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Marco wasdonedodging pomegranates.

“Fine,” Marco said, extending a hand, and Andrew took it, shaking on the deal.

“I’ll start tomorrow night,” Andrew said.

Despite all his vows to himself, he’d let Andrew handle this whole fucking negotiation.Because he unsettled you. You didn’t expect him to be so fucking hot.

Marco forced himself to focus. “Why did you agree to meet me if you weren’t looking for a job?” He hadn’t mentioned the job was temporary when he’d texted him.

The corner of Andrew’s mouth—even that was fucking beautiful—tilted up in a smile. “Maybe I was curious how you grew up.”

Hehadn’t been curious at all about how Andrew had grown up.

But that had been his own stupidity, imagining that the guy would still look like a gangly eighteen-year-old, not someone who’d just spent the last nineteen years in Paris.

“Curiosity satisfied?” Marco wondered gruffly.

“Almost,” Andrew teased.

Marco needed to get a fucking grip.

The irony was that just yesterday he’d been dodging fruit missiles and he hadn’t earned any of those, but this guy . . .well, Marco might deserve to be pelted by a whole fucking orchard if he did half the things his imagination was picturing.

He would keep everything focused on business.

Business was what mattered.

Marco dragged his focus back. “I’ll have Dario text you a link to our HR system. Get you set up.”

“Dario? Dario works for you now? I remember when he was barely a teenager, obsessed with comic books.”

And I remember when you were scrawny and plain and your smile wasn’t guaranteed to keep me up at night.

“Ah yeah, he’s . . .uh . . .he basically runs the empire now.”

“Not Luca?”

“I thought you’d seen Marcella since you’d been back?” Marco wanted to be annoyed by his charm, but he wasn’t.

“Oh, but we talked all aboutmyexploits,” Andrew teased. “She wanted to know all about Paris and Sweden and Barcelona.”

“You lived in Sweden and Barcelona?”

Andrew waved a hand. “Oh, I’ve been all around. Was definitely ready to come back, stretch my muscles a bit. But when I left, Luca had just taken over and I had a feeling even then you’d have had to pry out any control from his cold, dead hands.”

“Six years ago, he went to South Carolina to fix my aunt’s deli. Fell in love with the guy who ran the bakery there and basically . . .well, he’s not here, so I can say it.” Marco grinned. “He finally ran away from home.”

“And now Dario runs everything,” Andrew said, looking surprised.

“Yep, in his own painfully competent way. Of course don’t tell Luca that. He still thinks he’s got a finger in every pie here, and he does try, but he’s got his own mini empire over in Indigo Bay. A husband. Three businesses. His hands are plenty full.”

“I never thought he’d leave Napa. Kind of like I never thought I’d come back,” Andrew mused.

“Whydidyou?” Marco wanted to know, even though he had no reason to ask. All he’d probably have to do was ask Marcella. She could squeeze hot gossip out of a dry turnip.

Andrew shrugged. “Same old story. Bad breakup. Lost my job.”

He didn’t seem bothered by this confession. In fact, it felt a little rehearsed. And Marco couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t added any details at all.