“Heleft that for you.”
I flip open the box and my heart stutters. I don’t have to guess who she meant by he when I see the slice of pie. Black raspberry pie.
“He left some gelato too. It’s in the freezer.”
Of course it is. Of course he freaking remembers my birthday. When I open the freezer, I see the pint of gelato with three words written on the lid.
Happy birthday Shadow
I groan and set the desserts on the counter.
“Come on. Since you let him leave this, you’re going to help me eat it.”
She comes over and pulls up a stool. I grab two spoons and a spare plate for her.
“You’re actually going to eat it this time?” She props herself up on her elbows and casts me a knowing look. Somehow, he figured out when my birthday was last year and did the same thing. I’m pretty sure it was Monica that spilled the beans to him, so I ignore her and take a bite of the pie. I fight back a moan when the flavors overwhelm me.
Buttery, flakey crust dusted with cane sugar. Black raspberry filling so rich it tastes like I just picked them myself. And pistachio gelato, with coffee shavings and honey swirls, so smooth and creamy, that I would be OK living on just that for the rest of my life.
Damnit. I hate that he’s so good at this. Ignoring him would be easier if he wasn’t.
I take another bite, this time remembering the taste of him.
CHAPTER 4
SUTTON
Two Years Earlier
I look into her eyes,admiring the cool gray color. They remind me of looking out into the misty fog that would creep over the pond at the top of the trail I used to hike up some mornings back in high school in New Mexico. That striking color is only highlighted more by her smokey makeup and long, dark lashes. I know if I keep staring, I’ll get lost in them.
The only thing that can lure me away from the pull of her eyes is—well—everything else about her. Her shoulder length, straight, black hair and bangs frame her face, which is a stark contrast to her pale complexion. The v-neck she’s wearing is cut just low enough that I can see the lines of a tattoo between her small, perky breasts and the edges of a black lace bra.
She hums, tapping one of her deep purple nails to her lower lip. I swallow, trying not to give away that I desperately want to know what those lips taste like.
She scrunches her upturned nose, eyeing me with suspicion. The little motion draws my eyes to the hoop piercing in her nostril and her septum ring. I’ve never cared much about piercings, but I’m suddenly very interested in hers.
I mimic the expression, prompting her to roll her eyes and groan in exasperation.
“Sour cream and onion. Your turn. You owe me an answer.”
I laugh. “Fine. My favorite potato chip flavor is paprika. Favorite sandwich?”
She grins. “PB and J on cheap, white bread. You?”
I hum in thought. “That’s a classic. I think I’d have the same thing, but add a drizzle of honey to it.”
She nods in approval and I continue my food interrogation. “What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Easy. Ice cream. What’s yours?”
“Woah. I feel like you cheated with that one,” I scoff, taking a swig of my beer. “There are so many choices. You have to pick a flavor.”
“Fine. Pistachio.”
I purse my lips together and nod. “OK. That’s a good one. My favorite dessert is black raspberry pie. My grandma made it all the time when I was growing up.”
Her eyes drop to my arm and I know she’s looking at the slice of pie inked on me. “Is her name Gloria?”