Page 58 of His Tesoro

“I’m sure he does,” Angelo said, giving me a knowing look.

I got started making cannoli filling while Angelo picked out some music, and I eventually drew him into a game of “would you rather.”

“Why the fuck would you rather be stuck on some alien planet than meet Bigfoot?” Angelo asked.

“I said I would only choose it if they were sexy aliens.”

“Sexy aliens?”

“Read a book, Angelo. Alien romance is very big.”

He rolled his eyes and stole another finished cannoli from the counter. Just then, the apartment door opened and I heard the sound of pattering feet before a dog popped its head around the corner. It was a beautiful golden retriever with bright eyes and a wagging tail. And he was wearing a service dog vest.

“Oh, hello.” I said as the dog walked over to me and laid its head on my lap. “Where did you come from?”

Matteo strode into the kitchen. “I see you’ve met Noodle.”

I gave Matteo a bewildered expression. “Noodle?”

“They said we couldn’t change his name,” he said, sounding put-out. “But he was the best they had. Passed all his tests.”

I looked back down at Noodle’s service dog vest. “Are you saying…” I trailed off, not wanting to speak the words out loud in case I was mistaken.

“This is your service dog.”

My lips parted. “You got me a service dog.”

Matteo crossed his arms. “Yes.”

My husband looked as stern as ever, but inside my heart was melting. “What? Why?”

“Getting a dog was on your list, and I figured you might as well get one that’s useful.”

A lump rose in my throat. I’d only known Matteo for a few weeks and he had already shown more of an interest in my needs and making my life easier than anyone in the world, besides my sister.

“Help me up,” I said, extending my arms out to him.

“What?”

“Help me get up,” I repeated.

“Why?” He grumbled, but did what I asked, lifting me from my wheelchair. My feet barely skimmed the ground and I was firmly plastered against his body.

“Because I wanted to say thank you,” I murmured. I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring how soft the strands were. His jaw was clenched tight, and if I hadn’t been observing my husband so closely these past few days, I would have thought he was angry with me.

But I knew better now.

I trailed my hands down his face before cupping his jaw and pulling him closer. Before I could second-guess myself, my lips were against his. At first, he was unmoving, a frozen statue as I kissed him. A thread of insecurity wound its way around my chest. He didn’t want to kiss me. Didn’t want me.

I went to pull away, but then he growled and pressed my back against the wall. His lips were soft and firm all at once, his tongue demanding entry into my mouth. I moaned at the taste of him, at the feel of his control and dominance. His knee slipped between my legs, pressing against my sex, and I inhaled sharply.

A cold, wet nose nudged at my leg, and I broke the kiss with a laugh. “I think Noodle is jealous.”

Matteo grumbled, but there was a lightness to his eyes. I looked around and realized that Angelo must have slipped out at some point. Matteo carried me to the couch and gently sat me down, but he remained standing. I called Noodle over and patted the cushion beside me. He wasted no time hopping up next to me and cuddling up to my side.

“Is he supposed to be on the couch?” Matteo asked, frowning.

“You’re going to say no to this face?” I squished Noodle’s cheeks between my hands and we both stared at Matteo with big, sad eyes.

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