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His smile could disarm a bank robber. It’s that captivating.
“Carrie said she loved the dessert pizza,” Posey tells him. “You brought one for her, didn’t you?”
He nods. “That one and another new one. Consider it a first taste.”
A knock at the door sends Posey in that direction. Since I’m expecting a floral delivery for her, it’s perfect that she’ll be handed the bouquet of wildflowers.
I wanted to thank her, in my own way, for painting the mural for my sister.
When she swings the door open, it’s not a stranger holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
It’s Rook Thorsen.
He’s dressed down in jeans and a black V-neck sweater. I tear my gaze from him to focus on what’s in his hand.
It’s at least three dozen lavender roses. The stems are bound together with a beautiful deep purple ribbon.
As Posey moves aside, Rook takes one step forward and smiles at me.
That’s a smile that can turn my world upside down. I feel that now as my heart skips a full beat.
“Hey, Carrie,” he says, his voice husky. “These are for you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rook
I thought the flowers would impress Carrie. Little did I know that a tattooed beast of a chef would be lurking right behind her.
The guy’s biceps are a work of art.
I work out like a champ as often as I can, but I’ve got nothing on Elio Franzini.
Thank fuck Carrie seems more entranced with the roses in my hand than anything going on with Elio.
She steps toward me. “Those are for me?”
Before I can answer, someone is clearing his throat behind me.
I turn toward the still open door to see a young guy with a toothpick clenched between his teeth, a New York Mets cap on his head, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, too.
What the hell is going on?
From where I’m standing, it looks like this kid had the same brilliant idea I did today.
Little does he know that lavender roses are Carrie’s favorite, so I’ve clearly won this round.
I could do without all the extra competition, though. I assumed Carrie and Posey would be the only people here, but it looks like I was dead wrong.
“Oh, hi,” Carrie calls to the guy in the doorway. “I ordered those. Thanks for delivering them.”
He nods. “No problem, darling.”
Posey lets out a giggle. “Cute.”
“Thanks, darling,” he tosses that same endearment at her.
It seems this guy’s repertoire consists of one note.
