Page 75 of My Favorite Boss

“Not much to cook with,” she observed.

“I didn’t plan on making you cook. Where would you like to go for dinner?” I asked.

“Pizza?” she asked hopefully.

“Really?”

“I love pizza, and it’s a treat I don’t get very often.”

“Pizza it is. There is a little place a few blocks away I like.”

“Okay.”

She came closer, smiling at me. “I like your outfit. You look very handsome. Casual but stylish.”

I chuckled. “I can dress down. I don’t always wear a suit.”

She frowned. “I was sure you slept in one.”

I tugged her close. “You slept with me, Magnolia. You know the only suit I wear to bed is my birthday one.”

“Oh, I thought that was a special occasion. I assumed you got up in the morning looking perfect and ready for the day.”

I laughed and swatted her ass. “Enough of your sass. Let’s go to dinner.”

Enzo’s was busy, but we got a table near the back. I ordered a bottle of wine, and we argued over pizza toppings, deciding to get two smaller ones rather than one large. I added a salad, and as we waited for dinner, we chatted about various things.

“Will you go see your father on Sunday?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“May I go with you?”

She frowned, took a sip of her wine, then met my eyes. “You really want to do that?”

I took her hand that had begun to fidget with the edge of the tablecloth. I lifted it to my mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. “You start tearing at things with your fingers when you’re nervous.”

“I always have. I used to tear my napkins under the table or shred a little piece of paper under my desk at school to help me stay calm.”

“Why does it make you nervous about me meeting your dad?”

“He might be having an off day. I don’t want you to think badly of him. He’s truly a lovely man.”

The love she had for her father tugged at something in my chest. I could hear her pain beneath her words.

“How about I take you, and if he isn’t up to it, I’ll go do something else while you visit. If it’s an okay day, I’ll come in.”

Her eyes lit up. “That would be great.”

The pizza arrived, and we dove into dinner. I laughed at her combo, teasing her about a total salt fest on her sausage, bacon, olives, and extra cheese pizza. She informed me my goat cheese, ham, and asparagus was snooty. We both tried a slice of the other’s pizza, and I grudgingly had to admit hers was better. It tasted like pizza. The one I ordered was delicious but, as she pointed out, a great appetizer, not pizza. She let me finish hers off, deciding mine would make a great snack for later. We shared some tiramisu and sipped lattes, enjoying the cozy ambiance.

She took a sip and I grinned. “You have some foam by your mouth.”

She swiped at it, missing it entirely. I leaned closer, wrapping my hand around her neck and pulling her to my mouth. I kissed away the foam, then took her mouth, tasting her latte and the sweet dessert. I sat back, shaking my head in wonder.

“Thank you,” I breathed out.

“For being a messy coffee drinker?”