Can't Stop Loving You

by Miranda Liasson

  Mrs. Martin’s voice interrupted Bella’s thoughts. “The high grade on this test was a ninety-nine, folks,” Mrs. Martin said. “So if you got a grade that didn’t come anywhere near that, seriously consider coming to extra help on Tuesday and Thursday mornings before school.” A few groans sounded around the room.

  Someone had gotten a ninety-nine? Without trying to be obvious, Bella glanced about the room. Kaitlin Morris? Doubtful, because she was just complaining that ever since she’d started dating Nate Thompson she’d slacked off on her studying. Paul Zigosky? Ziggy was a red hot, but he hadn’t beaten her yet, and here it was October. Bruno Santoro? He was looking at her like he usually did, all brooding and lusty like, and she happened to catch his eye. It didn’t really faze her, because he did that to all the girls, hoping to get lucky with someone desperate enough to fall for his charms. She smiled politely and turned back around. Unless he’d had a brain transplant, he hadn’t gotten the grade. Even if he possessed the aptitude, academics was a vastly undermined part of his personality.

  That left the quiet, super-hot guy in the back who’d transferred in from Mirror Lake High at the beginning of the year. Bella felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle, like she could feel him staring at her, as she’d already caught him doing several times. Or rather, how he’d caught her doing. She forced herself not to look.

  If anything, Bella considered him cocky, a good-looking guy who knew it and who attended Our Lady of the Lake for one reason: the hope of a basketball scholarship, since their team was phenomenal. That sort of utilitarian purpose made her avoid him—the guy had jock written all over him, and with the way he checked out the girls with those big brown eyes, you might as well add trouble to that list, too.

  Confidence seeped from his pores—he wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion. Once he even made a point of agreeing with Mary Alice Hutchinson, who had a stuttering problem and had been forced by Mr. Baxter to answer a history question. After that, all the girls fell in love with him a little, especially Mary Alice.

  His hair was always perfect—longish layers of shiny black silk, falling perfectly into place in a way that was just mussed enough to look carelessly styled. Even the Our Lady of the Lake uniform, a regulation polo and khaki pants, looked drool-worthy on him. Especially the pants, which caressed his narrow hips like a glove.

  He had the Mediterranean complexion, dark and swarthy. His eyes were the color of black coffee, and his nose—perfect, straight, Greek. His lips were full and sometimes quirked in the shape of a secret smile, which he’d shot in her direction several times. Like he was sharing a private joke with only her. Thinking. Waiting to make his move.

  Which he probably would. Lots of boys at Our Lady of the Lake noticed Bella. She knew she was pretty—not in a vain way—but she was friendly and outgoing and just about everyone liked her, and she was okay with all of that.

  She also rejected the advances of a lot of boys, mainly because her father didn’t approve of anything but group dating. The ones who were bold enough to ask for more she politely and pleasantly turned down. It actually made her smile to herself a little, thinking what would happen if she ever dared to bring a Greek boy home to her traditional Italian father. Yet one more reason why leaving town for college was a necessity.

  Several times they’d locked gazes. In the hallway between classes. In the cafeteria. He’d been lingering after school, leaning against the retaining wall at the front of the building when he watched her and her girlfriends walk by. But he never asked to walk home with her. Or sit with her. And he never talked to her. But somehow she always knew when he was around.

  The bell rang, and since it was Friday, relieved sighs and a couple of cheers went up as the stampede flocked to the door. Bella stayed a little longer in her seat, fumbling with her books. It had to have been him who broke the curve, and she had to know. As he approached, she saw a paper jutting out from the others that he clutched with his books next to his hip. Positioned right at eye level so she couldn’t miss it. A blue-inked ninety-nine stood out.

  Her gaze traveled up, up his lean torso, up his substantial height to his face, only to find he was looking straight at her. With a knowing, amused expression, those too-full lips turned up in a wicked smile. As if he knew all her secrets. Not that she had any significant ones, but he made her feel like she might one day be capable of having some.

