Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(25)

“Some people probably would’ve.” His eyes scan my face, trying to figure me out. “Most would’ve at least given it some thought. Especially if they’ve always felt like a runner up when it comes to parental affection.”

Ouch.

For some reason, hearing him use those terms stings more than when I say them myself. I suck in a breath and steady my shoulders.

“I guess…” My voice is nearly inaudible. “When people I love are in trouble, I don’t need to give it any thought. I do whatever I can to help, and figure out the rest later.”

Luca’s gaze is moving across my face again, making me uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny. I drop my eyes to my plate.

“Not just great hair and high cheekbones,” he murmurs, so softly I’m sure he didn’t mean for me to hear him.

I glance up sharply. “What did you just say?”

He’s silent.

“Luca,” I prompt.

“Babe.”

“What did I say about calling me that?”

“You say a lot of shit, can’t be required to remember all of it.”

Rude!

Luca’s lips twitch. “I wasn’t insulting you, so wipe that look off your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look.”

“You’ve definitely got a look. Snotty one, too.”

I force my features into a menacing scowl and my voice into an artificially sweet tone. “Is this one preferable?”

“Hate to break it to you, but you’re pretty when you’re pissed.”

I suck in a breath.

He half-smiles as he pushes his empty plate away and leans back on his stool. “In my experience, women who look like you do, with that bouncy fuckin’ hair, and those legs that go on for miles, and that peaches ’n’ cream complexion…”

My stomach flips.

Luca shrugs. “Women like that tend to coast through life on their looks, never bothering to cultivate kindness or compassion ‘cause, frankly, they never need it. Not when every man they meet is falling over himself, just trying to get their attention. Most of the time, there’s a pretty strong correlation between attractiveness and entitlement.” His eyes flicker down to my mouth and linger there. “Glad to know you’re an exception. You care about people. Don’t know why you’re so determined not to show that side of yourself to anyone, but I gotta say… I’m looking forward to finding out.”

My mouth goes totally dry. I have no freaking clue how to respond to something like that, so I do the only thing I can do — ignore it completely and hurry on with the rest of my tale.

“Right. Well.” I cough. “Long sob story short, my finances have been a bit tight for the past few months… So much so that I’ve been working pretty much any job I can find. And, honestly, I haven’t found many. Not well paying ones, anyway, since I have no employment history. Every decent entry-level job calls for at least five years of experience, or an unpaid internship in the field.” I trace my fingertip against the silver-veined marble countertop, too embarrassed to look at him as I say the rest. “It probably won’t surprise you to hear that with a degree in fashion design from a party school, I’m not exactly qualified to do anything except shop.”

“Bullshit, babe.”

My eyes fly up to Luca’s. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He pins me with a look. “You’re qualified to do anything you set your mind to. Knew that the first minute I clapped eyes on you. You’re a force of nature, Delilah James Sinclair.”

“Did you not hear a word I said? I’m not a force of anything. The only thing I’ve been forcing lately is my fake laugh during interviews for jobs I’ll never get hired for anyway.” I groan. “Why oh why didn’t I study something useful, like accounting? I’d be a great accountant! Except for the fact that I’m sort of terrible at math.” My brows pull together. “But I could’ve studied speech pathology. Or physical therapy. Oh, or dentistry! I’m already a religious flosser, how hard could it be to make the leap to doing it professionally?”

“About eight years of school,” Luca murmurs.

“Scratch that, definitely not dentistry, the human mouth is vile,” I say immediately.

He smirks.

I groan again. “God, I’m an idiot. If I could go back and slap my eighteen-year-old self for majoring in Jell-O shots and cute fraternity brothers…”

Luca’s lips twitch.

“Forget I said that.” I drop my burning cheeks into my hands. “In fact, forget I said anything at all, about any of this. Let’s rewind to thirty minutes ago, when you thought I was a prostitute. I think I preferred that to being the pathetic poor girl lacking any viable job prospects.”

“You send out invitations to that pity party you’re throwing, or is it a solo celebration?”

I laugh, despite myself, and glance up at him. “Would you believe, I sent invitations but turnout has been pretty lackluster.”

“Assuming mine got lost in the mail then.”

“Nah, you didn’t make the cut. Very exclusive guest list.”

“Ah. Should’ve known.” His eyes get ultra-warm as they hold mine, until I’m forced to glance down at my plate just so I can breathe again. I focus on pushing my pancakes around, instead of the thousand butterflies that just burst to life inside my stomach.