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As he unlocked his apartment door, Bennett shoved all this out of his tired mind. He was deluding himself into thinking any of this was possible. Someday, there would be a man in Bennett’s life, but it wouldn’t be a sexy Italian with an excellent mouth and stupendous dick.
After disabling the alarm, he tossed his bag onto the ground, half expecting to find Nico in his chair, lurking in the darkness. Except the apartment was empty. No Nico, no hint of cologne. Nothing. Just stale air and soul-crushing loneliness.
He flicked on the lights—and something across the room caught his eye. On the kitchen counter. A plate. The fuck? That hadn’t been there when he left.
Bennett walked over slowly, not sure what he was about to find. Some serial killers were known to eat meals in the homes of their victims . . .
He blinked down at the plate, unsure he was really seeing this. Arranged neatly on the plate were chocolate chip cookies, carefully covered with plastic wrap.
Cookies.
Someone left him . . . homemade chocolate chip cookies.
There could only be one person responsible, the only person who could come in without tripping the alarm. But it was impossible. Nico would never leave cookies. Would he? Why? Had he watched that interview from ages ago where Bennett admitted to loving these? That seemed insane. That video was buried in the team’s social media feed, so someone had to be searching for it—or doing a serious deep dive into Bennett’s clips.
A piece of paper peeked out from under the plate. Pulling it free, he unfolded it.
To keep up your strength.
— N
Holy shit. A grin split Bennett’s face and his insides fluttered like a teenager with their first crush. Nico Marzano left him cookies. Bennett’s favorite cookies, no less. Had Nico baked these? Bennett doubted it, but someone had made them because they weren’t store-bought.
He pulled his phone out from his pocket and wrote, I didn’t know you baked.
Nico’s response was instant.
NM: I don’t. My cousin made those.
NM: These were extra.
Bennett swiped a cookie off the plate and bit into it. Soft brown sugary goodness exploded on his tongue, the chocolate like heaven in his mouth. When was the last time he had a homemade cookie? He swallowed through a smile and picked up his phone again.
Bennett: Tell your cousin thank you. They are delicious
NM: I will tell her
Bennett: And thank you too. This is very nice.
NM: It’s nothing
It wasn’t nothing. It was a thoughtful gesture, one Bennett appreciated immensely. And he wouldn’t let Nico downplay it, either. He wrote, You like me.
NM: I like fucking you.
Bennett: Admit you like me and I’ll let you do it again.
NM: I admit nothing and you will still let me do it again.
Bennett: Maybe
Bennett: But I want to hear you say it.
NM: Do not cause trouble, Verreault.
Bennett: YOU are the troublemaker, Marzano.
NM: True, and a good reason to stop texting me.
