24
FRANCESCA
I didn’t see Wolfe at the winery the next day.
My father had sent him and some of the others on errands, and I wasn’t sure exactly what those errands were. My father didn’t share every single aspect of the business with me, and I assumed that was intentional.
I was swamped absorbing Lombardi’s business and merging it with ours, on top of everything else I had to do. And if I was this busy, then that meant all the guys were busy too. I wasn’t sure when Wolfe and I would have any days off in the future, let alone at the same time. Sunday was the only slow day we had at the winery, and we usually went to church as a family, so I was still busy anyway.
I had dinner in the oven when Wolfe texted.On my way.
I didn’t invite him over anymore. There was just this unspoken assumption between us that he would come over whenever he was able to get away. I still hadn’t gone to his place yet, but now we had a routine. And when I made dinner, I always cooked for two instead of one. As with all men, a hot meal at the end of the day meant a lot to him. He didn’t explicitly say that, but I could tell he was excited for it.
I liked to cook, so I didn’t mind.
And I especially liked to cook for him.
He let himself inside without knocking with his bag over his shoulder. “Hey, baby.” He set the bag on the couch then walked up to me, looking me up and down, wearing one of the t-shirts he’d left here. “You look hot.” His arms circled me and he kissed me, gripping me tightly like he always did.
“Thanks. You always look hot.”
“I know.” He pulled away and showed the smirk on his face. “What’s for dinner?”
“Short-rib ravioli.”
“Ooh, that has my name written all over it. Need help?”
“You can set the table.”
“Yes, signorina.” He grabbed everything and set the table. Then he took something out of his bag, a thick white envelope, and set it on the counter before he took a seat and pulled out his phone, firing off a couple texts.
“What’s this?”
“Cash.”
“For…?”
“I’ve taken you out once, and you’ve cooked for me ever since.”
“So?”
“I should be taking care of you.”
“It’s just dinner, Wolfe.”
“I’m a big man, I eat a lot, and I know food isn’t cheap, so just take the money.”
“I don’t want to.”
He finally put down his phone and looked at me, irritation swimming in his gaze. “It’s been a long day, and I’d love to have dinner, ask you about your day, make love to you, and then go to bed. So please just take the money.”
“Make love to me?”
“What else do you think we’re doing?” he asked seriously. “You fuck a one-night stand or a situationship. This is a fully committed, monogamous, deep and passionate relationship. So yeah, it’s not fucking at that point.”
I stared at him from where I stood in the kitchen.
He stared back, silently doubling down on what he’d said.