  His gaze scorched her—no, seared right through her—leaving a burning trail everywhere and catapulted her into an uncharacteristic moment of panic. Her mouth went dry, her stomach tumbled, and her hands actually shook. Shook! What on earth was happening to her? She busied herself stuffing her notebook into her bag. He pulled out the test paper—purposely!—folded it, tucked it into his book, and strolled out of the room. But just before he cleared the door, he gave her a wink.

  Jess’s horoscope had been right. Something had just happened, something unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and somehow, Bella knew that things would never be the same.

  Besides knowing Roman Spikonos was a transfer student, Bella knew only two other bits of information: his mother was a child psychologist in town, and the girl he dated, Reagan Swift, was a drama queen. Literally. Slated to star in both of the drama club productions this year, rumor had it she’d been accepted to Interlochen but her parents had decided to save their money for Juilliard. She possessed the voice of an angel but the personality of a shrew.

  Truthfully, Bella didn’t want to know more. Because any boy who dated Reagan probably needed his head examined. Besides, Bella was too busy. She had big plans, and she was way too focused to let a boy mess them up. Even a boy she couldn’t stop thinking about.

  On a Thursday afternoon a few days after the chemistry test incident, Bella finished cross-country practice and ran to the bleachers to grab her things. She had to hurry home and get supper started. Plus the garden center was all geared up for the busy fall season and she’d have to spend several hours hauling pumpkins and hay bales and cornstalks for the fall displays. Not to mention she had a history test tomorrow.

  “Hey,” Roman Spikonos said as she gathered up her gym bag.

  She looked at him. Really looked, because he’d actually talked to her, and when she met his gaze, a funny thing happened. Her legs turned boneless. Her mind wiped itself blank. Blood whooshed in her ears, and she turned hot and cold and dizzy all at the same time. She’d never met a boy who’d caused such full-blown chaos inside of her . . . like she was coming down with the flu. All the more reason to get away from him as fast as possible.

  Her brain kicked in and she remembered that sometimes he picked Reagan up after practice. Of course. But she’d skipped practice today for a vocal lesson. Then what in God’s name was he doing here?

  “Congratulations on getting the high grade in chem,” she managed.

  He shrugged. “Luck, I guess.”

  “You needed more than luck to ace that test,” she said.

  Another shrug. “You walking through town?”

  She nodded and climbed down the bleachers to the field, slinging her book bag over her shoulder. Every muscle felt unnatural, like her legs had suddenly turned into rubber bands, and she was terrified she’d miss a step and go sailing through the air and land flat on her face at the bottom in a broken heap.

  Roman lived a block off the square in a quaint old Victorian his mother had refurbished, and it was large enough for her to have her office there. Bella knew it because she’d gone there for therapy for several months after her mother died. Her father would never have admitted his daughter had a problem, but Aunt Francesca had made him send her.

  The house wasn’t very big but it was charming, one of her favorite houses in town. It had green and deep-red trim and a scalloped roof and a big rose garden in the tiny front yard. And her office was bright and cheerful with big windows and loaded with photos—she hadn’t realized at the time that the boy in many of them was Roman. A fairy cottage, she’d always thought. Magic. Very d
ifferent from the big old Craftsman-style bungalow behind the garden center where she grew up.

  Although their landscaping was impeccable, and they always had gorgeous flowers overflowing from baskets hanging on the porch and growing in the little garden, Bella’s house hadn’t been updated since her mother got sick ten years ago. It always seemed a little sad to her, even though she made an effort to bring in cut flowers, and last year she even bought some colorful throw pillows from Target for their old couch. But it was always like it was missing some essential thing . . . her mother’s touch.

