Page 45

“I love the colors. Everything at my house feels so sterile and cold,” I say. “Yours feels so lived in.”

“Are you calling me messy?” His tone is light, even teasing.

“Not at all.” I take in the sight of the counters: Small bowls of cheeses, veggies, and meats are scattered around a round, rolled-out piece of dough. “This looks like it was a lot of work,” I say.

“Nah, it’s fun, but we’ll be eating a lot of pizza,” he adds with a laugh.

“That’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“Want to try making your own?” Robby asks.

I bite my lip. “Okay.” I wash my hands and then stand in front of the counter where a clean slate of dough is rolled out, waiting to be decorated. “Did you make the sauce?”

“Yep, been simmering all day,” he answers, standing behind me.

I reach for the ladle and spoon sauce over the slab of dough. I use the back of the ladle to spread the red sauce around like I’ve seen in movies. “And the dough?” I ask. He sweeps my curls to the side and kisses the back of my neck, setting off tingles that shoot down through my torso straight between my legs.

“Of course,” he murmurs against my skin, his hands finding my hips.

“God, what can’t you do?”

“Cannoli. They’re a bitch to make.” I sprinkle cheese over the sauce. “Keep going,” he instructs. I sprinkle more on and turn to the crumbled Italian sausage. His strong fingers trail under my shirt and touch my bare stomach.

A breathy giggle leaves my lips. “You’re distracting me.”

He kisses my neck again as I add mini pepperoni slices. “Good. So, you like your meat?”

I create a neat pattern with the pepperoni slices. “I think you know the answer to that,” I say. “I’m going to gain so much weight dating you.”

“You’d still be beautiful,” he says softly from behind me. I know he’s teasing me, but I feel light as a feather in his arms. “I have a home gym in the garage, but I think we’ll be able to burn the calories off on our own.”

I smirk to myself. “Robby…”

Definitely didn’t need pajamas.

While the pizza I made bakes, Robby assembles another one, and I walk around the open floor plan instead of hovering in the kitchen. The fireplace mantel has a Lego succulent plant on it next to a couple of framed photos. One is with two people who have to be his parents, and I recognize the version of Robby I met at that party. He’s leaner now, but I like him a little bulkier like he is in this photo. His mom and dad are similar heights, but Robby’s a few inches taller than them. His mom has a warm smile on her face and beautiful dark curly hair, yet Robby resembles so much of his dad.

The chilly air gives me goosebumps, and I rub my upper arms. “These your parents?” I ask and hold up the framed photo.

Robby looks up and instantly smiles. “Yeah, how’d you know?” he jokes.

I carefully set the photo back in its original place and wipe the dust off the top of the frame with my thumb. “Do they come to LA often?” I ask.

“Uh, sometimes. They’re not fans of the big city. Dad came down for a week to help with the renovations, and I usually go up to Napa for holidays. A few months ago, they came down for a concert and stayed here for the weekend, and we did some sightseeing. Do your parents visit?”

I walk away from the mantel. “God, no, never. They’re pretty busy with my brothers and their million grandkids.”

He bends over in front of the oven. “How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

I sigh. “Probably too many for someone my age. I’m a terrible aunt. Haven’t met them all. I don’t know their birthdays or middle names, and I hardly know my sisters-in-law.” I walk back to the kitchen as Robby rolls out more dough.

Robby glances at me again. “I’m sure you’re a good aunt.”

I rest my elbows on the smooth breakfast bar. “I have six nephews and two nieces. My oldest brother is divorced, remarried, and expecting with his second wife. And one of my other brothers is going through a divorce.” I purse my lips and glance around the living space, looking for something else to focus on. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?”

“No, my mom was lucky to have me. She met my dad in college, and he’s two years older. They did the long-distance thing while she finished her degree, then she moved to Napa. I wasn’t born until she was thirty-seven. Like fifteen years after moving there and marrying my dad. He was almost forty. I have a cousin who’s the same age as me, and his dad is my dad’s youngest brother.”

“But you were greatly wanted.”