Chapter 9
Nine
Piper hadn’t slept at all last night. She’d been too busy staring at the ceiling above her bed, wondering if she’d bungled
that whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed situation. Should she have cast aside her inhibitions and strolled into Emilio’s room
and climbed into his bed at the mere suggestion? Her gut was telling her no. She wasn’t that person. She was no seductress.
She needed time.
She had a feeling her sister Gabby might have a different opinion on the matter. If they ever got around to the topic. For
now, the phone call Gabby had promised was all about the wedding.
“I’m just so sick of it. I don’t know what to do anymore,” Gabby said.
I can relate. “Yeah. Of course,” Piper replied.
“Piper!” Gabby’s voice screeched through the speaker on Piper’s phone. “Are you even listening to me?”
Piper had been listening, but she hadn’t been listening, listening. “Sorry. What were you saying? About the problem? With the, uh, the thing?”
Gabby groaned. “The thing? You mean our mother? What has gotten into you?”
Of course, the answer to that question was Emilio. Well, not that into her. Not actually inside her. She should be so freaking lucky.
No.
But after having been in his arms twice, going out to dinner, joking around about being fake boyfriend and girlfriend, then
mutually deciding not to sleep in the same bed, she no longer knew how to conduct herself. She didn’t know how to dress or
speak or what to do with her hands anymore. Or her eyes. They kept drifting to him and staying. Pondering questions like what
it would be like to touch him. Kiss him.
There was entirely too much inner conflict residing in her body. On a most basic level, she wanted to kiss Emilio. She wanted
to spread her hands across that perfect chest of his and comb her fingers into his epic hair. Before the leash-wrapped embrace,
she hadn’t realized how starved she’d been for male human contact. It was like she’d been roaming a desert, desperate for
water, and someone turned up with a carafe of perfectly chilled mountain spring water, an umbrella and a chaise longue. Emilio
was the spring water. And the little voice in her head said she shouldn’t have so much as a sip. He was Emilio Baquero, one
of the sexiest men on the planet, and she was an ordinary person, a dog walker from Florida. That was an equation that didn’t
add up. Even if she closed her eyes and tried very hard to imagine it, she could only imagine the moment when she puckered
up . . . then her mind went blank.
“Of course. Mom,” Piper replied. “She can be a headache. I get it. But she means well.”
Gabby sighed dramatically. “You’re right. You understand what I’m going through.”
“Of course I do.” Piper decided to double down. “She’s second-guessing every choice you’ve made. And you’re already doing
that yourself. What you really need is reassurance everything will be fine.”
“Yes,” Gabby said emphatically. “Exactly. Thank you. You get it.”
It had been a safe guess. “She did that to me, too. When I was planning . . . you know. My wedding.”
“I really wish you were here. Meghan has no clue since she and Mike got married at the courthouse. Plus, she’s been no help.
She’s been so tired lately.”
“You know how she gets at the end of the school year.” Piper was desperate for a change of subject. “You got me caught up
on Mom. How’s dad doing?”
“He misses you. He talks about you all the time.”
“He does?” Piper was surprised. “We text a little, but I feel like he’s not very chatty.”
“He doesn’t want to bother you. He knows you’re living this big, exciting life right now and he doesn’t want to intrude.”
Big, exciting life. It was true she was living in a new and wholly unfamiliar world, and as much as she’d felt out of place at first, she felt
more comfortable. “I’ll be home soon enough.” Piper offered it as consolation, but she was torn about her return. Despite
the never-ending physical torment that was proximity to Emilio, she was enjoying his company more since the race at Imola.
She’d learned he could be funny and sweet when he wanted to be.
She wandered over to the window in her room. It was overcast again. She was apparently spoiled now because she missed the
Italian sun as much as she’d missed the Florida rays. Luckily, they were leaving for Spain tomorrow. She’d get her dose of
warmth and brightness then.
“Did you do the thing I told you to do? With your lady bits?” Gabby asked.
“No. I don’t have the nerve.”
“Just go for it.”
“I’m not you, okay? I don’t have that kind of confidence. It takes time for me to get close to someone.”
Just then, Piper heard a quiet knock at her door, which she’d left open. She turned to see Emilio in the doorway, looking
confused but also sexy, dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his
tanned and muscled forearms. “I have a question,” he whispered.
Piper swallowed hard, feeling frozen. “Gabs. I need to go.”
