Page 72 of Falling for Mr. October

“It is never too early to pay respect to the dead,” Nonna Francesca says. Her tone seems a little grandiose given that she’d been actively hostile toward Ted while he was alive.

“Nonna Rose, you’ve got curlers in your hair.”

“Ted always liked my curlers,” she says, just as Nonna Francesca adds, “The dead won’t mind.”

“No need to wait up for us,” Nonna Rose says. “We’ll be gone all day.”

“You’re planning to spend all day at the graveyard?”

“We have lots of visiting to do,” Nonna Francesca says. “And then we’re going to see about another wagon. Rose’s friend will bring us.”

“Yes,” Nonna Rose agrees. “But I already told Theo to call in those weed boys. You need a day off. You’ve been working too hard.”

I feel like I should object, or perhaps offer to go with them. Especially if they think they’re going to haggle. Then again, I have no objection to having a morning at home with Bianca.

So I let them hurry out, Nonna’s curlers still in place.

An hour later, when the graham crackers are cooling and the nonnas are who the hell knows where, Bianca finally strides into the kitchen in her pajamas.

A smile inches up my face. Her pajama shirt is black, but it has a smiling apple on it—not Sir Gala-Head, thank God—and the slogan “Apple Pie Enthusiast.” The Evergreens & Apples logo is on the back. Her pajama pants are black too, with little white apples printed all over them. Her hair’s in a messy bun, and she looks fucking adorable.

“Is there coffee?” she asks, rubbing her eyes.

“I drank your cappuccino.”

She frowns at me.

I grin back. “I did you a favor. The nonnas left a while ago. They’re planning to spend all day at the graveyard. They said they won’t be back until late.”

“That’s morbid of them.”

“I know, it seemed more like something you’d want to do. But my point is that your cappuccino was getting cold. No one wants a cold cappuccino. I’ll make you a fresh one.”

While I busy myself with the machine, she walks over to the graham crackers, her face lighting up. “You already made them. They smell so good. Did you put…?” She pauses, closing her eyes, and inhales deeply, looking so adorable it should be illegal. Her eyes flutter open. “Apples. You put dried apples in them.”

Her grin is infectious, and I return it. “I felt it was my duty as Mr. October. I couldn’t do the town right otherwise.”

“Can I try one?”

“They’re not hard enough yet,” I say, then immediately regret my choice of words. If I were a man who blushed, my cheeks would be bright red.

Of course, she’s Bianca, so she still notices. She grins at me, and I swear under my breath.

“It’s not my fault, Bianca. Honest to God. That ‘Smut Slut’ hat has done devious things to my mind. It should be studied by science.”

“It’s okay. I’ll wait for them to get hard,” she says, making me groan.

She reaches over and pushes my chest lightly. Her fingers barely touch me before dropping back to her side, but the sensation spiderwebs over me, making my whole body ache to touch her.

God, when did it get this bad?

It’s been less than a week since I first kissed her, but I’ve thought about that kiss every day. Okay, every hour. Possibly every minute.

I remind myself of all the reasons why this fake relationship needs to stay fake, but with Bianca this close to me, it’s hard to remember.

I clear my throat, leaning back against the counter. “You already made the marshmallows.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night.” She hesitates, her gaze settling on me as I work the espresso machine. “Do you have trouble sleeping? I noticed you shot some of your videos at night.”