"Wouldn't that make me arrogant?" she asked, arching a brow at him. Veronica had never looked at herself the way men looked at her. She had grown up behind flour-dusted counters and hot ovens.
"No," Luca said, leaning back on one hand. "You hide your beauty deliberately under that stupid pizza T shirt and those tragic jeans."
"Tragic?" she laughed, genuinely this time. "They are practical."
"They are criminal," he corrected smoothly. "It's like you are trying so hard to dim yourself. When you should shine."
She placed his plate in front of him. "Eat. And stop trying so damned hard to be romantic."
"I'm not trying," he muttered. "It's involuntary around you."
