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We found Mama’s, and the line to get in wrapped around the building and continued down the street. “Are you kidding me?” I complained, my stomach growling loudly. “I’m starving.”
“Well, we came all this way. Might as well see what the fuss is about, right?”
I glared mutinously, blaming Luca for my burning calves, my pissy attitude and my grumbling belly. “These better be some utterly fantastic pancakes,” I warned, folding my arms across my chest.
Luca chuckled, earning some appreciative glances from the closest women, and I wanted to bare my teeth at them like a wolverine defending its territory. Knock it off. You don’t want him, remember? I drew a deep, calming breath and tried to find my center. “If you enjoy the Bay Area so much, why do you stay in New York?”
“New York is where my family is,” he answered, adding with a shrug, “and New York is my home.”
“Do you like New York?”
“I like some aspects of it, others not as much. But I can travel anywhere I want, so it doesn’t really bother me to keep New York as my home base.”
Yes, obscene wealth had its perks, I thought drily.
But there was something about his admission that gave me pause. Did Luca want more than what his family expected of him? I’d always assumed that Luca bought into the Donato empire without question.
Disquiet seamed my mouth shut. I didn’t want to see Luca as complicated. I didn’t want to look too closely at my own biases, because that opened a can of worms I wasn’t ready to wrangle.
My stomach growled again, and I repeated, mostly to myself, “Those pancakes better be life changing,” because it was far safer to focus on pancakes than anything else currently crowding my brain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luca
IF THERE WERE an award for ignoring a herculean boner, I would’ve won it.
I might’ve even suffered permanent damage from walking with giant wood trying to bust through my jeans.
But whatever the cost, it’d been worth watching Katherine struggle to make heads or tails of my unexpected behavior.
She expected me to try to get in her pants—and God knew I wanted to—but the stakes were much higher than satisfying a need to fuck.
I wanted Katherine to want me as much as I wanted her. I had no doubt I could get her in bed—that was an easy but ultimately hollow victory. Hell, I could’ve fucked her six ways from Sunday with her blessings this morning, but it wouldn’t put my ring on her finger.
Overcoming her pride was the first hurdle to returning her to my bed for good.
I knew better than to try to sweet-talk Katherine when she was hungry—the woman was ruled by her stomach, and right now she looked ready to start eating her way through the line of people—but forty-five minutes was a long time to simply stare at each other without conversation.
“Would you like to know our plans for today?” I asked solicitously.
“I would,” she agreed with a wary expression, as if I were going to trick her into getting married at a courthouse. “Does it involve more walking? Because my feet are dead.”
“No more walking,” I promised her with a chuckle. “Since you’ve never been to San Francisco, I thought we’d do the tourist thing for the day. Alcatraz, the Presidio, etc.”
Her expression brightened slowly with a smile. “That sounds fun,” she said but added, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Katherine...you have to give me a chance to show you I’m not the man you think I am,” I pointed out, mildly amused by her stubborn desire to paint me as the devil. I mean, I suppose in certain circles I was evil incarnate, but with her...I would be her white knight. “We could even check out the observatory, hit a museum or two...whatever you’d like.”
“Really?” She still didn’t trust my motives. Smart woman. “And then?”
“And then a little shopping,” I suggested with a small smile, gesturing to my clothes. “Obviously I didn’t come prepared to sightsee.”
“And tonight?” Katherine pressed, watching me intently. “Where are we going tonight?”
“Well, first we are going to check out of that heap you call a hostel and into something less bohemian before dinner and a show. Sound good?”
“It sounds incredible,” she agreed, but her gaze narrowed. “You’re planning something.”
“Even if I were...you’re committed to doing whatever I choose, as it’s my day and evening,” I reminded her. I doubted I’d get much pushback on the hotel—she played a good game, but I could tell she hated the hostel, too—but if I told her about my true plans for us...she’d bolt. No, it was better to leave a little mystery. “But let’s enjoy the day. I haven’t been a tourist in a long time. This should be fun.”
I brightened as I thought of something else to add, saying, “Let’s check out the pier where the sea lions hang out. Those fat fuckers are pretty entertaining.”
Katherine’s gaze widened at my casual attitude. I guess it was my fault that I’d spent too much time in business mode, neglecting my future wife. I should’ve been wooing her way before now, but I’d taken for granted that she would be there when the time came.
Somewhere along the way, Katherine had changed from an adoring teen to an independent, way-too-fucking stubborn woman who didn’t believe a word that came out of my mouth and was prepared to call me on my shit.
To be honest, the new Katherine was hot as fuck.
The challenge fired me up in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time.
After an interminably long wait—I secretly agreed with Katherine that the pancakes better be life changing—we were seated in the cramped eatery/bakery.
San Francisco was a foodie town, and they were serious about their eats. I wasn’t accustomed to waiting for anything. As a Donato, I was seated at the best tables and never asked to wait longer than it took to check my coat at the most pretentious restaurants in New York, and I’d forgotten how the other half lived.
But I enjoyed the wait with Katherine. The way the morning sun kissed her crown, lighting up her face, made up for the crease that seemed punched on her forehead. My bride-to-be was such a grump when hungry.
We ordered, and within a relatively short time, our food arrived.
I was suitably impressed with the service, but before I could sample the food, Katherine was already diving in, stuffing her face with banana pancakes.
Syrup dripped from her lip as butter melted in a gooey pool on top of the stack. Her tongue darted to lick the syrup away and I nearly knocked the table over from the instant erection that sprang from my pants.
She groaned with open delight, and I forgot about my own quickly cooling breakfast.
“It’s good,” Katherine admitted, closing her eyes as she chewed, savoring each bite. “God, it’s good.”
I swallowed and managed to drag my gaze away before she found me staring like a starving man who’d just stumbled on a fresh deli sandwich. “Yeah?” I said, clearing my throat and focusing on my plate. What the hell did I order? Oh, right, eggs and bacon. Definitely not as exciting as a carb-loading free-for-all. I shoveled in a bite just to do something to short-circuit my intense need to lick the sweetness from her soft lips.
“You were right—worth the wait,” she said with a giggle, the sound tickling my groin. “What do they put in these things? Crack? So good!” She paused midbite to ask, “Want to try?”
I looked up and saw her with a forkful in offering. How could I resist? I opened my mouth like a baby bird. Damn, she was right. “My money is on crack,” I agreed. “That’s unnaturally delicious.”
“Right?” She laughed, returning to her plate. “Who knew the secret to happiness was to be found in a tiny, crowded bakery in San Francisco?”
