Page 29 of If You Like It, I Love It

“How’s he doing this morning?” he asks.

It’s sweet of him to ask about Oliver, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel my defenses weaken. Finding him standing in his underwear in my kitchen like he’s woken up here so often it’s practically his second home is a surprise, but not at all jarring.

This is the kind of thing that would normally have me pulling away physically and shutting down emotionally, but all I want to do is hug him and share my relief.

“He seems to be back to his cantankerous, aristocratic self.”

I step closer, and Enzo’s smile becomes wolfish. “I’m glad he’s better, but waking up in your bed alone was no fun. Take all your clothes off, and you can have coffee.”

“Are you bargaining with my coffee in my house?”

“I’ve gotta work with what I’ve got, beautiful.”

“I prefer to drink my coffee with my clothes on.”

“When was the last time you drank it naked?” He brings in a chair from the dining room and sets it next to the counter, picking up his questioning as if he’d never left the room. “With one leg elevated? While getting your pussy licked first thing in the morning? Coffee warming your mouth while someone else’s warm mouth—”

“You probably want me to grab a shower before you—”

His fingers curl into the front waistband of my jeans, and he yanks me forward. “I don’t.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this. It feels silly, but decadent and sexy as hell at the same time. With my bare backside against the counter, I let him lift my leg and plant my foot on the seat of the chair next to my body. He pushes against my raised knee to pivot my leg, splaying me open as I take my first sip of the strong coffee, and then he drops to his knees on the hard tile while he nestles his face between my legs.

His inhale is dramatic, and it only makes me feel a little self-conscious. When he drags his tongue through my seam and moans, my resistance dissolves like sugar in hot coffee. Why shouldn’t I let him do this?

The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The tension in my neck and shoulders is melting. What a perfect fucking morning this is turning out to be.

14

Enzo

I’d stay here with her all day if I could, but she’s got work soon, and I should’ve been on a jobsite already. No regrets, but I’ve got to make myself get out of here. I wait until I hear her turn on the shower to walk out the door.

Even though I told Joni there’s no chance of getting her permit expedited, I swing by city hall to try my luck. I’m freshly showered and wearing my lucky shirt. It’s just a plain blue button-down, but I call it lucky because I bought it to wear to a construction meeting where I ended up getting the biggest job I’ve ever done.

Things have gone well for me so far this morning, so I figured it’s worth a shot to put on the shirt and ask. You don’t know if you don’t ask, and sometimes, you don’t get if you don’t ask.

Rhett Wilding is walking out of the building as I’m walking in. “You’re late,” he says. “The meeting is already over.”

I laugh, knowing he’s talking about the Keep Grinberry Falls Local committee. He’s asked me before to join the effort, but I declined since I’m not exactly a local. Rhett says I’m local enough, but living in a neighboring town would make me feel like a fraud. I know he only asked and offered to make the exception because they need more people.

He’s hardheaded and opinionated, yet still somehow a damn likeable guy, which is the only reason I don’t hold a grudge against him for trying so hard to shut down Glynnis’s renovation project when she wanted to open her lip spa here. His fiancée is far from being a local, though she does live here part-time now since opening her business on Main Street.

I can’t imagine trying to undermine anything Joni wanted to do, but I also can’t imagine anyone thinking he could deter Glynnis Ramsey from doing exactly what she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted. I rarely say two people are made for each other, but those two are without a doubt.

“I’m here to test the limits of my charm on the permit office,” I say.

“Good luck with that.” He glances at my hands. “You didn’t even bring donuts? Amateur.”

“Now you tell me.”

We part ways, and I walk down the hall toward my likely denial. If I do get denied, at least I’ll know I tried. I’ll accept defeat. I might burn this shirt, but other than that, I’ll take it in stride. Get on with my day. Hold all my complaints and cursing as inside thoughts . . . at least until I get back in my truck.

I recognize the woman at the window when I walk up. No one is ever going to describe her as friendly, and I was really hoping for the other woman who’s been here more often lately. She’s friendly. This one speaks in a tone so flat she could pass for a robot—if not for her frequent eye rolls that she makes no effort to hide.

“Hi, Carla. How’s your day going so far?”

She glares at me through the glass. “It’s Carlene. And you can save the sweet talk. What do you need?”