She turned back around and narrowed her eyes. “You did something.”
“Nope.”
She crossed her arms as a piece of hair fell across her face and kissed the flour on her right cheek. “I think we’ve established you’re a horrible liar. Did you steal dough?”
Shit. I gulped. “Define steal.”
“Really doubtful that I need to explain stealing to someone who’s a part of organized crime.”
“That’s harsh.” I smirked. “I’m the good guy, remember?”
“If the good guy kills people then marks them on his body, sure, you’re the good guy.”
“They deserved to die.”
She shrugged and examined the bowl. “Fingerprints.”
“Those aren’t mine,” I kept lying. I don’t even know why the hell I would lie about something so stupid, maybe I liked her reaction. Holy shit, who was I kidding? Arguing with her was better than being ignored any day of the week.
Folks, Sergio Abandonato has officially reverted back to the first grade.
Up next watch how he steals all her goldfish and stuffs them in his mouth then pushes her down by the merry-go-round.
“Right here.” She pointed with a knife. “One very large finger, accompanied by two scratches from the lazy knuckles on the side.”
I rolled my eyes. “My hands aren’t lazy. Believe me.”
“If memory serves…”
My jaw dropped. “Are you shitting me right now?”
Her expression was complete innocence. “What?”
Was she talking about sex? Or was I just reading into things. Did it matter? I narrowed my eyes as I slowly made my way around the counter and dipped two fingers into the dough and shoved them into my mouth.
Her face quickly went from innocent to horrified. “You don’t put your fingers in food!”
I burst out laughing. She didn’t.
“Val…” I tried to keep myself from laughing harder. “Do you have a food thing?”
“I d-don’t.” She crossed her arms. “I just. It’s gross when people shove their fingers into fresh food. I mean who knows where your hands have been?”
“They’ve been on you.” I moved a hand to her hip. “Is that gross too?”
She glared. “Yes.”
“Now who’s lying?”
“Still you.”
I moved my other hand so both were bracing her hips. “So, you don’t like people touching your food while you bake. Anything else I should know?”
“I like to wait.”
“Hmm?” I was beyond distracted by the way she felt between my hands. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t cheat. I never taste my own cooking until the finished product. It builds up the taste more… it gives you something to salivate over… something to be anxious for.”
Shit. I was so screwed where she was concerned.
“I promise, I won’t do it again without permission.”
Her smile about knocked me over. “Thank you.” She reached up and kissed my cheek, then jerked back as if suddenly realizing what she’d just done.
I gripped her wrists holding her right in front of me so I had easy access to her lips.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to kiss me. And I’m going to forget to be strong, because your kisses make me forget. And I’m already having trouble remembering why I hate you. It was only a day ago that you forgot my birthday. You can’t just kiss me and make it all better.”
“I know that.”
“No, you think you know that. I can’t… we can’t.” She jerked her hands free. “From here on out, your kisses have to be earned.”
“Are we going to get some sort of sticker chart for this, or am I on my own?”
Her lips twitched with a smile. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Let me know when the cookies are ready…” I wiped some flour from her nose. “And Val?”
“Hmm?” She touched her face where my fingers had grazed.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Her cheeks blushed bright red. “Pink.”
“Pink,” I repeated. “Okay.”
“Sergio?”
“What?” I turned back around.
“What’s yours?”
“Pink.”
She tossed a measuring cup in my direction while I dodged out of the way laughing.
“Be serious!” Her color returned to normal.
I eyed her up and down, not realizing until today that my favorite color had a lot to do with her. I’d never really given much thought to it. Andi and I had joked but I’d never seriously considered the question.
Until now.
I locked eyes with her and whispered, “Brown.” Then turned around and left the room.
…A lover is more condoling. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
I LEFT THE mess for Sergio and went to my room to grab some books. I wasn’t sure if he was going to actually want to hang out the rest of the day or if his little moment of peacemaking was over.
When I finally made it back down to the kitchen it was to see the man himself washing dishes.
If I thought Sergio kissing me, hovering over me as his lips found my neck over and over again was sexy — I was wrong.
Sergio bent over a sink.
I gasped.