Page 27 of Come Take Me Now

“Yeah, it’s fun. Our next project is going to be developing a new social media app. That’s all I can say about it,” Robby adds as Enzo walks away and puts the phone to his ear.

“What about you, Appa?” I ask.

“I think you could call me a retired influencer turned stay-at-home mom.”

Eek, Enzo never mentioned she was known!

“Oh, wow! Content creation always sounded fun,” I say.

“It was, but it got exhausting quickly. I much prefer the slower pace these days. Well, as slow a pace as I can have with two kids.”

I look over my shoulder to locate Enzo, and Robby clears his throat. “It was Ally,” he says, his voice now hushed.

I can practically feel my pupils dilating. “Who?”

“His assistant at the vineyard.”

“I’ve never heard of her,” I reply.

Robby shrugs. “Not much to say. Other than he doesn’t care for her much, but she’s one of our aunts’ nieces.”

Enzo paces back to the table and takes his seat across from me again, setting his phone face down hard enough to clatter. “Sorry. Just something that could have waited until tomorrow,” he mutters. I slip my foot from my sandal and brush his jean-clad ankle with it. He leans back in his chair, silently observing as always, studying me as if there’ll be a test later. And, by God, I hope there is.

Dinner is exquisite overall, but this restaurant feels like the kind of place my dad would take Clarissa to. I’m grateful, of course. Time always slows with Enzo. Or that’s just the Napa effect. But my thoughts don’t race when Enzo’s nearby. That became abundantly clear when he stood up to take that dumb call.

“Robby, I think you’re a golden retriever. Or a cinnamon roll,” I say after we finish eating. Maybe slightly boozy from all the wine.

“A spicy cinnamon roll,” Appa adds.

“I’m okay with that, but that better not be a jab at my dad bod,” Robby replies.

“I love your dad bod,” she says and giggles.

“What does that make me?” Enzo asks, swirling the last of the wine in his glass like it’s muscle memory.

I hold his gaze and bite my lip, contemplating the right descriptor for him.

“A Category five hurricane.”

Robby reaches for his water glass. “She’s not wrong,” he says under his breath.

“Hmm,” Enzo breathes.

We wrap up dinner and head outside. The air is still warm, but the sun has mostly set behind the mountains. Robby and Appa start for her car. “We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Appa says to me.

“Have fun,” I think I heard Enzo say to Robby simultaneously.

Robby smirks. “You, too.” Enzo just nods.

Butterflies flutter in me as I knew the third-date rule for sex would track. And I’m so damn grateful I took that everything shower earlier. Enzo doesn’t reply to Robby other than saying goodnight and unlocking the truck from his key fob.

“So, back to your dad’s?” Enzo asks when we get buckled in.

My face falls. “Wait, what? Not your house?” I ask.

“Not tonight,” he replies. My once hopeful heart sinks straight into my gut, and I slump against the passenger seat. “You’re buzzed, and I don’t want to rush things with you.”

“What about a nightcap?”