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"And apparently pays well."

He smiles. "I do all right."

"Something tells me your definition of all right is different from mine. I celebrated getting my last raise by buying the expensive cat litter."

"Cat litter?"

"Five cats. Don't judge me."

"I wouldn't dream of it. What are their names?"

I'm almost suspicious. Most men start looking for the nearest exit when I mention the cats, but Enzo seems genuinely interested.

"Darcy, Poe, Salem, Murder Mittens, and Sir Pounce. Darcy thinks he's royalty, Poe judges everybody, Salem knocks things off shelves, and Sir Pounce is basically an orange throw pillow. Murder Mittens is a furry little psychopath."

Enzo chuckles. "Sounds like quite the household."

"They're my babies. Any man interested in dating me needs to understand the cats were there first."

"Then I'll have to make a good impression."

I look up at him. "You want to meet my cats?"

"Eventually."

"That's a dangerous commitment. Murder Mittens has driven off better men than you."

His mouth curves. "I doubt that."

Before I can decide whether he's flirting or actually suggesting he'll be around long enough to meet my animals, the song ends and Nico approaches us.

"Bridget, having a good time?" the groom asks.

"Absolutely. Although I still haven't figured out what half the food is supposed to be."

Nico laughs before turning toward Enzo, his posture becoming noticeably more respectful. "I appreciate you stepping in earlier. Derek's finally stopped throwing up."

"Glad to hear it," Enzo replies.

"I'm sure the roses appreciate it too," I add.

We're still laughing when a large, dark-haired man approaches and leans close to Enzo's ear. Whatever he says wipes the smile from Enzo's face.

"Not tonight," Enzo tells him quietly. "Handle it."

"Yes, sir."

The man leaves without another word. Enzo turns back toward me, his expression warm again, although I can't quite forget how cold he looked a moment ago.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Business. Nothing for you to worry about."

"That guy looked like he could bench-press a Buick."

"Rocco. My driver and a longtime friend."

"Does he always look like he's expecting somebody to shoot at him?"