Page 24

“I intend to practice,” he murmurs.

Well, hell. I might be in serious trouble.

Later, I lie with my cheek against his chest while his fingers move lazily through my hair.

"You're quiet," he murmurs.

"I'm recovering."

He chuckles. "From what?"

"Discovering I've apparently been dating the wrong men my entire adult life."

He brushes his lips across my forehead. "Then it's a good thing we found each other."

I smile and settle closer.

For the first time in years, I fall asleep beside a man without wondering whether he's going to regret having me there in the morning.

I wake to the smell of coffee. Which is unusual, considering my mornings generally begin with Murder Mittens clawing at my bedroom door like a tiny serial killer demanding breakfast. For a moment, I expect to find myself alone. Instead, Enzo appears in the doorway wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Morning, beautiful."

He crosses the room, kisses me, and hands me a mug.

"I wasn't sure how you took it."

"Cream and two sugars."

"I'll remember."

Something about that simple promise makes me ridiculously happy. He takes me into the kitchen, where enough breakfast food has been arranged to feed a football team.

"Are we expecting company?"

"No."

"Then why is there enough bacon here to send a cardiologist into early retirement?"

"I didn't know what you liked."

I look at the spread of eggs, pastries, fruit, and pancakes, then back at him. "You ordered all this because you didn't know what I liked?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"Only that you're setting the bar dangerously high for every man who comes after you."

His expression grows serious. "There won't be any men coming after me."

"Awfully confident, aren't you?"

"About some things." He slips an arm around my waist and kisses my temple before pulling out a stool for me at the kitchen island.

We eat breakfast together while I tell him about the children's reading program I'm organizing at work. He actually seems interested, asking questions about the books and how many children attend, until I happen to glance at the clock.

"Oh, shit. My cats."

Enzo laughs. "I'll have Rocco take you home."