Chapter 18
Paige
The fresh earthy smells of basil and mushroom waft through the air and if I didn’t know where to find Sam and Mom, I’d follow my nose. Padding barefoot toward the kitchen, I smile happily.
Mom and Sam are busy laying out small bowls along the countertop filled with toppings for our homemade pizzas, a family tradition started by Sam. It’s been a while since we’ve done this, and I’ve missed it.
It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since I left Toronto and I’m glad I came.
At first, it was a bit bumpy with their many questions about my landlord, my lawyer, and Zach.
But once I reassured them that everything was under control and I even added Drew into our conversation via video, they settled down.
Sharing with them news of my self-defense classes also helped. I never wanted to feel as helpless as I did every time Joel Hummel came into my home. Walker had been the one to tell me of a really good instructor and Morgan was more than willing to come with me.
All in all, being with my parents and away from billionaires, creepy landlords, and everything else, I’m feeling settled and more like myself.
“Yes! Pizza. Do you have artichokes?” I pop a black olive into my mouth and savor the salty flavor.
Leaving Zach the way I did wasn’t my finest moment. I could have handled it better. I like him, and in a short time he has become a friend of sorts and dangerously close to becoming someone I could count on. And that’s why I had to leave.
“How can you even ask?” Sam feigns mock insult. “Paiges, I’ve got your back.”
I laugh, loving his pet name for me, and give him a side hug. “Of course you do. Thank you.”
When I first met Sam, I was sixteen and clueless about the culinary delights of the world. He introduced me to my first artichoke, among many other things. Totally taken with him—my mom’s new and very attractive boyfriend—I pretty much did or tried anything he suggested.
In fact, that first time we made pizzas, I picked every topping he did whether I’d ever tried it or not. He could have sprinkled the pies with manure and I would have said “yes, please.”
“I think we have everything.” Mom surveys the array of little bowls brimming with all kinds of toppings.
I stand in front of one of the three pizza stones, ready. Mom hands me a glass of wine and at the same time there’s a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Sam says. “You get started. Livvy, you know what I like.”
Needing no further encouragement, I lick my lips at the white doughy goodness and spread the vibrant sauce in a circular motion. Grabbing a handful of cheese, I sprinkle it onto the tomato-red canvas as Sam enters the kitchen.
“Look who’s here.”
Absently, I lift my head, preparing to get back to my task, but freeze at the sight of Zach standing next to Sam. A small leather bag is firmly in one hand and he meets my surprise with a devilishly sexy grin.
“Hello.” His voice is tender and inviting.
No surprise, he’s well-dressed and stylish in a custom charcoal suit that he’s probably been in for more than ten hours, but somehow manages to look as if he only just put it on.
My legs wobble and with a thunk, I drop the metal spoon filled with tomato sauce back into the bowl, hardly comprehending what I’m seeing. “Zach? What are you doing here?”
“Honey, is that any way to greet him?” Mom wipes her hands on a towel while advancing on Zach. “I’m Olivia, Paige’s mother. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Olivia. I’m Zach and it’s great to finally meet you, too.” He looks from Mom to Sam. “Thank you for having me in your home.”
“Any time.” Sam pats him on the shoulder and saunters over to a large bowl resting on the counter, covered with a damp cloth.
Inside, there’s likely a couple more balls of dough and sure enough, he takes one out, dusting the counter with flour, and rolls out another pizza crust for our surprise guest. My would-be boyfriend now stands next to me. He’s going to kiss me. But will it be a peck on the cheek or on the lips?
The memory of our last kiss slams into my body like a lightning bolt. That kiss was electric and wild.
Leaning in, he cups my cheeks and plants a soft, warm kiss on my mouth and even with closed mouths, a thrill runs through me, piling on to my already hazy state.
I stand speechless while Mom beams, fussing over Zach and making room for him at the counter.
All the while, he steals sideways glances at me.
I’ve got nothing.
My lips tingle.
I’m dazed.
Mom peppers him with questions about what he likes on his pizza, how was the drive from Toronto—only he didn’t drive like us mere mortals, or even take the train, he flew in his private jet. What the hell?—and through it all, I stare dumbly at them, still at a complete loss for words.
“Paige, why don’t you get Zach a glass of wine?” she asks. “You like chianti, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’d like some water right now.” He drops his hand on top of mine. “I’ll get it, just point me in the direction.”
