I give it two seconds once she goes to a different rack. Then I pick the bodysuit right back up, pass it to the sales assistant with the rest of the pile, and hand over my card.
“Luca, I got this. It’s my stuff.”
I don’t even turn. “You’re not paying.”
“I have money.”
“Great,” I say easily. “Keep it.”
The assistant runs my Amex Black Card while Adelaide stares at me as if she’s lost her words. I take the bag once it’s packed and hand it straight to her, letting my fingers brush hers for half a second longer than necessary.
“Everything you need is covered while you’re with us,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm even though my head is still full of lace and Adelaide wearing it for me. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
Her eyes flash. “You’re very bossy when you think you’re right.”
I laugh as we head out of the shop when I spot a café tucked into the corner of the plaza, outdoor tables under a jacaranda tree, and a chalkboard out front advertising a slice of something with too much cream on it. Sounds like my kind of thing.
“Here,” I say, and steer us both toward it. “After all that shopping we deserve coffee and cake.”
She doesn’t argue, which tells me two things. One, she also wants to sit. Two, she’s not going to make me fight for it, and we head over there.
I dump the bags beside a table in the back corner under the jacaranda, where the light lights up the location, and I pull a chair out for her because I’m not above it. She gives me a small amused look as she sits. “Coffee?” I ask.
“Latte with vanilla,” she answers with a grin.
Damn she’s adorable. I stroll over to the counter and order. I return soon enough with a huge slice of pineapple cheesecake, topped with a mountain of cream for us to split. I’m seriously drooling.
I set it on the table to find Adelaide leaning back in her chair with her face tilted up toward the leaves, eyes closed, the sunacross her cheekbone, and I have to stop for a second because all I can think about is leaning in to steal a kiss.
I set the tray down, and he eyes slip open, staring at the cake instantly. “Oh that looks ridiculously divine.”
“Pineapple cheesecake,” I say.
“Oh, give it to me.” She giggles as she reaches for one of the wooden forks on the plate. It’s not long before my long black and her latte arrive.
I pick up my fork, unable to wait, and we’re both digging in. She cuts into the cake and lifts a piece to her mouth. When she tastes it, I’m watching her mouth open up, realizing I’m mimicking her, and instantly close it.
“Oh,” she says. “Luca.”
“Good?”
“I don’t want to share this with you.” Her smirk is purely sinful.
“Too late. It’s communal.”
“I’m going to eat three-quarters of it.”
“You eat what you want. I’m good at watching you.”
She takes another piece, and I wait for her to eat it, completely satisfied to give the whole slice to her with how much pleasure it brings me.
"Tell me about work," I say, finally reaching over to taste the cake before it vanishes.
“Back in L.A.?”
“Yeah. You said you were at an advertising agency. What’s it actually like?”
She sets the fork down and picks up her coffee, sipping it first. “Fun, mostly. I was a Senior Brand Strategist, which sounds fancy and mostly meant I briefed the art team and managed a roster of clients and translated what clients said they wanted into something the creatives could actually build. Different problem every day. One morning it’s a skincare brandthat needs to feel approachable, the next it’s a financial services company that wants to stop feeling like a hospital.” She takes a sip. “I liked it because it let me be creative within a frame. I’m not the kind of creative who can stare at a blank page. Give me a brief and a problem and I’ll make something out of it.”
