomach grumbles.
We’re so close. If I lean an inch more, I’ll be kissing him.
We’re laughing when the bartender interrupts with a pair of menus to peruse while we wait, a flash of silver across her smile. “Your table should be ready soon, folks. Sorry for the wait—things are a little crazy tonight.”
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice high and happy. “No worries.”
As she walks away, Luca’s hand returns to my knee under the bar. His thumb starts drawing that same slow circle again and I swear to God, if someone doesn’t bring me carbs soon I will combust.
The room is beginning to buzz around us. People are filing in faster now—bigger groups, louder laughter, the sound of glasses clinking and chairs scraping.
Luca keeps his body angled toward mine, blocking out the noise. I glance down at his hand, aching to hold it.
I think about it for a second too long.
And then—
“Nova?”
Everything inside me freezes.
Luca’s head swivels toward the voice. Mine does too, heart plunging into my ass.
Gio stands a few feet from our barstools, eyes darting from me to Luca, to where our knees are very much touching, to Luca’s hand on my leg.
“Babineaux—what are you guys doing here?”
Luca’s hand vanishes from my thigh like it’s been burned, and I swing around on the barstool so fast I nearly knock over my margarita with my elbow.
“Gio!” I say too brightly. So loud. My voice is so high-pitched it could shatter glass. “Hey! Wow—what are you doing here?”
My brother blinks as if I’ve lost my damn mind. “Uh—picking up food?”
Right. Because this is a restaurant.
That serves food.
Like restaurants do.
I grab my drink and nearly slosh it onto the counter. “Same. I mean—not picking up—but I was going to! I was going to get takeout. To bring to you and Austin. As a surprise. You know, a postpartum treat. Because you guys deserve it.”
I am very aware that I am babbling.
Beside me, Luca shifts on his barstool, body rigid.
“Well, imagine the coincidence!” I press on, determined to bury myself deeper. “Running into Luca here! Totally random, right?”
I glance sideways at Luca, daring him to go along with it.
He meets my gaze, amused and vaguely impressed. “Yeah,” he drawls slowly. “Totally random.”
Gio is looking at both of us like we’ve grown extra heads. “You two... just happened to be at the same place. At the same time.”
“Yup!” I pop the “p.” “Crazy, right?”
Luca nods. “Wild.”