Page 73 of Falling for Mr. October

She’s talking about The Shirtless Chef videos. My heart pumps a little faster at this confirmation that she’s been watching them.

“Most of those were live streams I reposted.” I give her a tentative look as I hand her the finished cappuccino. “I did it one time, and a lot of people appreciated it. So I made a point of filming something whenever I was up at night. For other people with insomnia.”

I called the series the “Midnight Munchies.”

“Why do you have trouble sleeping?” she asks, propping her hip against the counter.

“Lots of reasons.”

She takes a sip of the cappuccino, humming in appreciation, but she keeps her eyes on my face. She’s clearly waiting for a real answer.

Leave it to Bianca Murphy to look no-nonsense while she’s dressed in apple pajamas.

“The thing with my ex did a number on me,” I admit. “I’m not ashamed to say so.”

“You loved her.”

She sounds less than pleased about it, and my smile spreads wider.

“Nah. I loved the idea of her, but I don’t think I knew her at all. She knew me, though. She had me down pat. That’s what was keeping me up at night.”

She scoffs. “Because she said you weren’t good for anything serious? Look at her. She just got married, and she’s already desperate to leave her husband. She’s going to break that glass house she’s in.”

“Thank you for that. She hasn’t…bothered you, has she?”

She lifts her chin, looking like a prizefighter. “No, but if she gets in touch with me, I’d love to have a chat with her.”

“And you…did you love Mr. Mayor?” I ask, needing to know. I don’t dislike many people, but I disliked that smarmy asshole the moment I laid eyes on him.

Of course, it didn’t help that I knew he’d had the woman who lived in the room next door to mine—the one whose shuddering sighs and moans rock me to sleep every night.

She sniffs. “I thought I did, but it’s like you said. I only loved the face he chose to show me. Public servant, devoted to this town and his family, yada yada yada…”

“Maybe we all wear lots of faces,” I say with a sigh. But I know as I say it that it’s not quite true. Bianca’s only ever had one face. Even though we’re playing along with the world’s fantasy that we’re a couple, she’s always herself. It’s one of the things I like best about her.

“Maybe so,” she says, taking a sip of her cappuccino. “Now, what do you say we taste-test these s’mores?”

“Do we have chocolate? I confess, I forgot about the chocolate.”

Her eyes widen. “Fuck. How could we have forgotten the chocolate? It’s the most important part. Should we get fancy chocolate?”

I think of Mr. Mayor, with his seersucker suits and his professional pastry chefs. “No way. We’re going classic with the chocolate. S’mores aren’t s’mores without those crappy, barely chocolate little candy bars.”

“Shopping trip?” she asks, grinning.

“Are you going in those?” I reach out and rub the soft fabric of her sleeve. It’s as if the world compresses around us, and suddenly I’m very aware of the inches that separate us, the heat of her skin beneath the fabric.

Those sounds I’ve heard through the wall…

She gives me a wicked smile. “I’ll keep the orchard shirt on if you wear the ‘Smut Slut’ hat.”

“Of course I’m wearing the hat. It’s my favorite accessory.”

Her gaze dips to my sweatpants, and I think of Enzo saying, She was checking out your dick.

Naturally, the thought immediately makes my dick swell.

Bianca bites her bottom lip.