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I glance at him, taking in his freshly showered appearance. He smells good enough to eat. “What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s right before six. We’re having spaghetti and salad. I just showered and I’m ready to eat now,” he says through a smile.
I push up from the bed to get a better view of him. “Why did you take another shower?”
“I’ve been training all afternoon with Vincent and Hart. I was sweaty,” he says.
“Okay, but wait, did you say spaghetti? Do you have ketchup?” I ask excitedly.
Hawk wrinkles his nose. “You still eat spaghetti with ketchup on it? I should’ve known some things never change.” He chuckles for the first time since we got here. “And yes, we have ketchup.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks. “Thanks, I uh, let me freshen up a bit and I’ll be right down.”
He smiles and says, “I’m in no rush, I’ll wait.”
“Uh, okay,” I murmur before heading to the bathroom. It’s still steamy in here from his shower, so I take a towel and wipe the steam from the mirror in front of me. I didn’t put on makeup this morning, so I apply a quick coat of mascara and my favorite peach-flavored balm. After running a brush through my wavy locks, I pull it into a low ponytail.
Hawk is waiting for me by the door, wearing light-colored jeans and a simple white T-shirt. His tanned arms are across his expansive chest. Who knew a simple white T-shirt could be so sexy? Heat rushes to my core as I take him in. He catches me watching as my mouth waters a bit.
“You ready?” he asks, biting back a smile like he knows what he does to me.
“Uh…sure, I mean yes. Lead the way,” I trip over my words.
He extends his arm and I loop mine through his. We’re silent as we head down the stairs. He stops and pulls me to him before we get to the dining room where I hear voices already deep in what sounds like lighthearted conversation. He tips my chin up with his finger and thumb. “Me and you…we’re talking after dinner. No interruptions. I need you to hear everything from me. I can only hope you’ll forgive me for not telling you sooner. I’ll answer any questions you have; I promise.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to like what you tell me. But I’ll listen,” I tell him honestly.
“We all have a past, and it can’t be changed. There are things I’d do differently if I’d known what I know now, but even still, I can’t help but think my past brought me right back here to you.” He leans down and claims my lips with his in a tender kiss I wasn’t expecting. This man has made me feel so many emotions in the span of such a little amount of time, my head is spinning.
When we break apart, he gently holds my face in his calloused hands. “You’re so beautiful,dolcezza.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as he gives me a lopsided grin and takes my hand before he gently tugs me to the dining room. Everyone is there, including Hart, as we take our seats. And true to his word, once the spaghetti is served, a bottle of ketchup appears with my plate.
I glance over and smile at Hawk sheepishly as Wren speaks up, “What is the ketchup for?”
Hawk takes joy in reminding her. “Don’t you remember when we were kids, she always ate ketchup with her spaghetti?” he says while chuckling.
Wren scrunches up her nose in disgust. “Ew, no. I’m afraid I blocked out that detail.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’ve eaten it like that since I can remember.”
Hart stares at me for a moment before shaking his head with the smallest of smiles.
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” I say while laughing.
Valentina appears to be amused and tries it, and then they all do except Wren. I wait on them to tell me what they think. “It’s not bad,” Hawk says.
The rest of the table agrees and finally Wren tries it hesitantly. She loses a noodle, and it hangs from her lip to her chin and she less than eloquently slurps it into her mouth as Hart watches with mild interest.
She notices him but faces me. “Okay, it’s good. But not something I’ll pair up regularly,” she says as she chews.
I laugh and say, “I told you.”
Hart is sitting across from Hawk and beside Wren when she finally turns on him. “What? What are you staring at?” she says with exasperation.
He doesn’t flinch or miss a beat. “You’ve got a little something…” He trails off and rubs his chin to gesture what he means.
Wren’s normally tan complexion is tinted with red as she wipes the sauce-and-ketchup concoction from her chin.
