“Cara!” She greets me with a smile when she opens the door, then reaches out and takes hold of me to pull me in for a hug. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you?” I ask, hugging her back just as tightly.
“We’re home, so I’m happy,” she answers as she leans back to smile at me. “Come on in. Tony’s taking a nap, but we can have a cup of tea in the kitchen.”
“Sounds good.”
I follow her down a short hall, past a living room on the right and a half bath on the left. When we reach the kitchen at the end of the hall, she makes us each a cup of tea and then leads me into the dining room. Taking a seat at the dining room table, she sits close to me.
“Sugar? Milk?” she asks.
I take both from her, adding a dash of milk to my tea and a scoop of sugar.
“Thank you.” I stir my tea, then sit back in my chair.
“How have things been going at the shop?”
“Busy like always, but between Antonio, Peggy, Hector, and Marco, things are going smoothly,” I answer, hoping to reassure her.
“Antonio said you’ve been a big help,” she says quietly.
Her words surprise me.
“I . . .”
“Has he been nice to you?”
No.
“Yes,” I lie. “It’s been good. There is nothing for you and Tony to worry about.”
“We’re selling the shop,” she says suddenly, catching me off guard.
I cough on a gulp of tea I swallow down the wrong pipe.
“Wh-what?” I ask as she pats my back hard.
“The doctors don’t want Tony going back to work, not for a while. They’re still very worried about him.”
“I thought he was okay,” I whisper.
Her face softens as she reaches out and takes my hand.
“He’s okay, cara, but owning a business is stressful. He cannot have that kind of stress in his life. Not now. Not ever again.”
“I understand. What does Antonio think?”
“Tony wanted to hand over the shop to Antonio to run full-time.” She pauses, pulling in a breath. “But our son has never been interested in running the pizzeria. He loves his job as a fireman. He’d never be happy running the shop. Plus, he’s seen the toll the business has taken on his father.”
I give her hand a squeeze, hating the turmoil I see in her eyes.
“And we’re not getting any younger. We had plans—plans to travel and see the world, but we haven’t done any of those things. Tony getting sick has made me realize what we have missed out on. I don’t want us to miss out on anything more.”
“So you’re really going to sell?”
“Yes, we have an appointment to meet with a Realtor in a couple of days. We rent the space in the building, but we own everything in the shop. Hopefully it won’t take long to find a buyer.”
“How does Tony feel about this?”
“He’s devastated, but he knows that if he keeps going like he’s been going, he won’t be around much longer. More than he wants the shop, he wants to watch Antonio find a woman and start a family of his own someday.”
“I hate that there won’t be a Tony’s anymore. That I won’t get to go into the shop to hang out with you,” I tell her softly, and wet fills her eyes.
“Just because there won’t be a Tony’s doesn’t mean our relationship will come to an end. I still expect you over for tea and gossip regularly.”
I laugh. “You can count on that,” I agree, taking another sip of tea as she does the same.
“Peggy says you have a date tonight.”
Okay, Peggy has a big mouth.
“I do.” I shift uncomfortably in the chair, not wanting to talk to her about it.
“She also mentioned that Antonio didn’t seem very happy about you having that date.”
“Martina . . . ,” I sigh, and she smiles before taking a sip of her tea.
“I’m old, cara. Don’t crush my dreams yet. Let me pretend that my son is finally seeing what I have seen for years.”
Yes, Peggy has a very big mouth, and yes, she and Martina are both nuts for thinking that something is going to happen between Antonio and me.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“One thing I know, cara, is there is always hope,” she says quietly.
I sigh again, then listen to her laugh.
Thankfully, after that she drops all talk about Antonio. I fill her in on the life and times of Fawn and Mackenzie because a lot has happened in the last month with both of my sisters, including Fawn getting engaged at Christmas and Mackenzie meeting Wesley, who’s completely crazy for her.
Standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant where I’m meeting my date, I catch my reflection in the window. I inhale deeply and then let out a long breath. I’m not nervous about dinner. I know from past experience not to have high hopes for how the night will go. I also learned a long time ago not to put too much effort into dressing up—every time I’ve gotten home from one of these dates, I’ve been annoyed with myself for spending so much time on my appearance.
I settle on a pair of tight black slacks and a simple, sheer black blouse. I tuck it into my pants so it’s clear that my red belt matches my red heels. I keep my makeup simple, just adding untinted lip gloss to my lips. I wear my hair up in a bun, with a few wisps framing my face. Stepping into the restaurant, I scan the crowd. Palo said that my date, Walter, would meet me at the bar. He promised I couldn’t miss him because he’s movie-star handsome and really tall, with dirty-blond hair and striking blue eyes.
“Libby?”
A warm hand touches my arm, and I look up into a pair of blue—very blue—eyes.
Okay, so Palo was right.
The guy is handsome and very tall; even in my heels, he towers over me. He smells good, like subtle cologne and soap, and his gray-blue suit is killer and fits him like it was made for him. Judging by the quality, it probably was.
