Page 77 of Love Arranged
Don’t you dare embarrass yourself like that.
Frustrated by my lack of control, I remind myself of how Lorenzo hurt me and why I can’t get caught up in the moment. Not even for a single second.
I look over my shoulder to check out the group ofwomen. Josefina has invited them over to her house a few times for a romance reading club, so I recognize them, although they look different without their eyes glued to their paperbacks.
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” Lorenzo says loudly, making them giggle.
I stand up and turn so our chests are touching.
“No need to apologize, baby.” My voice has a huskiness to it that I don’t recognize.
Based on the way his nostrils flare, Lorenzo either loves or hates the sexy rasp as much as his nickname.
I brush my hand down his chest. “But next time don’t hold back. I promise I can take it.”
And that right there is how I helped Lorenzo secure the Smut Club readers’ vote.
Little by little, as our pile of strawberries in the back of Lorenzo’s truck grows, my mom gets more comfortable in his presence, to the point of inviting him back to our house to make someagua frescaonce she is too hot to continue.
Her invitation was not part of the plan, and I’m instantly anxious at the prospect of Lorenzo hanging out in our home. It has nothing to do with the house itself but rather how I feel having him in my space.
Going out on dates with Lorenzo is one thing, but having him in my chaotic little sanctuary feels like a step too far.
“Oh, I’m sure Lorenzo is busy,” I answer for him.
“I took the day off,remember?” he says aloud, acting like we memorize each other’s schedules.
“That settles it, then,” my mom says with a smile, and we head back to the house in separate cars.
My mom spends the first five minutes of the house tour in the garage, showing off my latest pressed-petal art. Lorenzo keeps a straight face while my mom tells him about how proud he must be of me wanting to pursue my own business venture with the Pressed Petal, all while shooting me looks.
“Any new updates on that since last week?” He is so damn smooth with his delivery that my mom doesn’t think anything of the question.
“Nope. Everything’s still on hold.” I keep my answer vague, and thankfully my mom doesn’t bring up Lavender Lane and the mayor’s plan, although she is quick to shuffle us into the kitchen after.
She and Lorenzo work in comfortable silence while I pull out my sketchbook and get to work on a design I’ve fallen behind on. My mom’s favorite telenovela plays in the background, and Lorenzo—who seemed completely uninterested at the start of the episode—has been equally invested in finding out who the bad guy is.
My mom has taken a liking to him, although I can’t expect her to be as comfortable around him as she is with Julian or Rafa, whom she has known since they were little. The way she is with Lorenzo is different, but then again, so is he.
He’s patient, polite, and intent on helping my mom with whatever she needs in the kitchen. My mom gives him a few tasks, including washing the buckets’ worth of strawberries,and Lorenzo does it without a single complaint, following every request with a“Sì, signora”that makes me giggle.
“Your dad used to say that too.”
I gape. Lorenzo blinks.
“You knew Lorenzo’s dad?” I ask my mom because Lorenzo looks incapable of speaking.
My mom looks cautious all of a sudden. “I didn’t know him too well, but I never forgot his flower order.”
I can’t resist asking, “What was it?”
“Whatever’s in season?—”
“So long as it’s pink,” I say at the same time as her, my eyes wide from recognition.
My mom laughs. “How’d you know?”
Because I’ve heard that phrase before, back when Lorenzo first started ordering bouquets from Rose & Thorn.
