Boyfriend for Hire(28)

In fact, his whole apartment is anything but the bachelor pad I would have guessed it to be. Nic has taken the time to hang art on the walls and his furniture actually goes together, unlike most guys I know who just throw a random assortment of couches into a room. He even has a few houseplants. He’s either more of a homemaker than I thought, or he found a really good decorator. I’d think the latter, but somehow I know this is all Nic’s doing.

My thoughts are interrupted by the terrace door sliding open. A few seconds later, Nic walks out holding two plates of pasta. He sets one down in front of me, and I breathe in the smell.

“It’s gnocchi with a wild boar ragout,” he says, settling into his seat.

“Wild boar?” I raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t even know you could get that around here.”

“I know a guy.” He smirks.

I grin before taking my first bite. My eyes widen as I chew.

“Mmm,” I say after swallowing, and look at Nic in shock. “You made this? It’s so good. Is this homemade gnocchi?”

“Of course.” He laughs. “You think a true Italian like me would serve you that packaged stuff? You deserve better than that.”

I take another bite, trying to hold back a groan. It’s so good, it’s like an orgasm in my mouth. As I watch Nic take a bite, his strong jaw flexing as he chews, I can only hope it’s not the only orgasm I’ll be experiencing tonight.

“So, you figured I’m the kind of guy who orders takeout and tries to pass it off as his own cooking?” he asks, smirking.

“That’s what every other guy I’ve dated has done. So, yeah, pretty much.” I laugh. “How did you learn to make this?”

“I’ve always loved cooking,” he says after taking a sip of his water. “My grandmother loved to cook and so does my mother, and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with them when I was younger.”

“Are you really Italian?” I ask.

He nods. “My name is actually Nicco, but no one calls me that except for my mother.”

Once again, I’m blown away by Nic. Everything about this date is so romantic—the candlelight, the city views, and the amazing food. And not to mention Nic himself, who looks about as good as his pasta tastes.

His dark, messy hair is blowing gently in the breeze. His biceps flex as he runs a hand through his hair, and I bite my lip. I can tell he hits the gym more than the average guy, and I can’t stop myself from imagining him putting those muscles to use in the bedroom. An image of him lifting me up against a wall during a hot make-out session flashes through my mind, and I feel my face heat up.

“Have you told Christine that we’ve been hanging out?” he asks, bringing me back to reality. He says it casually, but I sense something urgent in his tone.

“I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to her,” I say, then swallow. “Mostly just about the wedding and her honeymoon.”

I hate lying, but I’m definitely not going to tell him what she said about him. Or that she’s been practically begging me to stop seeing him.

“Makes sense.” He smiles and nods, seeming relieved.

I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something those two aren’t telling me, but I try to forget about it. I’m probably just paranoid because of everything Christine has said about him.

“So, what do you do in your free time? Besides cook gourmet meals and put together romantic dinners.” I smile, wanting him to go along with changing the subject. The less we talk about Christine, the better, in my opinion. I don’t need the reminder of her warnings about Nic ruining an otherwise perfect evening.

He laughs. “I love spending time outdoors, camping and hiking. I haven’t traveled much, but I want to. We could never afford it growing up, and now that I actually have money, I don’t have the time.”

“I would love to travel more. I wanted to study abroad in college, but I chickened out.”

“So, you’ve never been out of the country either?” he asks.

I shake my head. “If you could leave right now, where would you go?”

“I definitely would love to visit Italy. My family is from Florence, and I’ve always wanted to do a backpacking trip through Europe.” He laughs. “But I might be too old for that now.”

“No way, you’re never too old to travel,” I say, taking another bite of gnocchi. “That sounds perfect to me.”

“Should we make another pact?” He gives me a playful smile. “That we’ll travel to Europe within the next year?”

I grin back. “Let’s do it.”

The thought of sipping wine in a vineyard in Italy or lying on a beach in the south of France with Nic is way too tempting. The idea of Nic in a bathing suit alone is making me feel hot and bothered.

It’s so easy to picture a future with him, and I hope I’m not getting ahead of myself. I’m always so careful with my feelings, and suddenly with Nic, I’m throwing caution to the wind. I just hope our connection is as real as I think it is.

As we finish the last of our food, a cool fall breeze blows by, making me shiver.

“Should we head inside? It gets a little breezy up here,” Nic says, standing to clear our plates.

I follow him back inside, where he gestures for me to sit on the couch as he takes our plates into the kitchen. When he comes back, he’s holding two plates of dessert.