“Relax. I’m better at not being seen than you are.” He picks up another jar, pretends to read it. “Sunglasses inside a grocery store? Really? That’s your disguise?”
My face heats. “It’s fine. No one’s noticed.”
“I noticed. In about three seconds.” He sets the jar down. Those caramel eyes find mine, lighter than Dario’s, warmer, but with something sharp underneath. “You broke into his house.”
My stomach cannonballs into my pelvis. Fuck. Fuck.
“How did you?”
“Cameras.” He’s trying not to smile and failing. “Also you left cookies. In his kitchen. With a note. And.” He pauses for effect. “You moved stuff in his closet.”
Oh God. Oh no.
The jacket. The jacket I hung up wrong because I was panicking.
“I didn’t.” Wait, cameras?
“Dario’s very particular about his closet.” Enzo leans against the shelf, arms crossed, looking like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Took him about ten seconds to figure out someone had been trying on his clothes.”
I want to dissolve into the linoleum.
“The door was unlocked,” I say weakly.
“So you just... wandered inside?” His grin widens. “Totally normal behavior. Very stable.”
God, Enzo smiling could make angels drop to their knees.
“I was going to leave the cookies on the porch but.”
“But you couldn’t help yourself.” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a particularly interesting species of disaster. “Did you take anything?”
Did I take anything? Just a little keepsake. A minor felony. Just his tie, which I’ve now worn more often than any bra I own.
“No,” I lie.
“Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Your left eye twitches when you lie. Did it just now.” He pushes off the shelf. Steps closer. “What’d you take?”
Would it be weird to say “break me open like a bag of flour and rearrange my organs between the penne and the rigatoni”?
“Nothing that’ll hold up in court.”
“Stevie.”
Umm yes, Enzo. Say my name again.
“A tie. Maybe. Hypothetically.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
He’s close now. Close enough that I can smell him, leather, spiced, completely different from Dario’s cedar cologne.
Close enough that my brain unhelpfully supplies: He hurts people for a living. He’s probably killed people. Why is that hot? Why is this hot?
