Page 24 of Guarded from Sabotage

“Oh, no. You’re doing great,” I reply quickly. “Really. I was just—” Ogling his arms? Imagining them wrapped around me again? “Just watching,” I finish lamely.

He sets the knife down and turns to face me. “Are you okay, Sarah? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. Just… it’s probably the heat from the pan.”

And definitely not how his T-shirt is stretched across his chest, hinting at muscles I felt when he hugged me, but wouldn’t mind seeing. And now that I’m looking at his chest, my gaze dips lower without intention, moving past his flat stomach—does he have a six-pack, I wonder—and down to his impressively muscled legs.

Oh, my gosh. What is wrong with me?

Even in the early days with Tanner, I never felt this intense attraction towards him. Tanner was cute in a buttoned-up way; clean-shaven, his hair neatly parted, usually wearing khakis and one of his dozens of polo shirts. More lean than muscly, his exercise consisted of racquetball and golf with his friends from work.

But Dante is nothing like Tanner. And I like it. I like Dante’s casual T-shirts and jeans and cargo shorts. I like that his hair always looks a bit messy, like he just rolled out of bed and ran his hand through it. I like how his brush of stubble accents his strong jaw. I like how Dante’s smile always seems genuine.

And I like his muscles. A lot.

“Do you want me to take over?” Dante asks. He rests the back of his hand on my cheek. “You do feel a bit hot. Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

“No, I’m fine.” I flash him a bright smile. “Really.” Glancing at his pile of chopped vegetables, I add, “We should probably add those in now. Then we’ll mix in the tomato sauce, the broth, and the seasonings, and let it simmer for a while.”

As the spicy aroma fills the kitchen, Dante leans over the pan and inhales deeply. His shoulder brushes mine, and a shiver zips through my body. “This already smells great,” he says. “I can’t wait to try it. And this is something you used to serve at your parents’ restaurant?”

“Yeah. It was one of the most popular dishes. And I love how easy it is to make.”

Dante’s gaze meets mine. “You met Hanna at the restaurant, right? I think that’s what you said during your toast at the wedding.”

“Right.” I smile at the memory. “It was the summer after my freshman year at college, and I was waiting tables like I had the last few years. Hanna was a new hire, and we just hit it off. You know those people you meet and it feels like you’ve known them forever? That’s how it was with Hanna.”

A thoughtful expression softens his face. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

I lift the lid off the pan and give the mixture a quick stir. “Ever since that summer, Hanna and I have been best friends. It was tough when I moved here, leaving her, but she understood.”

“Do you regret it?” Dante looks at me seriously. “Moving to Texas? After what your fiancé did… Did you think about going back to New York?”

“For a little while,” I admit. “But then I thought, I’m not going to let him impact my life anymore. I found my own place, got a better job…”

“And what about now? After all of this?” Tiny worry lines etch between his eyes. “Do you want to leave after we get all this resolved?”

Before I can second guess myself, I ask, “Would you miss me if I left?”

There’s a pause before he answers; long enough for my stomach to twist into a knot. Long enough for me to start wondering how to backtrack, to pass my question off as a joke.

Then Dante tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, letting his hand linger there. “Yes.” His gaze burns into mine. “I would definitely miss you, Sarah. Very much. And selfishly, I hope you stay.”

Oh.

Hope blossoms in my chest.

I catch his hand as he starts to pull it away, wrapping my fingers around his. “I’d miss you, too, Dante. And I don’t want to leave.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DANTE

This is a first for me.

I’ve given women gifts before, but never at the risk of making them cry.

When I buy presents for my mom and sisters, it’s usually something off their Amazon wishlist, so I know they’ll be happy with whatever I pick. On the rare occasion that I dated someone long enough for gifts to become a part of it, I stuck with safe things like flowers or candy or silly stuffed animals.

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