She pulled away first. “I bought you something.”
I huffed a laugh. “When did you do that? I always had my eye on you.”
“I’m sneaky like that.” She reached into her canvas bag, pulled out a small package wrapped in white tissue paper, and handed it to me. “I saw it and decided you needed it.”
I flipped the package over, frowning. Saoirse trailed her fingertip over my knuckles.
“Why do you seem confused?”
My frown deepened. “I’m…”
“Just open it. It’s not jewels like you keep giving me. It’s only a little something.”
Tearing the tape carefully, I unfolded the paper, revealing a small pewter motorcycle attached to a key chain. Though it fit in the center of my palm, I immediately recognized it was a model of a Rossi bike from my grandfather’s day.
“It’s an M50 Road Knight.”
She leaned in, peering at my hand. “Is it? I saw it had a Rossi symbol.”
I closed the paper, replacing the tape, and tucked the package in my pocket. “Thank you.”
Her head canted. “Is it me you’re not good at accepting gifts from, or is it a general thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it began with the cheese board. You’ve never said a single word about that. Then your wedding ring. You barely looked at it. And now this. I know the key chain is small, but you gave it a glance, then put it away. It’s a pattern, but I wonder if it’s specific to me or not.”
“I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
“You are.”
I took the key chain out and unwrapped it, wadding the paper up, and attached it to the house key in my pocket.
“My grandfather rode this bike. He took me for a ride on it when I was a kid. My first ride. You didn’t know that, but it took me aback. I needed a minute to recover my equilibrium.” I clutched the key chain in my fist. “Thank you for giving me this. I’ll think about him when I unlock my door.”
“That’s a good thing, I assume?”
“Great thing,” I answered. “As for the cheese board, I ate the hell out of the cheese. The board is on my counter. You noticed I’m sure.”
“I did.”
“When you gave it to me, I wasn’t sure about you. No one gives me gifts out of the blue, and you handed me something you had put a lot of thought into at what was supposed to be our first meeting. You threw me off balance, as you have a tendency to do.”
She crinkled her nose. “I don’t. Do I?”
I smoothed my fingertip down her nose. “You do, pretty girl.” I glanced at my ring. That wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. “I’ll try to do better next time.”
She arched a brow. “Assuming there’ll be a next time.”
Taking her chin between my fingers, I tipped her head slightly. “Knowing you, there will be.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Fine. Gift giving is my love language. I can’t help it, so prepare, Luca. I will give you thoughtful presents.”
A lightness I hadn’t had for months bloomed in my chest. All because of Saoirse. Even though I continued to mess up. Even though I was absent more often than not and incredibly deficient at accepting gifts. She continued being this…fucking brilliant surprise.
“I’ll be ready. Promise, pretty girl.”
Saoirse had me drive her to a café where I learned she’d been working for the past two weekends, helping out a friend.
I’d pictured the friend as someone like Elise, but I was far off the mark. When I pulled up to the curb, Kenji—a tattooed, rock star–looking Japanese guy—was leaning against the brick wall beside the café, one booted foot kicked up.
“There are lots of other people working with you, right?” I eyed the handsome motherfucker, wondering if he was Saoirse’s type.
“Yes. Well, it’s Kenji, me, and his brother, Riku. He hired some other people to work with him next weekend, but—” She squeaked when I pulled away from the curb. “What are you doing?”
“Finding a parking spot. I’m coming in with you. I’d like to meet the man you’ve been spending so much time with.”
I felt her boring holes in the side of my head.
“Did you even notice I wasn’t home?”
My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Of course I knew you were out. I didn’t know what you were doing. Now I do. I’m going to meet Kenji. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I don’t mind as long as you’re nice.”
I pulled into a parking lot two blocks from the café. “Oh, I’ll be nice.”
And I would, as long as Kenji didn’t look at my wife like the honey guy did. I found it hard to believe he was happy in the friendzone with Saoirse, but we’d see.
Besides, I was curious about what she’d been up to over the past couple weeks. Now seemed like a great time to find out.
Chapter Twentyeight
Saoirse
I tapped Luca on the shoulder. He pulled his attention from his computer to snake his arm around my back, his hand dangerously close to my ass.
“This is your thirty-minute check-in,” I chirped. “Are you making progress?”
“Strangely, yes.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I got through five employee surveys.”
“Good job.” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to check in with you again.”
Kenji had brought his pop-up business from Japan, testing it out in a temporary space to see if it worked with Americans. Customers used a workspace in the café and requested to be checked on by the staff at predetermined intervals to ensure they were staying on task.
The past three weekends had been packed, convincing Kenji this business model might really work here. Ping-ponging between customers, serving coffee and check-ins, I agreed with him.
Luca had spent all of Saturday, and now Sunday, working in the café. These two days were the most time we’d spent together since Wyoming. At first, I’d been a little annoyed he stuck around. To me, it’d felt like he didn’t trust me. But I was beginning to believe he was using his territorialism as an excuse to spend time with me—which I didn’t mind at all.
I liked my husband.
A half hour later, I circled back to Luca with a coffee, sliding it in front of him.
“How’s my good boy doing?” I whispered to him.
He growled at me. “I’m thinking of all the bad, bad things I’ll be doing with you as soon as I have the chance.”
“Which won’t be tonight if you don’t get through more employee surveys.”
He winced. “You’re a taskmaster.”
“I am.” I shoved his shoulder. “Now, get back to work or I’ll be forced to crack the whip.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“Oh god. Yes, yes, yes.”
Luca’s hand gripped my shoulder, the other held my ass cheek. “Don’t move, pretty girl. Don’t fucking move.”
My back opening burned and stretched from Luca’s thick cock breaching it and sliding into me. I clawed at the couch cushions, keeping still for him everywhere else, tamping down every instinct telling me to rock into him.