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“Aw. Just for me?” I ask, teasing him.
He grins, sexy and shirtless, and obviously very proud of himself. “Just for you.”
I’m handed a plate full of overcooked eggs, the least burned piece of toast, and three floppy, partially cooked strips of bacon.
Holding my laughter in is excruciating. The man can explain the science behind the makings of wine, but he can’t make something as simple as toast?
“This is…” I glance at a wincing Victoria while he pours me a cup of English breakfast tea. “It’s really great, Rowan. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He offers me a fork, then returns to the stove to make himself a plate. “Let me know what you think.”
I take a moment to enjoy the view of those back muscles flexing while he scoops food from the pans to his plate, then stabs a cluster of eggs. I chew the rubbery, bland bite with what I hope is a convincing smile. “It’s wonderful.”
“Really?” His face beams with childlike excitement.
Oh my god, my heart. He’s so damn hopeful, I can’t bear to tell him the truth. “Mm-hmm.”
“See, guys? I can cook,” he says, playfully arrogant, before settling into the chair beside me. “Can’t wait to rub that in Lucas’s face. He’s the cook of the family, you know.”
“I remember,” I say, amused by him.
And I don’t think he’s got much competition…
I carefully nibble the most cooked portion of bacon as he scoops a forkful of eggs.
When he pops the bite into his mouth, he chews once, twice, and then his brows scrunch.
Reginald drags a hand down his face, and I snag my lower lip between my teeth when Victoria sighs. “I’ll have something edible prepared for you both in just a moment.”
“I’ll help,” Reginald says, bustling behind her to move the dirty pans off the stove.
“So much for that.” Rowan drops the fork onto his plate and shoves it away.
“Hey, it’s okay.” When he eventually looks at me, I take his hand and give it a squeeze. “I appreciate you going through all this trouble for me.”
“I just wanted to take care of you.”
“You do that plenty well without stressing the staff out, I promise.” He pouts in that bratty way of his, and I steal it from his lips. “If it’s any consolation, that was a pretty romantic gesture. Jack Dawson would be impressed.”
“Yeah?” He sits a little straighter.
“Absolutely.” I kiss him again, lingering longer than before, and he groans against me.
“Okay, but me and you are avoiding the North Atlantic at all costs,” he says sternly.
“Deal.”
He gathers me off the chair, grinning at the giggle I bury against his chest.
“I think I could get used to this,” I whisper as he carries me back to his room.
His reply is a soft, comforting, “Me, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rowan
I’ve got to hand it to Gia, she spared no expense creating a beautiful atmosphere for our engagement party in and outside of Bella Trattoria.
