He saw a hint of the bruising edging out of the top of her scarf, and he clenched his hands into fists on his hips. He was used to the rage, used to pushing it down.

“Hi, Gloria. How’s it going?” How’s it going? She was recovering from a public physical assault, dumbass. How did he think it was going?

She glanced down at her pink toenails and then back up at him. Aldo could have stood there all day taking her in. But the blonde next to her cleared her throat.

“You must be Aldo because Gloria called you that,” she said, extending her hand.

With great determination, Aldo dragged his gaze from Gloria’s pretty face. “And you must be the famous Harper.” He shook her hand. “Thought I’d stop by while my best friend is out of town to see why he forgot to mention that he has a live-in girlfriend.”

“And make sure I’m not some kind of psychopath?”

Aldo blinked. Touché, potential psychopath. Touché.

Aldo hefted a shoulder. “You know the saying: Bros don’t let other bros date psychos.”

Gloria gave a soft laugh, and Aldo felt himself grow ten feet tall.

“I’m actually not familiar with that one. Is there some kind of test I have to take?” Harper joked.

But Aldo couldn’t stop staring at Gloria. His gaze roamed her face, memorizing every detail. He hadn’t been this close to her—close enough to touch her—in years. And the reason for that was behind bars.

With Herculean effort, he returned his attention to Harper. “Why don’t I give you the test at dinner? Monday. Here. I’ll grill burgers and dogs,” he suggested, already plotting.

“Gloria, I feel like I should confirm that this gentleman actually is a friend of Luke’s before I agree to let him cook dinner in Luke’s house,” Harper said gamely.

Gloria nodded, her dark hair falling over her forehead. “He is.”

“Since elementary school,” Aldo supplied, still looking at Gloria.

“Good enough for me. Seven here okay for you, Gloria?”

Aldo would have kissed Harper on the mouth if it wouldn’t have messed up his long game with Gloria.

He saw Gloria hesitate. Saw her questioning herself, and he moved an inch closer to her, slapping on his most flirtatious smile. “Please tell me you’ll bring your apple pie.”

He took a breath and went for it, taking one of Gloria’s slim hands in his. He was touching her. Finally. He stared down at her long fingers and ran his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles. Goose bumps sprang up on her bare arms. He didn’t know what was more powerful, her reaction to him or the thrum of his blood in his veins. “I’ll be your slave for life,” he promised.