  He walked beside her in silence. She could usually stare boys down until they squirmed. She could disarm the cutest of them without blinking an eye, but now she found herself holding her breath, unable to properly breathe, feeling winded just from walking. She barely dared to look sideways, out of nerves, but when she snuck a glance, she discovered he was quite tall, head and shoulders above her; she’d have to tilt her head back to fully see his face. She wished she would’ve said she had a meeting at school or that she was waiting to walk home with her friends Sam and Jess or anything to avoid this awkward discomfort.

  When they left the field and began walking down the short road that led to Main Street, he slowed. “I have to ask you something.”

  Oh no. She knew what that meant. He was obviously very confident, and clearly expected her to say yes, but she was going to cut him off at the pass. Plus he had a lot of nerve, cheating on Reagan, even if she wasn’t very nice. “I’m sorry, but I—I don’t really date. I’m too busy with my studies and being class president and—”

  She paused, cursing silently that she’d stammered. What was it that had her so tongue-tied? It was part of her spiel, and she knew it by heart. She usually nipped this kind of thing right in the bud.

  Her father would never allow her to date a Greek boy, someone flagrantly named Roman of all things—there sure wasn’t a Saint Roman in the Catholic lexicon that she knew of, and she’d definitely looked. Especially one raised by an agnostic adoptive mother. No sense in even imagining it. Besides, clearly he liked his girls dramatic and high maintenance and, let’s face it, slutty, and she wasn’t any of those things.

  “I’m not asking you out,” he said.

  She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. “You’re not asking me out?” she repeated. After all those hot stares, those stealthy glances across the chem lab? She couldn’t believe it. Anger percolated up through her chest, which appalled her. How could she be angry? Worse, she felt a little . . . hurt. Disappointed. Oh, what was wrong with her?

  “You know this is a new school for me and all,” he said. “And . . . um, I just need a little bit of help in English lit.”

  “English lit?” she repeated, trying to get a handle on what he’d just said.

  “Yeah. I’m struggling a little with the readings.”

  “Oh.” Mr. 99 Percent needed help in English?

  “Mrs. Lawrence thought you might be interested in helping me. I could pay you.”

  She didn’t have time for tutoring. Especially not gorgeous guys who made her stammer. Ones who performed three points better than she did on chem exams. Was this a trick?

  “It’s not a big time commitment if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “I’m working in my grandparents’ orchard, and it’s busy. I’d have about a half hour before school if you’d be willing to help me a couple days a week. Just until I catch up. I could pick you up at your house in the mornings and drive you to school, if you want. Then you wouldn’t have to walk. It would save you some time.”

  How did he know she walked to school? Nine-tenths of a mile there and back every blessed day. Well, Mirror Lake was small, so it wasn’t like he’d have to go out of his way to know that, right?

  She gathered at least part of her flailing composure. “Wh-why do you need tutoring?” she asked.

  His lips quirked up in a smile that made her heart dive into her stomach like a careening paper airplane. “I just don’t get English. All that old language. And I can’t risk it fu—er—messing with my GPA. And basketball practice lets out at five, I think the same time as cross-country, so I could give you a ride home if you want, too.” He paused, long enough for her to physically feel his gaze wrap fully around her like a blanket. His voice was all business, all school library, but those eyes . . . they were in the bedroom. Totally.

  She tore her gaze away. Stared off at the storefronts, most of which had colorful displays of yellow and burgundy mums with decorative cabbages and gourds and pumpkins. She hated getting up early. God knows she was up late enough as it was, by the time she did the garden center stuff and homework and made everyone’s lunches . . .

  “Please,” he pleaded.

  She hadn’t meant to look again, but her eyes were drawn back to his face like a wreck on the side of the road you don’t want to stare at but you do anyway. And once she did, she was a goner. It was his damn eyes. Those gorgeous, warm brown eyes looking at her like her destiny. She was helpless in the face of all that charisma. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Great.” His smile widened, displaying gorgeous white teeth, only imperfect enough to make him human.

