Page 65 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“Then I guess I’d better feed you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Let me cook for you one more time before we go back to reality.”
Reality. Where she had rules and I had boundaries, and we pretended this was just an arrangement between two consenting adults.
She nodded, understanding what I wasn’t saying. “What are you going to make?”
“Real Italian breakfast. Espresso, fresh herbs from the garden, maybe some bruschetta.”
“Idon’t know how to make espresso.”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
“Wait, let me shower first.” She turned her head and stuffed her nose in my shoulder. “You smell like soap.”
I chuckled. “I showered already.”
“Cheater.”
“I would never cheat on you.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“I—” her mouth opened but her thoughts couldn’t catch up with her words. “You know what I meant.”
“You called me a cheater. I don’t cheat in anything in life, and especially not with a woman I adore.”
Heat rushed her cheeks as her brown skin darkened there.
“I apologize if I offended you.”
I smiled. “You didn’t.” I pinched her chin. “But I’m glad you brought it up, so you’ll know better next time.”
Her eyes lowered on me, almost a squint but not quite. I waited for a feisty rebuttal, but none came.
“I’ll be back.”
And she was gone, disappearing like a ghost as if my words haunted her.
In the kitchen, I pulled out the moka pot—a simple aluminum contraption that every Italian household owned. Naomi watched from the counter, wrapped in my shirt from yesterday.
“You put my shirt back on.”
“I did.”
“I expected you to come down primped and ready to take on the globe.”
Her browns dipped and she looked affright. “My God, should I have? We’re still on a short vacation, aren’t we?”
“We absolutely are and no, you shouldn’t have. I just assumed you would.”
“Because I usually am?”
“Precisely.”
