LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(21)

“How have I never heard about this?” I asked. “Famous movie star choppered out of a wildlife park run amok with wild animals? That’s paparazzi gold right there.”

His eyes widened like he couldn’t believe it. “That’s the best part! No one, and I mean no one, realized who I was. And that included Oscar.”

I shook my head. “No way. Not possible.”

He lifted an eyebrow in my direction, smirking. “Oh really? You can’t think of a single situation where someone might mistake me as someone else?” He reached out and squeezed my knee playfully. “You yourself thought I was a cop.”

I squirmed under his touch. “Shut up. That was… extenuating circumstances.”

He left his hand on my knee a second longer. I swore I could feel the heat of him through my pants. And then it was gone and he was reaching for his wineglass, tipping it to his lips. I tried not to watch him swallow. Tried not to think about what the skin under the corner of his jaw would taste like.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, continue.”

It seemed to take him a moment to get his bearings. He set a pan on the stove and poured in a drizzle of olive oil before returning to prepping vegetables. He noticed that I’d already devoured the pepper he’d cut for me, so he grabbed a couple of carrots and sliced them into sticks, pushing them my way.

“Right, they deposited us at a landing pad several miles away from the wildlife center. By that time it was late afternoon and Oscar informed me we were close to his aunt Dahlia’s house and suggested we pop in for tea since we’d had to miss lunch what with being trapped on a roof during the reptile rampage.”

I stared at him while taking a bite out of one of the carrot sticks. “During the middle of your date?”

Roman nodded. His eyes twinkled merrily, and I was glad to see him so relaxed. It convinced me he truly wasn’t too put out by my unexpected appearance. And that perhaps he even liked having me here with him.

“I think I just blinked at him,” he continued, “but he must have taken it as a yes, because suddenly there we were at Aunt Dahlia’s house surrounded by at least twelve of Oscar’s extended family members including his parents. That’s where the frogging happened.”

I blinked at him, my lips pursed as I tried to hold back a laugh. “I’m assuming you don’t mean the yarn unraveling kind of frogging?” I asked.

He laughed. “I don’t know what that is, but no. Uncle Vinnie—and no, I’m not making that up—asked if I’d like some frogs to take home. Stupid me assumed they were some variation of the chocolate turtles that had been served on a platter with the tea, so I accepted politely. Um, no. Out comes a giant mason jar with three actual living frogs in it and a giant plaid bow around the top.”

“No!” I shouted.

“Oh yes. And it gets better. ‘We’re so happy you’re part of the family,’ Uncle Vinnie says. ‘Here’s your welcome frogs.’ Apparently, these are spawn of an important familial frog that—”

At this point I was laughing hard enough to snort my wine. “Welcome frogs?” I gasped.

Roman snickered and held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t make me laugh more, or I’ll never get to the part about the porcupine.”

“Porcupine?” The man had to be pulling my leg at this point. “Do you get one of those when you join the family too?” I asked.

“No. As it turns out, Oscar has a porcupine, incidentally also named Oscar, he keeps in his pocket. Which I only discovered—”

Carrot pieces shot out of my nose. I was going to have to stop eating and drinking completely if I didn’t want to choke and give him an even bigger story to tell his next date.

I grabbed a napkin and spoke, halfway hyperventilating and with tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry for interrupting, but it had to have been a hedgehog. A true porcupine would have been too big to fit in the man’s pocket.”

Roman stared at me before losing it completely and putting his hands on his knees in the middle of the kitchen.

“Is it…” I tried asking between choking breaths. “Is it his little Oscar? Like his tiny…” More sputtering as I pointed at the crotch of my pants. “Prick?”

“Prick. Stop,” Roman begged. “Stop so I can breathe.”

“No, keep going,” I squeaked. “I need to know about the porcuhog.”

Roman waved his hand in front of his face while tears streamed from his eyes. “Hold on, hold on,” he said. “Let me just get the sauce going so it can simmer first.”

He chucked onion, garlic, and the bell peppers into a pot on the stove and the room filled with the smell of deliciousness. I closed my eyes, inhaling deep. I wanted to store this memory forever: sitting on this counter, Roman with his sleeves rolled up, chopping vegetables as he talked, his laughter echoing in my ears while the buzz of wine in my veins turned everything warm. It was so easy being here, with him. Like I belonged.

It was the closest to perfection I could ever imagine life being.

A tiny voice in my head was sending off alarm bells, warning that this wasn’t my life and never would be. But I hit snooze on it. Fuck reality. Fuck tomorrow. Tonight this was my life, and I was damn well going to revel in it.

I let out a sigh.