by LuAnn McLane
Was someone trying to break in? Trish grabbed her cell phone and decided to creep down the stairs and see what was going on. But what if someone was already in the house? Her heart hammered in her chest and she wished she had a baseball bat handy. Instead, she picked up the empty wine bottle, thinking that might do the trick if push came to shove.
And then she heard a crash that had her nearly jumping out of her skin. She hurried across the kitchen floor and peeked beyond the vertical blinds, squinting, and then finally spotted the culprit.
“A raccoon!” And he’d just knocked over her garbage can. Relieved but grumbling, she fumbled with the latch and tugged, knowing she needed to shoo him away or there would be garbage all over the pavement in front of the garage. Trish made another mental note to get a garbage can with a sturdier lid that locked down. She tugged hard on the sliding glass door, grunting while wondering why it wouldn’t budge. “Oh . . . right,” she whispered, remembering the sawed-off broomstick inserted to keep out intruders, probably overkill in Cricket Creek but big-city habits die hard.
Finally, she opened the back door and stepped outside a few feet to the edge of the patio. She noticed the pretzels that she’d accidentally left outside that had been the late-night snack for the raccoon before moving on to bigger and better things. She shouted, “Go away! Go on, get out of here.” She brandished the wine bottle even though she wouldn’t dare go any closer. When the raccoon boldly looked over at her, Trish started waving her arms and jumping up and down, wielding the wine bottle like a sword. “Go! Get!” She stomped her bare foot and winced. “I’m warning you,” she said, hopping on one foot.
“Is there a problem?” asked a deep male voice that had Trish yelping. She stopped in midjump, mid-crazy-wine-bottle wave, and landed like a ninja ready to pounce and turned toward . . . “Anthony?” Digger came out with him and barked at the raccoon before trotting over as if to protect her.
“You seem surprised. I live here, remember?” Shirtless, he wore weathered gym shorts. His dark hair was wet as if he had just gotten out of the shower. When he gave her an amused grin, Trish realized she was still in the crouched ninja pose. He frowned at the wine bottle.
“I . . . it was . . . I heard a crash.” She pointed toward the garage with the neck of the bottle. “A raccoon knocked over my trash can.”
“Oh. Interesting, uh, weapon.” When his gaze lingered on her for a second, Trish remembered she was in a pink tank top and shorts . . . and no underwear. “Unless you were going to lure him away with a glass of wine?”
“It’s empty,” she said. “I . . . I should go pick the trash up.”
“You go back inside. I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s my trash,” Trish protested.
“Hey, it’s dark and there might be other critters out there.”
“I’ve got this,” Trish boasted, wanting to show that she was no longer dependent upon a man. But she swallowed, thinking of the beady eyes staring back at her waiting to pounce. No, she could do this. . . .
“I insist,” Anthony said, and started to cross in front of her patio at the same time Trish hurried forward before her courage disappeared. She ran smack into him and on instinct, or maybe it was divine intervention granting her secret wish, the solid impact of his chest sent her stumbling backward. The bottle flew from her fingers, luckily landing on the edge of the grass, and she grabbed his shoulders for support. At the same time his hands shot out and steadied her around her waist.
“Oh my!” Trish said, suddenly becoming acutely aware of his warm skin. He smelled of masculine soap and minty toothpaste. She would let go . . . as soon as her equilibrium returned, and she hoped it wasn’t anytime soon. For now she held on for safety reasons. “S-sorry.”
“For what?”
“Running into you.”
“Can’t say that I’m sorry,” Anthony admitted, keeping his hands put. He flashed Trish a sexy grin and for a heart-thudding moment she watched a droplet of water slide from his wet hair to his cheek, landing on the corner of his mouth. When he licked the droplet off, Trish almost moaned. For a moment she wished she could pinch herself to see if this was really happening or she was dreaming.
She watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, and for another heart-pounding moment, she thought he might . . . well, maybe . . . kiss her?
