As if I didn’t spend forty minutes at the barbershop for Antonio.
Things start to go wrong from the moment we step inside and see his sister.
“Antonio! Il tuo sugar daddy è tornato!” she yells.
Sugar daddy?
When I see Antonio with his perfectly messy curls and those espresso eyes, every coherent thought evaporates.
He looks like sin and judgment rolled into one.
He makes me forget language.
He frowns when he sees me. It’s a devastatingly adorable, confused little frown, and I want to trace it with my lips.
“You’re resilient,” he says sharply.
He glances at Cole, recognition flickering. He offers him a polite nod.
I get another scowl.
“You must like our food.”
“Yes,” I reply breathlessly.
Calm down, Caspian. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.
A ghost of a smile plays on his lips, but it’s gone before I blink.
“So, which is it?” he asks, tilting his head. “Sugar daddy or just an accountant who likes to dress the part?”
“I’m not either,” I choke out, sounding very much like both.
“You sure about that—Hilfiger?”
My soul leaves my body.
Was that flirting?
Did he just flirt with me?
We stare for a full, devastating second before he slams the door on whatever that was.
He huffs.
“I don’t have all day. I’ll bring you what you had last time.”
He turns to Cole.
“You’ll have the same. You’ll like it.”
He gives me one more scowl and returns to the kitchen with the grace of a ballet dancer and the temper of a hornet.
Cole keeps teasing me throughout lunch.
He’s delighted. I’m panicking.
When it’s time to pay, I make sure the tip is generous but not exaggerated.
