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“What’s this?” André asked.
“It’s you and me escaping for another two nights. Alone. No teens. No dog needing to pee at four a.m. Just us.”
André had to admit that sounded nice. They weren’t officially living together, but André tended to stay at Dante’s most of the time. After living alone for most of his adult life, André was surprised how quickly and painlessly he’d adapted to sharing space with Dante.
Xavier Stone was keeping an eye out for a house for them. The elderly owners of Pizza Mart had accepted Dante’s offer to buy the restaurant. Cooper Springs would soon have an Italian café—Dante Castone style. The remodel was almost finished, with the grand opening scheduled for just two weeks from now—smack in the middle of Magnus Ferguson’s Shakespeare beach theater production. Life was damn good.
“Come on, let’s go inside. We have a lot to celebrate.”
Dante popped open the car door and climbed out.
“Oh, good, more celebrating,” teased André as Dante unlocked the door and ushered him into the tiny space. They celebrated a lot and it usually ended with them wrapped around each other in bed.
The cabin was furnished with a bed covered with a colorful quilt that looked handmade, a kitchenette, and a tiny table for eating at or possibly doing jigsaw puzzles—there were a few stacked on a built-in shelf. The bed would be getting a lot of use.
“Are you sure we have time for this, with Osteria Castone opening so soon?”
André set his roller bag next to the door while Dante began unpacking the groceries he’d stopped for a few miles back. The bottle of prosecco he left out on the counter.
“We have more time now than we will for a while. And you’ve been gone. I missed you, so I’m being selfish and stealing you away for one extra night. Lani can handle it.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to handle me being gone so well, I’ll be out of a job.”
“Nah,” Dante said, “she doesn’t like all the paperwork.”
“Nobody likes it.”
“You can’t fool me, André, with your abnormal love for spreadsheets.”
“I do enjoy a good spreadsheet.” André laughed. “And pivot tables.”
“Sicko. But I love you anyway, André Dear. I’ll never get tired of telling you.”
Who else knew that gruff, rough Dante Castone had a hidden soft center? André suspected that the list was short: Daniella, André, and Luna. That was fine with André; he didn’t want to share.
“I love you too, Dante.”
Dante popped the cork out of the bottle and poured each of them a glass of the sparkling wine. He’d even brought plastic champagne glasses.
“You think of everything.”
Dante smirked. “I do. I even found a couple of cozies by that new author you like.”
“You did?”
André moved to set down his prosecco so he could check out the books, but Dante stopped him.
“Toast first and, you know,otherthings before I lose you to the life and crimes of the Red Nipper, or whatever you’re reading at the moment.”
“The Red Nipper?” André repeated. “Is that an elderly serial killer who uses fingernail clippers?”
With a smile and a shake of his head, Dante held out his glass. “To you and me finally getting it right.”
“To us,” André agreed, bumping his glass against Dante’s.
He met Dante’s warm gaze and they both took a healthy sip of the sparkling wine. Then, still looking into each other’s eyes, they set the glasses down onto the small table. With a satisfied smile, Dante moved into André’s space and wrapped his arms around him.
“Let’s get to the next part of this celebration.” His deft fingers fiddled with the top button of André’s shirt and moved on to the next. “Then I will make us dinner.”
