Page 160 of Knot Like Other Girls

"You try juggling three different delivery apps with drivers who think you're going to unleash hell on them for stepping foot on your property," Troy retorts as he carefully steps into thenest. "I had to promise the Soft Spot guy an extra twenty bucks to even consider coming up here."

"You went to Soft Spot again?" Bella asks, sitting up as he unloads bags.

"Those cookies aren't going to order themselves," Troy replies, winking as he pulls out a turquoise box. "And Maggie sent a message. They have some new recipes they'd like you to try."

Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. "They're persistent."

"They're invested," Savva says, helping Troy organize the feast.

Bella doesn't seem to know what to say to that. I wish she would. Wish she'd throw us a bone. Something to make it more clear what's going through her mind right now where our futures with her as her scent matches are concerned.

From my spot, I observe as they lay out the spread. Platters of sliced meats, various cheeses, fresh bread, and Mediterranean sides. Troy arranges what can only be described as fancy junk food. Gourmet sliders, truffle fries, and honey-drizzled chicken bites. The turquoise box from Soft Spot is packed with an assortment of freshly baked cookies, and there are chocolate-covered strawberries of every flavor in the other.

"This is perfect," Bella says, clearly pleased with the variety. "Thank you, Troy."

He grins at her. "Anything for my princess."

She doesn't correct him. Doesn't tell him she isn't his princess. In fact, she seems to preen at that. Interesting.

Maybe we've got a chance after all.

"Wine?" Savva offers her, already uncorking a bottle.

"Please," she replies, reaching for a glass.

"To new beginnings," Roman proposes, raising his glass in a toast.

It's uncharacteristically sentimental coming from him, but I find myself lifting my glass along with the others.

"Fuck, that's delicious," Troy says, examining his glass with surprise. "What is this?"

"Brunello di Montalcino," Savva replies, the Italian name flowing effortlessly from his tongue. "2010 was an exceptional year."

"Of course you'd know that," I mutter, reaching for bread and brie.

"Some of us have interests beyond violence," Savva retorts mildly.

I grin at Savva as I spread some creamy brie on a thick slice of bread. "Violence pays the bills. Not all of us can be wine connoisseurs in our spare time."

"The two aren't mutually exclusive," he counters with that aristocratic tone that somehow never sounds pretentious coming from him.

Troy snorts as he tears into a slider. "Right. Because nothing says 'refined palate' like the taste of blood in your mouth."

"Speak for yourself," Savva says, his eyes narrowing. "I've never been hit in the mouth during an engagement."

"That's because you fight like a bloody ballerina," I say, earning a genuine laugh from Bella.

My heart feels like it's just grown ten sizes.

It's getting harder not to stare at her. The way she fits so perfectly into our group, how easily she banters with us. Like she's been here all along, just waiting to be found.

"Here, try this," Troy says to Bella, offering her one of the honey-drizzled chicken bites. "They're from that little place in town with the blue awning."

She takes the fork, her fingers brushing his, and I feel a ridiculous pang of jealousy at the simple contact. Get it together, Rourke. She's allowed to touch whoever she wants.

"That's incredible," she says, her voice vibrating with the beginnings of a purr.

I clear my throat, focusing intently on spreading more brie on a slice of artisan bread. That sound she just made is doing things to my self-control that I'm not ready to examine too closely.

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