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“When you told him what?” I asked, so eagerly that I felt the need to cover for myself. “That you would marry his daughter or something?”
He shot me a quick glance, amusement entering his expression. “You know what? He did offer his blessing.”
“Fab,” I said, returning to the dough.
He nudged me with his hip. “I told him I wasn’t in the market for it.”
Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better.
Another bump of his hip against my side. “As cute as you get when you’re jealous, I don’t want to see you frowning, Rosie.”
“I’m not frowning,” I muttered. “And I’m not jealous, either.”
He laughed. “All right, index and middle finger out, press softly into the middle of the ball. Just like I’m doing.”
With maximum care, I followed his lead. Switching to my knuckles when he told me to and trying really hard not to get caught up in the meticulous and confident motion of his hands, which became a hardship really quickly, because the sight of Lucas’s hands working was turning me… unproductive.
“So, Rosie,” Lucas said, lifting the dough with a slow spin. “How many words did you get in since our first date? Any luck with that inspiration?”
Imitating him, I held my dough in the air but it just… stretched down languidly. “I think I’m doing something wrong.”
His hands came over mine, sending a sharp flare of electricity up my arms.
“Thanks,” I told him quietly, letting him take over control of my motions. “Some words,” I answered just so I wouldn’t think of his warm palms pressed against the back of my much smaller hands. “Not many with Olly and everything. But some. Definitely some. I’m…”
His strong fingers intertwined with mine for a moment, distracting me.
“You’re what?” He pressed.
Our fingers worked the dough in circular motions, and I had to clear my throat. “Starting to feel the inspiration.”
Lucas moved our hands to the counter, resting them on both sides of the stretched dough.
“Just so you know, I’m dying to hear all the details about Officer Burns’s best friend.”
Officer Burns? Hold on. Did that mean that Lucas had—
“Have you read my first book?” I blurted out.
“I’m a thorough man,” he said, repeating his earlier words, not answering my question. “And I won’t ask about the second until you’re done. I don’t want to jinx what we’re doing here.”
I wrinkled my nose, not thinking about Lucas reading the steamy scenes of the book but focusing instead on how happy it made me tohear he was that invested in this. In me. In my writing. My books. I’d been so busy trying to protect myself from what anyone could say, writing in secret, hiding behind a pen name, that I hadn’t shared this with anybody but Lina. And I… God, I loved how it felt hearing that this man cared. “Jinx it, huh? You’re superstitious?”
“I’d love to say no, but I’d rather bite my arm off than walk under a ladder.”
A laugh burst out of me.
He froze, as if the sound had caught him off guard. Then, I felt more than heard him exhale through his nose before finally stepping away, leaving me a little unbalanced without the safety of his hands on mine.
“So…” I trailed off, recovering as best as I could. “What toppings are we using?”
“We have a little bit of everything. But I want you to be creative.”
“Creativity hasn’t been my strong suit lately.”
“Rosie,” he said in a way that made me look over at him, “I believe in you. I’m Team Rosie, remember?”
I smiled to myself, reveling in how good, how confident, hearing that made me feel. Then, I reached for a few slices of some cured sausage and worked in silence for a while.
