10
Luca
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darla check out my ass as I loaded the dog into the car, and I wasn’t saying that to brag. Okay, maybe I was, but I didn’t do two hundred squats every day for nothing. Or a hundred push-ups. Or fifty chin-ups. And women dug the glutes even more than the six-pack.
But when I straightened, Brooke’s boss had disappeared inside, and Paulo had taken her place. He checked out everything. Then licked his lips.
“Do you want some cake? There’s plenty left.”
“The cake Brooke made?”
“Yes, although it’s not so much a cake now as a dessert. It had a tiny accident, so we added strawberries and called it Baldwin’s mess. You know, like Eton mess?”
“Like what?”
“Eton mess. It’s a dessert they eat in England. Smashed-up meringues, strawberries, and cream.”
