“Exactly. Makes no sense.”
“I can’t rent it out yet with incomplete renovations. And at the moment, we’re still short-staffed. Having you up in the Cellar when needed is worth any lost revenue.”
“You could have squeezed something from me. I’d have paid rent.”
Cosimo took a sip of his wine, apparently deep in thought. “I should have offered it to you Monday.”
“So why didn’t you?”
He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “Because I didn’t like you.”
I laughed, his honesty refreshing. “I mean, tell it like it is, I guess.”
“The feeling is mutual, no?”
“One hundred percent,” I admitted. “You said didn’t. Do you like me now?”
“Not really.”
What a guy. I pried my gaze away from theGQmodel casually sitting in that chair with his wine and sexy glasses, his bicep flexing every time he lifted the glass to his mouth, and stared at the lake instead. As I watched the boats go by, it occurred to me, “There’s a dock here, but none at the Cellar.”
“A bone of contention between my parents and brother Marco. They always refused to put one in. Said they wanted customers to enjoy the beauty of the lake and not the business of a dock in summer.”
“Does it hurt business? That no one can come in from the lake? My friends and I toyed with the idea of a winery by boat excursion, so I know they have them.”
“Of course you did,” he muttered.
“You might not be a tourist,” I defended myself, “but I am. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to have this”—I gestured toward the view—“in our backyards.”
“Touché.” He raised his glass. “And yes, it hurts business. Marco has been pitching me hard to reconsider.”
“Will you?”
He sighed. And for the first time, I thought about the weight he carried, running this entire estate. It must be a lot of pressure, wanting to do right by your parents’ legacy. “It would be a kick in the pants to my parents. But at a time when we could use the influx of cash, Marco makes a good argument.”
We were silent for a bit. I was just about to say something nice, to thank him for the cottage, when he stood. “Are you coming up to the Cellar?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll probably head back to the rental to get my things. I also have to get in touch with my friend in the city to tell her to reroute my stuff here.”
“Feel free to finish your wine first. It’s a nice view.”
Nice? This wasn’t nice. It was world-class. But not more so than my new view of Cosimo walking down the stairs in front of me. I’d have given up half of my lip gloss collection to grab that ass just once.
At the bottom of the stairs, he lifted a hand in parting and then walked away, toward the Cellar.
Do you like me now?
Not really.
Cosimo Grado might have been smart, a savvy business owner and hot as hell, but he was also a stone-cold liar.
CHAPTERTWELVE
cosimo
“There’s my sweet boy.”
“Morning, Dorothy.” I braced for it as the door to Devine Bakery closed. I breathed in the smell of fresh-baked everything, already trying to decide what a little indulgence might cost me. Maybe an extra mile run? It would be worth it.