“A lot of people work hard,” I retorted instantly. It came out harsher than I meant it to be, but it was not less true. “I’m not even trying to be contrary.” He gave me a “sure you’re not” look. “I’m serious. My mother has worked fourteen-hour days, six days a week practically from the moment we got off the plane from the DR and no one has ever pampered her. What makes me so damn special?” His nostrils flared like it made him mad it was even a question. He waited so long to say something I thought he would just let it go. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what he actually said.

“You get it because I want to give it to you.” I wished that I didn’t react to the fierceness in his voice as much as I did. My body ached to get closer to him. “There’s not a single thing I’d rather be doing than watch you eat that sandwich while you tell me about this adorable towel thing you made for Rocco’s niece.”

“It’s a throw blanket,” I corrected him, like it mattered, and he smiled at me with that expression I recognized as “What am I going to do with you?” face.

He nodded and took my hand, his thumb making circles on the cramped muscles there. “The throw blanket you rushed here to finish even though you’re swamped and overwhelmed. I don’t give a fuck about special, Alba. You deserve to be pampered because I say you do.”

“Theo.” I pressed my forehead to his, shaking my head as I tried to push down all the yeses trying to come out of me. “You’re so fucking bossy,” I relented, making him laugh.

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a set of sketches that were on the table next to the sewing machine.

“It’s for the pitch for Smithson-Napa,” I told him, and he hiked up an eyebrow in surprise.

“You’ve got this much done already? I thought they only approached you this afternoon?” He ran a finger over my rom-com designs like they had to be magic to even be on the table only hours after I’d been asked to make them.

“Please, Theo,” I scoffed, as a little ember of pride burned in my chest at his obvious admiration. “You should know by now that I’ve had these ready just in case an opportunity came along.”

His lips tipped up and he turned those gorgeous gray eyes on me. “Oh, I know there isn’t a Girl Scout more ready than you.” I knew he was teasing, but that sexy-ass grin still turned me on. It was hopeless—if Theo was around everything else paled in comparison.

“So the idea is that you’ll do a line for different kinds of books?”