“Asiago and basil in these and sausage and basil in those. I had just enough of the Opalescent basil left to make them.”
“Opalescent basil?” Vin snatches one of each kind of stuffed mushroom and takes a careful bite of the one with asiago.
Instantly, it happens.
His eyes close. His jaw slows. That soft groan rumbles up from somewhere deep in his chest as he chews reverently, savoring each bite like it’s a religious experience.
My uterus contracts, and Siena pinches my hand until I stop staring at Vin and meet her glare.
I clear my throat and glare back at her as I answer Vin. “Opalescent basil is amazing, but it’s so hard to find. I save it for the most important dishes.”
For you.I don’t say:I save it for you.
“I told her she didn’t have to do this, but she insisted,” Siena says, giving me a shake of the head that clearly means ‘stop looking at him like that.’
“You know we love it. This baby is going to come out begging for yourosso bucco.” Matti laughs.
Vin punches Matti’s arm. “From the guy who would live off pancakes if he could.”
“Not just pancakes. Bacon, omelettes. I have a varied palette,” Matti jokes. “But this—I mean, what is this? It’s a pastry but it’s crispy on the outside, soft on the inside and then this filling, holy shit.” He shoves half asfogliatelleinto his mouth and groans.
I can’t help but blush. It makes me so happy when people enjoy my food. It’s one of the reasons I started cooking in the first place. Good food makes everyone happy, and in the world we live in, there’s a shortage of happiness. But I can create it with my hands. All I need is butter and flour and time.
When Vin grabs one of the flaky pastries and takes a bite, I accidentally hold my breath then sigh with relief when his eyes pop open wide. “Holy shit! You made this? I’ve never hadsfogliatellethis good, not even at Ferrara’s in Little Italy.”
My heart practically soars out of my body. “It’s not that hard,” I lie softly.
I never know how to take a compliment, and the truth is thatsfogliatelleare notoriously difficult to get right. I spent the entire day making these, rolling out dough and testing the filling, because I knew Vin would be here. And I knew he’d appreciate them in a way most people wouldn’t.
“Flaky dough on the outside, chewy on the inside.” He’s analyzing it like a food critic, turning it in his fingers. “I mean, you have to have a pasta roller to get the layers this thin and perfect.”
“That is correct,” I confirm, laughing as Vin closes his eyes and presses his hands into the counter to steady himself then holds up a finger to quiet me as he focuses on the pastry.
When he swallows, he sighs, his eyes still closed. “Best ricotta filling I’ve ever had. Perfect amount of cardamom, not too much cinnamon, and is that…a hint of lemon zest?”
“Just a touch,” I breathe, amazed that he caught it.
“Fuck.” He opens his eyes and looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Vin nods, approval and respect on his face, and watches me. I feel it like a physical touch as I pinch my lips together and duck my head, suddenly shy, busying myself with the remaining pastries that definitely don’t need this much attention.
“Getting compliments makes you shy, princess?”
Princess. Electricity shoots down my spine. When I glance up at him, his expression has shifted. No longer analytical, his eyes are sparkling with something that makes my stomach flip.
“Not shy. But I do like it when my food makes people happy.”Especially when it makes you happy.
“Is anyone makingyouhappy?” He leans his elbows on the counter and looks up at me through his eyelashes. I practically melt into a puddle right there on the floor.
Siena screams and pummels his arm. “Stop that! She’s off limits.”
Vin’s voice drops into a teasing throaty growl that does absolutely obscene things to my insides, his eyes locked on mine like we’re the only two people in the room. “Is that true, princess? Are you off limits?”
When he drags a finger along my forearm, my nervous system explodes like fireworks. I try hard to keep it under control. I really do. “I think you’re the one who’s off limits.”
I nod toward Valentina, still draped over the couch like a Renaissance painting, and they all follow my gaze. Siena breathes a sigh of relief, and Matti chuckles while Vin’s grin spreads across his face.
