“Hello?! Show me the trio!”
After grabbing his phone from his pocket, he clicks on a folder then shows me a picture of three chubby-cheeked redheads. My heart turns to mush, and I coo at the photos. “I love them.”
“That’s how I felt when I met them too.”
“More, more. Show me more.”
The man flips through his camera roll, and I squeal at nearly every adorable shot of the chunks of love, including one of the girls sitting upright in Daddy’s La-Z-Boy.
When we’re through, I’m a soft teddy bear. “This is the best.”
“Anyway, that’s why I was so flustered that day about the fountain— ”
“Don’t think twice about it. We are all good. I landed a job out of it.”
And landed on top of a man who tastes better than a truffle and melts my insides like chocolate, and now I’m falling for him in a delicious way. So, really, I suppose it’s fitting I fell into a fountain.
“No kidding?”
I square my shoulders. “I’m Lulu Diamond. I’m making chocolate for Heavenly for its Rising Star line.”
He offers a fist for knocking. “George Day. Rock on, chocolate-covered chocolatier.”
“Rock on, Triple Latte Daddy.”
I say goodbye and continue my trek across the park to my team.
As Leo comes into view, I smile from the inside out. Maybe the baby pictures primed me, but I’m grinning like a bit of a fool. When he smiles back, I upgrade myself to beaming. Full wattage–style.
Leo gestures to the cup of coffee in his hand. But first, coffee, he mouths then adds, for you.
My squishy heart softens more.
He strides over, a little grin tugging at his lips like we have a secret. The secret is we want to jump each other.
But we want so much more too.
And we can’t quite have it.
Instead, we have . . . coffee.
He hands me a cup. “With cream, as you like it.”
“Life is too short to drink coffee without cream.”
“Gotta have standards.”
“Also, thank you.” It’s a little thing, but it’s also a wonderful thing. And I like the little things in life. I take a sip, and the drink is mixed perfectly, and I tell him as much.
“One of my talents—remembering how you like your coffee.” He lowers his voice. “Listen, about last night.”
The night I practically flung myself at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried, Lulu.”
“Then what is it?”
Nerves thrum through me. His words move like stop-and-start traffic. “Last night . . . you . . . the things you said. I think my brain was a pinball game.”
The nerves tighten like a valve. “Did you beat the game?”
“No. I don’t know how it plays out.”
“I don’t either.”
“I know it’s foolish, but fuck, you’re in my head, Lulu. I have this for you.” He reaches into his back pocket and takes out a small postcard. “I looked this up this morning online. I thought you would like it. I picked up some cardstock and printed it out.”
My breath catches as I turn the card over, and something so pedestrian occurs to me—he bought cardstock to print this. Now, this is a big thing. This is a thoughtful thing. It requires planning and foresight. It’s like shopping for a gourmet dinner, concocting a wonderful meal, and serving it with the perfect garnish.
And it’s an even bigger thing when I see what he’s printed.
An image of Man Ray’s photo dubbed The Kiss, a close-up shot of a couple’s lips almost meeting. The thunder before the lightning strikes.
A pinwheel spins inside me, shooting off colors and sparks. I turn the card over, but he clasps his hand over mine. “Read it later.”
I bat my eyelashes. “Please? Now?”
He laughs. “So impatient.”