  “How about this?” she bartered with the miniscule amount of sense she had left. “I can walk to the end of my driveway and you can pick me up there. It . . . wouldn’t be a good idea to come up to the house, okay?” The driveway was long and wound through a wooded area before it reached the road. Her father would never notice anything was different.

  “So that’s a yes?” he asked, those eyes of his drilling into her like she’d said yes to something entirely different. Something a lot more fun than tutoring.

  “It’s a yes,” she managed, hoping she would be able to speak coherently in front of him during their lessons.

  He blew out a breath. “Okay. We start tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Being back on his grandparents’ property made Roman want to pound things. Like his own head, for feeling so frustrated. His return to Mirror Lake wasn’t supposed to be like this, coming back to the orchards he loved without his beloved grandfather there to instruct and guide him in all the millions of tasks needed to keep the farm running.

  He concentrated on pounding the old barn roof that he was sitting on top of now, ripping off old shingles one by one in the September heat. One of many jobs that desperately needed completing around the 130-acre farm. Gramps had been heartbroken from losing Gram last year, then he’d died last spring of a sudden heart attack, and the farm sure showed signs of his absence.

  “Hey, watch it! That thing almost hit my head!” Roman looked up from his work to find a man with aviator sunglasses standing in the yard below him grinning widely and flicking shingle dust off his tattooed arm.

  “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Roman said, tossing down his hammer. “Lukas.” He blinked twice, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, then climbed down to embrace his older brother, whom he hadn’t seen since Lukas had left Mirror Lake to become a national singing sensation.

  “Welcome back,” Lukas said. They hadn’t lived together in the same town for years, but they’d always shared a special bond. Lukas had been a wild child, always causing problems, sometimes with the law. When they were just kids, he’d stolen a baseball glove for Roman and taken the rap, a move that got both of them separated and sent to different foster homes. Lukas then drifted from home to home, finally settling down in high school as a result of being placed with a kindly older couple.

  Roman would never forget how his brother had fought for him and had tried to keep up with him despite their different placements. Their younger two brothers had each gone to separate homes at the ages of six and four. Roman’s adopted mom had tried to keep them in contact, but both younger boys had been adopted into very wealthy families who weren’t exactly eager to continue the connection, and eventually, they’d lost track of each other.

  Last year, Roman was
happy to help Lukas locate their oldest brother, Nico, who’d become addicted to heroin and lost custody of his son. Roman had helped Lukas get papers signed last spring so Lukas and his wife could adopt Stevie, and last he’d heard, Nico was in rehab.

  “The place looks . . . interesting,” Lukas said, glancing around at the dilapidated barn.

  “It’s a work in progress, that’s for sure.”

  “What’s your plan for the place? I heard you were working in craft beer in upstate New York.”

  Roman nodded. “And brandy. I’m building a distillery. My grandfather wanted me to farm the land, but my heart was never into that aspect of it. I’m looking now for some business partners.”

  “I’d love to hear more about it. Actually, I stopped by to invite you to come for dinner . . . meet my family,” Lukas said.

  “It would be an honor,” Roman said. Lukas had recently married Samantha Rushford, an art teacher and coincidentally one of Bella’s best friends.

  “How’s living next door to trouble?” Lukas asked, tilting his head over to the D’Angelos’ place.

  “Do you mean Vito or Bella?” Roman asked.

  “Well, last I heard Vito wasn’t that pretty and Bella was.”

  “She still is,” Roman said, thinking of how her sass, her smile, her compassion for mangy animals—which didn’t extend to him, he’d noticed—stirred him as much as those filled-out curves in that pretty red dress. As a woman, she’d become more complex and even more intriguing than she’d been as a girl. Yet his complicated past with her had made him leery of settling here and opening old wounds.

  “You always smile like that when you think of a woman?”

  “I wasn’t smiling,” Roman said, making sure to scowl.

  “Right. Well, good luck with that.”

  “I’m just looking to make peace. That’s all. I just want to be able to coexist in the same town again.”