“Things are going to work out for the both of us,” Ansel reassured me. “I promise.”

“I’ll see you at the end of the month,” I said, even though we’d definitely be talking before then. We spoke almost every day, even if it was just sending silly videos to each other.

“You bet your ass you will.” I could hear his smile through the phone.

“Love you,” I whispered.

“And I love you more,” he repeated the phrase we’d uttered all our lives.

My brother’s words echoed in my ears as I placed the phone down on the counter then walked outside to where the men were still working.

“How do you guys feel about pizza for dinner?”

“I’m down!” Kip replied immediately. “I’ll eat anything but pineapple. That shit does not belong on pizza.”

I nodded. “Agree with you on that one.”

I looked at Rowan who was watching me with amusement. He was likely thinking back to his first night here, when I’d acted like ordering pizza was akin to planning a murder.

“I’m trying something new,” I told him in response to the questioning look he gave me.

He just flashed me his pearly whites. “Didn’t say a word.”

I shook my head. “Do you have any pizza preference?”

“Nope. Whatever you want, cupcake.”

A surge of desire shot through me. I didn’t know how he did it, but he was making ordering pizza somehow sexual.

I really wanted to do things to him. Wanted him to do things to me. But he was here with his best friend, building my greenhouse. So, I went inside and ordered pizza instead.

Chapter Fifteen

Recipe: Chocolate-Hazelnut Galette des Rois

From ‘Dessert Person’

Fiona ate with us. I called to invite her over for dinner, to watch the men building, and maybe because I had some matchmaking thoughts about my best friend and Rowan’s best friend.

Fiona didn’t exactly have a type, but Kip was the kind of man who appealed to everyone.

I wanted my friend to be happy. Not that she wasn’t already. Nor did she need a man to define her happiness, but in the time I’d known her, she hadn’t had a serious relationship. Despite her constant smile and her easy demeanor, there was something dark there, something chasing her. Something that she hadn’t shared with me. But I knew it was there because like knew like. I hadn’t pressed her. Wouldn’t press her. She would tell me if and when she was ready. Or she’d let it stay buried and keep trying to make a life here.

I selfishly wanted that life to be permanent.

This was the longest time she’d been in one place, her family a world away. Her visa wouldn’t last forever. Romance, a real, true love, meant roots.

But Fiona sensed my intentions once the pizza was consumed and I’d served a French chocolate tart for dessert—I was still me and couldn’t have guests without serving dessert. We’d all settled in the living room with beer and wine, music playing from my speaker system, while Maggie napped happily on the rug.