His head bows as he takes in the aroma of the linguine and the unmistakable smell of freshly baked rosemary focaccia. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ve ever smelled anything this good before.”
I glance to my left, meeting his gaze. “She’s the best cook I know.”
He stalls with his eyes glued to mine. We stay that way for what feels like endless moments, although it’s only a few seconds.
“I’ll get plates and utensils.” He starts toward his kitchen. “Is sparkling water good for you?”
“It’s good for me and you,” I bounce back with a grin. “You’re sobering up nicely.”
His laughter follows the sound of a cupboard door closing. “I should have had lunch, but nothing on the room service menu sounded appetizing, so I went with what I know. Whiskey.”
I open the tray of lobster linguine and the brown paper bag containing the already cut, still-warm focaccia. Peering into the other insulated bag, I let out a squeal.
“What was that for?” Barrett stalks toward me carrying a wooden tray. It holds plates, utensils, gray linen napkins, a large bottle of sparkling water,
and two glasses. “I know excitement when I hear it.”
I can’t contain a smile. “She packed my favorite dessert. Honey ricotta cheesecake.”
Setting the tray down, Barrett turns to face me. “I can’t wait to taste everything.”
My eyes linger on his lips. They’re just the right shape and fullness. It must be incredible to kiss them.
He touches his hand to mine. “Did I lose you for a second? You drifted away.”
The brush of his fingers on my skin is electric. The need inside of me is coiled so tightly that I may burst if I don’t pull back. So I do. I take a step to the side, dropping my gaze to the food. “Let’s dig in.”
Pulling out a chair, he motions for me to sit. “You have to thank your grandmother for me, Bella.”
Bella. Again.
Settling onto the leather, I whisper. “I like that.”
He takes the seat at the head of the table, next to me. “You like what?”
Looking up, I pull in a breath to quiet my nerves. “I like it when you call me Bella.”
“It suits you.” He reaches for a plate, a napkin, and some utensils. “Isabella does too, but the more I get to know you, the more I see that you’re my Bella or a Bella. I meant you’re more a Bella than an Isabella.”
His Bella.
It may have been just a slip of his tongue, but I liked the way it sounded and how it made me feel even if it was only for a split second in time.
***
Dale: Hey beautiful.
My eyes drop to my phone’s screen and the incoming message. The chime lures Barrett’s gaze to it too.
Dammit. I meant to change the settings on the messaging app so that my incoming texts don’t pop up on my lock screen.
Dropping my fork on my plate, I slide the phone closer to me, just as another text arrives.
Dale: I’m still waiting for an answer to my big question.
Barrett clears his throat. “If you’re going to Philadelphia to visit him, you need to run the dates by me first.”
What the hell?