Ocean-blue eyes bore into me and I struggle to get the synapses of my brain firing again. If only I could form a cohesive sentence. His intimate gaze causes a strange fluttering in my stomach.
“Here you go.” Sam plunks a bottle of water down beside him.
“Thanks.” Zach takes a long swig from the bottle and my mom smiles at me, her eyes shimmering in delight. “This looks great. Homemade pizza.”
“Yes. And here’s yours.” Mom places the stone in front of him. “Hmmm. You can’t fix your pizza in a suit. Do you want to change? Oh, or I could get you an apron.”
She turns on her heel and he grabs her elbow lightly, halting her crusade for something to save his expensive Savile Row attire.
“Olivia, don’t go to any trouble. I’m fine in my suit.” His shoulder presses into my arm and he leans in conspiratorially. So close his expensive cologne hits my nostrils. “Or nothing at all.”
His lips graze the shell of my ear and his warm breath tickles the column of my neck. I shiver and squeeze my thighs together, trying to quell the burning need within.
What has gotten into him? He’s all Mr. Flirty. It isn’t like Zach can’t be charming and flirtatious. He can—I’ve seen it and even been on the receiving end. But this is blatant.
And then I get it.
He’s my boyfriend. For the benefit of my parents he’s playing the part and doing a bang-up job. So much so, my mother is blushing and swooning at our heads only inches apart.
“Oh, let me get a picture. Stay like that.” Mom snatches her phone from the island. Sam stands behind her making funny faces and Zach takes me in his arms like it’s where I belong.
The excitement of his arrival finally wanes, and things settle down. He washes his hands, ready to make his pizza, and returns to my side with his shirt sleeves now rolled up to his elbow.
Strong muscled forearms flex and ripple while he dresses his pie and I stare, licking my lips. I’m unable to swallow with the sudden dryness in my mouth. Until now, I never had a thing for arms. But Zach’s…
Taut, corded, and veined.
Arm porn.
Damn.
The vision I feast on is jilling off material.
Biting my lip, I pinch my eyes shut and will myself to look elsewhere when I open again. The struggle is real.
“Hey, you okay?” Zach asks, his voice almost a whisper. “You need help with your pizza?”
My gaze snaps to his face, refusing to look down at the counter and his arms. “Um, I usually do whatever Sam does,” I blurt out, sounding like a child, or worse, a brainless wonder.
“What?”
“Ah, what I mean is, I trust Sam’s choices. So I wait to see what he has going on before doing mine.”
It’s not completely true, only a partial lie. I used to do just that. Now I’ve got my favorites based on years of trying out various combinations. But none of that matters given I haven’t done a good job of explaining myself and he’s looking at me like I’m hopeless.
“You’ve got a thing for Sam?” His head is cocked to the side and his voice is now barely a whisper.
Yet Sam must have overheard us because he starts to laugh and we both turn to see Mom and my stepdad, whom I also consider a true friend, watching us with sheer amusement written all over their faces. Great.
“Boy, does she ever.” Mom shuts the oven door, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “Well, I should say, she used to. Now I’d say they’re more partners in crime. Thick as thieves.”
Sam wraps his arms around my mother’s waist, perching his chin on her shoulder and nodding. “We get each other.”
I blush despite myself, remembering the teenager that I was, crushing on Samson Beaulieu. He’s a good-looking man, so kind and loving, and very much a father figure to me even though I have my own dad. We all got lucky when he came into my mother’s life.
“That we do,” I finally pipe up, handing Zach’s pizza stone to my mother. “But I no longer crush on him. Those days are over. Now it’s just deep admiration.”
“I see.” Zach eyes us warily as if trying to figure us out.
When the pizzas are ready, we gather around the kitchen table to eat, laugh, and carry on as if Zach has always been a part of the family.
It’s gratifying and helps ease the prickly edginess poking at me since his arrival.
His natural comfort with my family, and theirs with him, is also a little unnerving.
“So, Zach, if I’m not mistaken, Drew introduced you to Paige, correct?” My mother is playing coy. She knows all this.
He nods, chewing the last of his pizza. “Yes, Paige needed some legal advice.” He’s measured in his response, perhaps not wanting to bring up my landlord.
“Yes, with her horrible landlord.” Mom stacks the plates. “But you aren’t a lawyer. You’re in real estate, right?”
“Uh-huh.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “But I have lawyers that specialize in real estate and with Drew in New York, he asked me to help out. So I did what I could but if you ask me, I got the better end of this deal.”