“Hi.” I smile at him.
“Well, Palo didn’t disappoint. You are as beautiful as he said you were.”
Okay. Wow. He’s handsome and sweet.
“Thank you.” I duck my head, feeling my cheeks get warm.
He chuckles. “Our table should be ready.” He places his hand against the small of my back and leads me toward the host. “Table for Yorks,” he says.
The woman standing behind the podium looks down at the iPad in her hand, touches a few buttons on the screen, and smiles at both of us.
“Follow me.” She picks up three menus, then leads us through the crowded restaurant.
The place is nice—maybe nicer than any restaurant I’ve been to before. The ambience is romantic, with beautiful artwork in nice frames hanging on the walls, each piece individually lit. The overhead lighting is dimmed to create intimacy, and the tables are all covered by white linen tablecloths.
“Here you are.” The hostess stops at a small table in the back of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” I say softly, and she smiles at me and then at Walter.
I slip off my coat and hang it on the hook near our table, then feel my lips part in astonishment when Walter gets close and holds my chair out for me. As I sit down, I watch him take his own seat across from me. I notice that he gave me the “good” view—where I can see the entire room. Soaking that in, I start to wonder if maybe this date might have actually been a good idea after all. As soon as I have that thought, though, Antonio pushes his way into my head. I grit my teeth and shove him right back out.
“The wine list.” The hostess nods as she sets it on the table, then does the same with the dinner menus. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you,” Walter and I say at the same time before we watch her disappear.
“Palo tells me you do makeup and hair,” Walter says, picking up his napkin and resting it on his lap.
“I do.” I pick up my napkin and do the same, trying to remember if I have ever eaten at a place with fancy nap
kins before.
“Do you like it?”
“I used to. Now I don’t. Not really, anyway.” I admit the truth before I can think better of it. “I . . .”
“Why’s that?” He studies me, and I lean on the table with my elbows to answer, then quickly pull them back as I catch him smile.
I might not have ever eaten at a place as nice as this, but I’m pretty sure there is a rule somewhere about elbows on the table. And in a place like this, I’m sure elbows would be frowned upon.
“I’m not sure.” I shrug. “I used to love it. Now I just don’t feel that way. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy my job. I love working for Palo. I just don’t know if it’s what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
“So what do you think you do want to do with the rest of your life?” he asks.
I sit back in my chair, realizing that twice in my life I’ve felt fulfilled and truly happy. And that both those times were when I was working at a pizza parlor.
“Maybe own a pizza parlor?” I admit.
His head tips to the side.
“Those are two vastly different things—making pizzas and doing makeup.”
“I know,” I agree, then I clear my throat. “So what do you do?”
“I’m a plastic surgeon.” I can totally see that. He’s perfect-looking, all beauty and class—from his hair to his custom suit to the expensive watch on his wrist and his polished shoes.
Why-oh-why can’t I have a thing for fancy suits and polished shoes? Why do I have to be obsessed with worn T-shirts, faded jeans, and boots?
“Do you like it?” I ask, shoving Antonio out of my head once more.
“I do,” he says. I can tell by the light that hits his eyes that there is more to it than him just being a plastic surgeon for socialites.
“Why?” I question.
His expression softens. “I specialize in reconstructive surgery for children. There is nothing better than changing the life of a child with a deformity, knowing that I’ve had a hand in making them feel better about themselves.”
“That’s amazing,” I say quietly, knowing that’s an understatement. In today’s world, looks seem to be everything, and I’m sure that he’s making a huge difference in the lives of the children he helps.
“Thank you.”
“So tell me . . . how do you know Palo?”
“He’s been doing my mom’s hair for years. The last time I came into town, we got to talking, and he told me that there was a woman I needed to meet the next time I was in the city. Here we are.”
“You don’t live here?”
“I live in Los Angeles.”
Of course he does. Of course the first blind date I’ve been on that doesn’t have me wanting to sneak out the window in the bathroom is with a man who lives all the way across the country.
“Have you ever been?”
“No, I’ve lived my entire life in New York. I grew up on Long Island, and my dad’s a cop. He worked a lot, so we didn’t get to travel much when I was younger.”
“You need to experience LA at least once in your life.”
“Why’s that?”
“The weather is nicer, the beaches are beautiful, and we have some of the best restaurants in the world.”
“And movie stars?” I say, watching him laugh.
“There’s also that,” he agrees.
“Maybe someday I’ll make my way over there.”
His face softens right before the waiter comes over to ask us for our drink orders.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Walter as we leave the restaurant. “I had a really nice time.”
“Why do I feel like I’m not going to see you again?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“I . . .”
God, I’ve had such a great time with him. He’s so easy to talk to, so easy to be around. But I know he’s not what I want.
“I’m sorry.” I duck my head. “I . . . There’s a guy.”
I feel his body tense, and I look up at him.
“He hates me.” I laugh without humor as tears fill my eyes. “Well, I’m pretty sure he hates me, anyway, and I’ve had a crush on him forever. It’s stupid because he’s a jerk. Still . . .”
