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She’d been delighted when Luca had told them to pack a bag for the weekend this morning as they lay in bed, trying to ignore his early-as-fuck alarm. As a model, she’d pulled some early mornings, but since moving to Philadelphia, she’d become a professional at waking up naturally.
When Luca announced his plan for a weekend escape, Conor had been quick to offer an alternative to the cabin-in-the-woods idea. Obviously, Conor wasn’t much of an outdoorsman. She and Luca had laughed their asses off when he pointed out that every horror movie in the world couldn’t be wrong when it came to sleeping in a secluded cabin in the middle of the forest. He’d even gone so far as to offer to fly them to New York City in his family’s private jet and put them up in a ritzy suite in the middle of Times Square, sweetening the deal with the offer of a spa day and Broadway show.
Luca had been completely unimpressed, so Harper suggested a compromise. They would take Luca’s trip this weekend, and Conor’s another.
“There’s no TV,” Conor pointed out as he joined Harper in the living area.
Luca, who’d been putting the groceries in the fridge, turned around and scoffed.
“Now you’re really reaching for shit to bitch about. There’s a TV in every room in your penthouse, including the fucking big screen in the theater room,” Luca pointed out. “We haven’t turned a single one on in two weeks.”
Conor couldn’t argue with that, so he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he plopped down on the couch, lightly rubbing his chest as he glanced around the small space again, a slight stress line creasing the space between his eyebrows.
Luca had convinced their workaholic lover to take off a few hours early so they could begin their two-hour drive to the Poconos shortly after three. Perhaps it was stress over missing work that had Conor looking slightly on edge. Hopefully once they got settled, he’d start to relax and enjoy himself.
Luca had taken the whole day off—his first break since work had begun on the restaurant—so by the time he’d picked them up, the car was loaded with groceries, wine, beer, a case of water, bait for fishing, and everything else he claimed they would need for the next couple of days.
“I bought some steaks.” Luca tossed a pack of meat on the counter. “Thought we could grill these for dinner.”
The moment Luca mentioned food, Harper found herself gravitating toward the kitchen, curious about what else he’d packed. She’d done most of the cooking over the past couple of months, Luca and Conor referring to themselves as her “sous chefs,” which meant they leaned on the counter, drinking wine or beer, handing her ingredients or stirring the pot while she did the lion’s share of the labor.
Before she could peek into the refrigerator, Luca closed it on her, holding it shut.
She frowned, but he didn’t give her a chance to complain.
“You’ve been cooking for us nonstop, Harper. This weekend, we’re feeding you.”
Harper wasn’t entirely sure that was the kind gesture he intended. The guy really was a disaster when it came to over-seasoning and overcooking. “I like feeding you,” she said, trying not to reveal her concerns.
Luca gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “And believe me, we love you feeding us too. But let us do this for you. One weekend. I swear, sunshine, I bought stuff that even we can’t screw up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Conor said from the opposite side of the kitchen counter. “I don’t even know what’s on the menu.”
Luca smirked. “Trust me, Oven Mitt. You can handle it.”
Harper laughed at the nickname, one she and Luca had given Conor a few nights earlier when Harper had asked him to pull the pizza from the oven—and he’d reached right in, grabbing the stone with his bare hand.
“Burned the hell out of my hand,” Conor grumbled, though he was grinning. “And that was your fault, Luca. You were distracting me.”
Luca shrugged unapologetically. “Not my fault you’ve got a sexy ass.”
He’d been fondling said ass, his hands shoved in the back pockets of Conor’s jeans, when she’d made her ill-timed request.
“So how did you find this place?” Harper asked.
Luca opened a bottle of red wine, pouring a glass for Harper. “It belongs to Uncle Cesar and Aunt Margaret, Liza’s parents,” he added for clarification, which Harper appreciated, because damn, he had a big family.
“They used to bring their kids up here at least once a month year-round,” Luca continued.
Conor frowned as he looked around the cabin. “Liza is one of four kids.”
Luca chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’m one of five, and we used to come here from time to time too. Uncle Cesar likes to see the place used, so he was always offering it up to the rest of the family on weeks when his brood wasn’t coming. When we were kids, Mom and Dad would bring us up here one week each summer. We didn’t have a lot of money, so it was the only vacation they could afford.”
“Where the hell did you all sleep?” Conor asked.
Luca pointed to the living area. “Sleeping bags on the floor. It was great.”
“It sounds great.” Harper carried her wine to the kitchen table, sitting down as Luca grabbed a bag of frozen fries from the freezer. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, so she responded in kind by rolling her eyes, then sticking her finger down her throat in true “gag” style, especially since she’d spent one night teaching them how to make homemade fries. “Lazy,” she mouthed.
