favorite thing in the world, disappointing because I know without a doubt, I will never actually live in anything like I’ve seen today.
It’s our allotted lunch break. The driver is taking his and has left us at this small restaurant, for which I’m kind of glad. I need a little time to just breathe. He’s been super nice, but he’s been a little overly attentive. Not in a creepy way, I mean, Landry probably told him to make sure I was taken care of, but he’s trying really hard.
The waiter brings over the half cheese, half Canadian bacon pizza for me and Holden, along with a cup of water with a lid and straw and a regular glass of water for myself. Holden’s eyes grow to the size of saucers at the sight of the large brick oven roasted pizza.
“Mama, pizza,” he mutters.
“Yes.” I laugh softly as I take a piece and put it on his plate.
Without hesitating, I cut it up into pieces, knowing that he’ll use his fingers and he won’t be able to hold an actual slice by himself.
“Does he use a fork, too?” a deep voice rumbles behind me.
We’re sitting outside, enjoying the decently cool afternoon. It’s only about eighty-degrees and the humidity is oddly low, so we’re taking advantage. Plus, Holden likes to watch the cars and foot traffic go by.
Turning my head slowly, I tilt my head back and look up into Landry’s mirrored sunglasses. “May I join you?” he asks.
Gulping, I try not to whimper at the sight of him. I’ve never seen him in anything but work clothes, slacks, and a long-sleeved button shirt or a jacket. Sometimes he treats me by rolling his sleeves up to his forearms.
All of which looks fantastic on him, none of which are Landry Astor in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt.
Licking my lips, I snap my mouth closed and shake my head once. “He does, but not with pizza, and yes you may,” I rasp.
His chin tips slightly and I assume that he’s looking down at me from behind his glasses for a beat before he turns and heads toward the little gate that is the entrance to the restaurant patio area. I try really hard not to watch him, but I fail. I watch the way his body moves as he makes his way toward me.
Every. Single. Inch. Of. Him.
He sinks down in the chair across from me, his lips turned up into a smirk, then I watch as he shifts his attention to Holden. I halfway hold my breath, wondering how Holden will react to this man sitting with us. He isn’t really around men much, or at all. He has no grandfather, no father, and no uncles as I’m an only child.
I watch from the edge of my seat as Holden lifts his little greasy cheese hand and before I can stop him, he buries his fingers in Landry’s beard and grips him tightly.
Gasping in horror, I reach for Holden, tugging his hand off and tell him no. “We don’t touch other people like that, Holden,” I scold.
Landry clears his throat and I lift my gaze to him, no doubt a look of horror clearly on my face. To my surprise, instead of being annoyed, he lets out a low chuckle.
“Your first beard, Holden?” he asks.
Holden smiles, a little drool escaping down his chin. Then, without skipping a beat, Holden turns back to his pizza and starts shifting in his seat from side to side as he eats.
“I’m so sorry,” I exhale.
Landry doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, we watch one another, staring at each other, our gazes never breaking as we take one another in. Licking my lips, I break the staring contest and look down at my food.
“You’re more than welcome to have some. We definitely won’t eat it all,” I offer, keeping my voice low.
He dips his chin and reaches for a slice of Canadian bacon. Then, he proceeds to ask me about the houses that I viewed today. Picking my phone up off of the table, I find my notes and start to go over them with him.
The rest of the lunch is very businesslike and I find that I don’t hate it. I like the steamy looks, the little touches, the way he watches me. I more than like it, I love it. Every single part of it. As I’m finishing up telling him about the final house I looked at before lunch, he reaches