“Shit,” he mutters.
I press my lips together. “I know it’s stupid. Believe me, I know it is.” I shake my head and look down at the sidewalk. “I just . . .”
“Follow your heart, Libby.” His softly spoken words cut me off and pull my attention back to him. “It kills me to say that after sitting across from you and enjoying your company for the last two hours, but follow your heart.” He touches his lips to my cheek. “If that guy doesn’t see how amazing you are, fuck him. You can find better.”
“Thank you, Walter.” I smile up at him, and his eyes scan my face for a long moment before he shakes his head and takes my elbow gently in his hand.
He leads me to the edge of the sidewalk; then he raises his hand for a cab. When one pulls up, he helps me into the back seat and gives me another soft kiss on my cheek before he shuts my door. Waving at him through the window, I flash him an awkward smile before the cab pulls away from the curb.
Sitting forward, I wonder what’s wrong with me. The date was awesome. No, better than awesome. Still, there were a hundred moments throughout dinner that I thought about Antonio. I couldn’t even think about exploring things with Walter.
When the cab pulls up outside my building, I get out and head into my empty apartment. The space seems even quieter than it has since Mac started staying the night with Wesley. It makes me feel suddenly lonely. I think about taking a long hot bath but instead change into my pajamas, get a glass of wine, and plant myself in front of the TV. I watch a scary movie until I eventually fall asleep.
“So . . . ?” Peggy asks as soon as Hector and Antonio are out of earshot.
“So . . . what?” I play dumb and hand a customer the pizza he ordered.
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. “Your blind date! How did it go?”
“It was good.” I shrug.
“Good?” she prods, tipping her head to the side and studying me.
“Walter was nice and sweet . . . and . . . well . . .” I pause, shrugging again. “The date went great, but he lives in LA and . . .”
“And Antonio?” she guesses.
I nod, and for some stupid reason, I feel like I’m going to cry.
“Oh, honey.”
“I’m okay.” I shake off the feeling, refusing to give in to it. I’m not even sure when I started to care so much about him.
“Right . . . ,” she says, but I can tell that she doesn’t actually believe me. “It will be okay.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I grab a rag and busy myself with cleaning tables. After that, I help Hector make pizzas and set up orders until we close. Around ten, Antonio finally comes out of the office to lock up. I go into the back kitchen to start washing the dishes that have piled up in the sink throughout the evening.
“See you tomorrow.” Peggy pokes her head through the door to the back kitchen, and I smile at her.
“See you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“You, too, honey.”
“Later, chiquita!” Hector calls loudly.
“Later, Hector!” I shout back.
Peggy smiles once more, then disappears from the doorway.
“You can go, too,” Antonio says, stepping into the kitchen where I’m still washing dishes.
“I’m almost done,” I point out unnecessarily since he can see that I only have a few more things to wash.
“I can handle the rest.”
“And so can I.” I turn my back on him and get back to washing, doing it loudly on purpose and banging the dishes in the metal sink as I wash them.
“How was your date?”
“It was good. Walter was nice.”
“Walter?” He spits out the name, and I turn to look at him.
“Yes. Walter,” I repeat, locking my eyes with his and feeling my heart start to pound strangely against my rib cage. My knees go weak as the air around us changes. It seems to fill with electricity that causes the small hairs on the nape of my neck to stand on end.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Is that any of your business?” I hiss, leaning toward him.
“Did you?” he growls.
Anger—along with something else I can’t identify—fills the pit of my stomach.
“That’s none of your business.” I toss the sponge in my hand at him, and it lands against his chest with a wet thud before falling to the floor. His eyes go to where it landed, then slowly lift to meet mine. They darken.
Backing up, I look around for a way to escape.
Crap.
“There’s nowhere to run,” he says.
My eyes fly to his again. “Stay back.” I grab the spray nozzle from the sink and raise it toward him with my fingers on the trigger.
“Put it down, Libby.”
“No.”
“Put it down,” he demands.
I press the trigger, and water hits him in the chest. His eyes narrow; then he lunges at me.
I swear . . . I swear I don’t know what happens next . . . One second we’re both fighting to get control of the water, and the next, everything has boiled over.
We both move at the same time. His arms go around me tight, mine doing the same in return. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, and I follow his lead. Our mouths are nipping, licking, biting, fighting for supremacy. Our hands explore, mine up his shirt and his up mine. My back hits the wall next to the door, and his mouth leaves mine and begins traveling down my neck. Whimpering deep in my throat, I tip my head to the side to give him more access while my hands travel up the smooth, hard, warm skin of his back.
“Fuck. You smell good but taste better.”
He nips my neck, and I score his back with my nails and listen to him groan in approval. His hands move to my ass, and he lifts, picking me up off the ground. Surrounding him with my legs, I drop my mouth back down to his while he carries me through the dimly lit shop to the office. Laying me on the couch, he comes down on top of me.
Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life Book 3) Page 5