Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(41)

Lorenzo dips his head in silent acknowledgment, and I’m overwhelmed by the urge to pull him into a hug, although I hesitate after everything he has done and said to me.

Comforting someone else comes naturally to me, but comforting him…it feels like an instinct I hate to ignore.

Lorenzo and my mom carry on like the conversation never happened, but I obsess over it for the next five minutes, wondering what Lorenzo does with that second bouquet.

When Lorenzo finishes everything my mom asked of him, he starts to wipe the counter, but my mom pulls the rag from his hands and tells him to take a seat and relax.

“Sì, signora,” he says.

When my mom finishes rinsing the sink, she excuses herself to go use the restroom, but not before she reminds him not to help.

I bump him with my shoulder. “Who knew you could be such a gentleman?”

“I know it must come as quite a shock given our past, but I do have manners.”

“Yet I haven’t experienced them firsthand.”

He tucks his hand underneath my chin and lifts it. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Imagine if you heard me telling another man yes, sir over and over again?” My face flushes at the wide smile on his face.

“In this particular scenario, is this man old enough to be a grandparent?”

“No!” I pull away with a laugh, and Lorenzo’s hold on my chin slips. He stares at his hand, which is still hanging in the air, as if he too was wondering how it ended up anywhere near my face.

I shouldn’t miss him touching me.

Shouldn’t so much as think twice about why he even bothered to do so since we don’t have an audience present.

And I most definitely should not, under absolutely any circumstance, think about when he will do it again.





___________________

I Me asustaste: You scared me.

I Estás listo para recoger fresas: Are you ready to pick strawberries?

II Lo que Dahlia dijo es verdad. Tú hablas espa?ol: What Dahlia said is true. You speak Spanish.

III Sí. Aprendí eso y el italiano cuando era peque?o: Yes. I learned that and Italian when I was little.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Lorenzo


Phase One of Operation Fake Fiancée, a subtle title Willow came up with, is officially a go. I still haven’t pushed Lily on the subject of why she dislikes the Ludlows enough to help me win the election, but I plan on figuring it out tonight during our first official date.

Since I was too busy working with one of my clients—a man who needs an investor for his water-containment system that helps farmers save water—to plan a date tonight, Willow took it upon herself to fit Lily and me into a fully-booked cooking class in town.

It’s the perfect kind of setting for a date. A staged dinner would’ve been too awkward, so a cooking class gives us something to do while remaining in the public eye.

Tonight’s meal is one I could easily make in my sleep thanks to growing up with an Italian father who hated store-bought ravioli, but Lily looks excited about it.

Maria, an older Italian woman I’ve spent time getting to know, and her American husband pull Lily and me aside to say hello.

“Lorenzo!” The chef throws her arms around me. “What a nice surprise. I had no idea you’d be attending tonight’s class.”

I freeze up, only to be further physically tested when her husband claps a hand around my shoulder.

“Good to see you.”

I’m about to shake him off, but Lily’s hand wrapping around my bicep puts a temporary stop to that idea.

Careful now, the same black fog slithers through my mind, sucking some of my life force away.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” Lily says while looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you! Lorenzo helped us with the rebranding project.” She beams. “Without him, it wouldn’t have been possible to turn the restaurant into a cooking school.”

Maria’s husband, who looks extremely uncomfortable at the reminder of my help, is proof why. Most people, especially men, hate asking for money, so I’m typically brought on as a silent investor when people are out of options and need capital.

I provide funds in exchange for a small percentage of annual profits, and based on the way Maria’s cooking class is thriving, I made the right decision investing in the remodel. Although he’d never say it, I’m sure her proud husband agrees given how packed the room is.

He and Maria politely excuse themselves from the conversation so they can welcome the other guests. The attendees’ ages range, and our group is full of newlywed couples and retirees who are looking for something entertaining to do on a weekday.

“Who else have you helped in town?” Lily whispers to me while Maria hands out plastic aprons to the group.

I press my mouth against her ear. “Wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told you, would it?”

She is a little slow when pulling away. “I’m surprised you’re not flaunting it for everyone to see.”

“Unlike the Lopez cousins, some of us don’t need to have a street or soccer field dedicated in our honor.”

She sticks out her tongue as Maria stops by our station to hand us our aprons. “For my favorite student.”