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“It’s nothing,” Carson tells him and winks at me before he crouches down to look at the frogs. I have to duck my head and bite back my grin before I direct my attention to the two amphibians.

I stare at the frogs sitting on a rock along the perimeter of the pond, yet they don’t have my full attention. I’m too busyattempting to will my heart back into a steady rhythm while my brain fixates onnothing.

What a contradicting word . . .

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CARSON

“Okay, I’m not sure what you like to eat, but I figured tacos would be easy enough for tonight.”

The sound of Andi’s voice drifts from the front door as she lets herself in. Matteo and I are sitting in the kitchen looking through some of my old hockey cards I collected as a kid. Caleb and Tella left just before dinner and Andi insisted on running to the store to get some things for the house since I’ve been living here with virtually no food except for snacks.

I rise to my feet and meet her right inside the foyer, on the other side of the door that leads into the kitchen. “Let me get that,” I insist, taking the two bags from her. “Is there anything else that needs to be brought in?”

“There are a few more bags, but I can get them.”

“Nonsense,” I tell her and shift my body around her so I’m half ushering her into the kitchen with the bags. She looks over at Matteo, smiling at him before stopping by the island. “I’ll get the rest of the things.”

“Do you have a certain way you want the groceries put away?” she asks as she takes the two bags from me and begins to unload them. “I don’t want to put anything in the wrong place.”

I shake my head at her. “Wherever you put them is good with me.”

Leaving the two of them in the kitchen, I head back out to Andi’s car to grab the rest of the groceries and head back inside. Matteo is up from his seat, helping her to put things away as she arranges the ingredients she needs for dinner by the stove.

I step up to her, her back facing me as she glances over her shoulder. “What can I do to help?”

She raises an eyebrow at me and slowly turns around to face me. “I thought you don’t cook?”

“I don’t,” I admit, lifting my shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “How am I supposed to learn if no one ever teaches me?”

Her expression softens as her lips begin to lift into a warm grin. “Fine, I’ll teach you.”

Internally, I feel like I’m about to come undone, but on the outside, I’m able to allude to nothing but being cool, calm and collected. My heart is beating a million beats per minute, stumbling over itself as the butterflies in my stomach flutter uncontrollably.

Andalina Rossi was supposed to be a one night stand and after learning about Matteo, she was only supposed to be the mother of my child. But lately, things just feel different. The attraction that’s always been there grows deeper with every passing moment together.

“Can you chop up that onion for me?” Andi asks, motioning to it rolling away from her on the counter. She looks over at Matteo and thanks him for helping. “Caro,why don’t you go play in the living room while we cook?”

“Okay, Mom,” he says with the brightest smile and gives her a gentle hug.

I grab the onion, peel away the outer layer and Andi hands me a cutting board I never knew was tucked away in a cabinet. I find a knife and get to work. Andi gets the skillets she needs andsets them on the stove to heat while she starts to prep the rest of the food.

My eyes start to water, but I power through. I’m not sure the last time I’ve chopped a vegetable, although I’ve watched enough people doing it, so I think I’m doing it right.

Lifting the board, I walk over to Andi who’s standing by the stove. “Here you go,” I say, my voice soft as I hand it over to her. She tilts it over the skillet and the oil sizzles as she drops the onion in.

I cross my arms as I lean against the counter and watch her as she continues about her business in the kitchen. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, the aroma of sweet onions fills the air as I watch Andi. She preps another skillet and carefully slides the meat into it.

She grabs a spatula and slides it through the ground beef, her movements slow and elongated as she presses it in and out.

Goddamn, she makes cooking look like foreplay.

“You’re hovering,” she says softly, the corner of her lip curling as she glances at me from the corner of her eye. “You’re supposed to be learning.”

“Oh, I am,” I murmur. “I’m learning so much.”

She pauses her stirring of the beef, the tension between us snapping as she turns her head, hazel eyes flashing to mine. Her pupils constrict and my heart flutters inside my chest.