“Is that him?”
Piper glanced over at Emilio, who was now leaning against the door frame. Her face flushed with white-hot heat. “Gotta run.
Love you.”
“Don’t hang up on me. What is going on?”
“Nothing, okay? I have to go.”
“Fine. Love you, too.”
Piper ended the call and tucked her phone into her back pocket. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt your call. I’m just having a hard time finding a few things in the kitchen.”
“No worries. I’m here to help.” She breezed past him, trying to ignore the zip of electricity that hit her every time they
got close. Gus followed them down the stairs, a cacophony of paws on the treads.
“When you said you rearranged the kitchen, you weren’t kidding.”
“I couldn’t bake dog treats the way you had it organized.” Piper strolled into the kitchen. “What are you looking for?”
“The cast-iron pan.”
Piper opened one of the lower cabinets, then reached all the way into the back to pull out the skillet. “Here you go.”
“Why did you have to hide it from me?”
Piper noted a distinct level of grumpiness from Emilio. She didn’t like its return. “By the looks of that pan, you’ve only
used it three or four times. If you don’t use something often, it doesn’t need to be as accessible.”
“Maybe it looks new because I’m very good at cleaning it.”
“Nobody is that good at cleaning a cast-iron pan.”
He shook his head and pulled a plate of chicken thighs from the refrigerator, then generously sprinkled them with salt and
ground pepper. Next came a healthy pour of olive oil into the pan before he turned on the flame.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“Arroz con pollo.”
“Your grandmother taught you to make this, right? You talked about it on Mia’s podcast.”
“Yes. It’s the same recipe she learned from her grandmother.” He added chopped onion, garlic, and peppers to the pan as soon
as the oil was hot.
“That’s amazing you have that kind of tradition in your family. My parents are such meat-and-potatoes people. I can’t imagine
them teaching me to make something so gourmet.”
“This is everyday food in Spain.” He stirred the contents of the pan so masterfully, Piper was mesmerized. His hands were
pure magic. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said, peering down into the pan.
“It’s just my sister. The one who’s getting married.”
“It sounded stressful.” He cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?”
She blew out a sigh of relief. That question told her grumpy Emilio hadn’t returned. “It was. Everything about her wedding
is stressful. But it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
He remained focused on cooking. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Xander and Mia are going to be here soon. This is not a short story.”
“I’d appreciate some company while I cook. And it’s no fun to cook in silence.” He turned and smiled at her then—just half
a grin, his eyes dark and warm and inviting. It was like he was asking her to share, all with a look. “I remember you saying
you weren’t looking forward to the wedding.”
She couldn’t believe he remembered. Or that he cared. And because he’d done both of those things, she was eager to offer an
answer. “More like dreading it. I have been, pretty much from the moment I was asked to be maid of honor. And if we’re going
to talk about this, I’m going to need wine.”
“Coming right up.” Emilio reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle. He made quick work of the cork and filled two glasses.
“Albarino. From Spain. Of course.”
Piper took a sip—it was crisp and lightly sweet with a dry finish. Why did everything she encountered from Spain have to be
so perfect? “Wow. Delicious.”
“I agree.” He added the chicken to the pan and began browning it. “You were saying? About the wedding?”
Piper took one more sip for courage. “So, my sister Gabby and her fiancé, Lucas? Guess how they met each other.”
“No idea.”
“They were set up by me and Kyle, my ex. He’s been Lucas’s best friend since they were little. I met Lucas and thought he’d
be perfect for Gabby. So we made the introduction, they fell in love and Kyle broke off our engagement.”
Emilio set down his glass and looked right at her. “You’re kidding.”
“That’s not even the worst part. Kyle is Lucas’s best man, and since I’m maid of honor, that basically means if you look up
painfully awkward in the dictionary, there’ll be a picture of me in a bridesmaid’s dress.”
“How could your sister do that to you?”
“The dress? Or the other part?” Piper had to make a joke. Otherwise, she might cry.
“Very funny. The other part.”
Piper shrugged. “It’s not her fault. It’s a terrible set of circumstances.”
“I don’t know. This seems especially cruel,” Emilio said, speaking the one thought into existence that had been coiled tightly
in Piper’s head for months.
Still, Piper felt the need to fully explain. She wasn’t a victim. “In my sister’s defense, she gave me an out. She told me
I didn’t have to accept her invitation to be maid of honor.”