Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life 3)

“No, she cares about you. She wants to protect you from anything that might cause you harm. People like you are rare these days. Those who know how rare the qualities you have inside you are will always go to great lengths to protect them.”

“I think you can stop talking now,” I tell him, feeling so full of warmth from his sweet words that I’m afraid I might burst at the seams.

“I’ll stop talking as soon as you tell me that you know I want more than to just fuck you.”

“What?” I whisper as my mouth drops open in surprise at his crass words.

“I saw that look on your face, baby. I know exactly what you were thinking. Now I need you to tell me that you hear me when I say I want more than that from you.”

“I hear you,” I agree as my heart thunders away in my chest and my mind screams.

Please don’t let this be too good to be true.

Chapter 8

FLUKE

LIBBY

“I heard you went on a date with Antonio last night?” Peggy says, coming into the back kitchen, where I’m stirring a pot of marinara sauce that has been cooking most of the day.

“I did.”

I know there’s no use trying to hide the smile that has been on my face since last night, when Antonio dropped me off at my door with a soft kiss and a promise to spend some time with me after we both get off work tonight.

“And . . . ?” she asks, leaning her hip against the counter at my side, crossing her arms over her chest, and raising one eyebrow.

“And we had dinner. It was nice,” I answer vaguely, not wanting anything to get back to Martina.

“Just nice?” She frowns.

Dinner was beyond nice. I found out that Antonio can be more sweetheart than jerk when he wants to be. That he’s easy to talk to and quick to laugh. That he’s gentle and affectionate. Throughout dinner, he found reasons to touch me, to hold my hand or caress my face. After we left the restaurant, we walked with nowhere in mind. Then we stopped at a small café and shared a slice of chocolate cake. It was the perfect night, the perfect first date. Even the way he left me at my door with a soft kiss and nothing more was perfect.

“I had a great time.”

“Okay, so are you going to go out with him again?” she asks.

“We have plans tonight,” I admit. Her eyes light up. “You can’t tell Martina,” I add quickly when she starts to open her mouth. “I know you talk all the time, but I don’t want her to know that we are seeing each other again. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because if things don’t go well tonight, I don’t want her to be disappointed.”

“Why wouldn’t things go well?” she asks, looking suddenly worried.

“Because last night could have been a fluke,” I say, taking my eyes off her and going back to stirring the pot on the stove.

Like I said, last night was perfect. But nothing can stay perfect forever, which is why there is such a high demand for romantic movies and ice cream.

“Last night wasn’t a fluke.”

A deep voice I know all too well rumbles behind me, making me jump. I spin around to face Antonio, who had at some point stepped silently into the kitchen.

“You can tell my mom that Libby and I are spending time together tonight, and then again tomorrow, and the next day after that,” he says, looking at Peggy.

“Antonio . . . !” I hiss.

His gaze snaps to mine.

“Are we not spending time together?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well . . . yeah?”

It was news to me that we would be spending the next few days together—good news, but still news.

“Then she can know about it.”

“I don’t th—”

“I do.” He cuts me off before I can tell him that I still don’t think it’s a good idea.

“Well, I think a customer just came in. I’m going to go check,” Peggy lies before hurrying out of the back kitchen toward the front of the shop.

Antonio and I have a stare-down.

“I think we should talk about what we tell people about us,” I say after a long moment.

He shakes his head and takes a step toward me. His hand comes up to wrap around the side of my neck. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I think we do.”

I try not to be distracted by how good his hand feels on my neck, with his thumb sweeping softly against my pulse.

“If I didn’t think we had staying power, I’d agree with you.”

What?

“What?” I whisper aloud.

“You like me, right?”

“I . . .”

“You like me, and I like you.”

“You like me?” I ask stupidly.

His head jerks back.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, but you’re cute when you’re clueless.” He leans in to touch his mouth to mine quickly; then he pulls back, meeting my gaze once more. “Mom already knows we have plans tonight. I told her about them.”