“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have voiced that out loud, but it’s been a long day.” He suddenly dropped his hands and took a step backward as if wanting to create some distance between them. Digger started running around as if thinking this was time for fun and games. The happy dog brought the tennis ball over, but instead of putting it at Anthony’s feet, he nudged Trish’s hand. With a giggle Trish tossed it.
“He seems to like you. Funny because he was a rescue and it sometimes takes him a while to warm up to somebody.”
Trish shrugged, wondering if she should confess that she and Digger had a thing going on, but she didn’t. “Look, seriously, you don’t have to pick up the trash. I need to put getting a better garbage can on my to-do list.” I’d like to put you on that list too went through her mind, and she felt heat in her cheeks. “I would wait until morning, but I don’t want to attract any more critters.”
“I’ll do it.” Light from his kitchen cast a soft glow, and when he took another step backward, Trish got a really nice view of his chest. Anthony stood close enough for her to touch him, and Trish sure wanted to and fisted her hands at her sides in an effort not to do just that. Damn . . . it had been so long, and having her hands on his warm skin had been such a tease to her senses.
Anthony had one of those nicely ripped, but not too bulky, athletic bodies along with an enticing dusting of dark chest hair that had her heart hammering. He didn’t immediately head over to clean up, just stood there as if he wanted to say more, but Digger ran over and started getting into the trash.
“I’d . . . I’d better get over there before he eats something he shouldn’t. I feel bad enough that he’s been cooped up so much lately. Katie, the dog walker I hired, left for volleyball camp and I haven’t found a replacement.” Tony sighed. “I let him out early in the morning and then sometimes not until late at night, but he’s been so good about not making a mess. Hopefully, I can make it up to him after things settle down for me.”
“I wondered what happened.” Trish nodded. When was a good time to confess you’d been secretly carrying on an affair with someone’s dog? She thought she would go join him and help while learning more about what was keeping him so busy, but a sudden cool breeze reminded her that she was scantily dressed and bending over might not be such a good idea, so Trish decided she’d better go back in the house. “Thanks so much, Anthony,” she said quickly. “I’ll get a new can tomorrow.”
Once she was back inside, Trish put her hand on her chest, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. Biting her bottom lip, she smiled and savored the little feminine thrill sliding down her spine. She already knew Anthony Marino was one sexy man, and there was something deeper about him that sucked her in, making her want to know more about him. He had a killer smile and the coming-to-her-rescue thing was a total turn-on. As much as Trish wanted to become independent, she couldn’t help liking the notion that he would come to her aid if need be.
But then she sighed when she remembered that she’d forgotten to ask him where he worked or if it was okay for her to let Digger out to play during the day. “Tomorrow,” she said, and then went back upstairs, hoping that sleep wouldn’t elude her. With any luck she’d have a steamy dream about her oh so dream-worthy neighbor.
• • •
Sunday passed by without any sign of Anthony, and feeling sorry for Digger, Trish let him out to romp around in the backyard while she worked on an article about Heels for Meals, a local charity benefiting families in need. Next on her list of restaurants to critique was Wine and Diner, but since she’d already eaten there she
knew the review would be a positive one. She thought once again about the Italian restaurant. She’d have to head there again to see if they’d settled down and improved. The review would be in the paper tomorrow and she was excited for her words to be in print but still felt a little bit of nagging guilt that the review wasn’t all that positive.
In addition to writing a lot of local articles, lately Trish had also been considering writing a novel but had yet to put the plot forming in her head on paper. When she’d once mentioned the idea of writing fiction to Steve, he’d scoffed at the notion, telling her she’d be wasting her time. Well, one thing that Trish had learned about her life since her divorce was that she’d wasted a lot of precious time not doing things she’d always dreamed of doing.
Those days were done. Knowing that made her want to dance a little jig.
Trish had decided it was about time to head inside when her cell phone rang. Looking at the screen, she smiled. “Hi, Maggie!”
“Hey,” Maggie said, “I’m finally back in town after a week in Nashville with Rick. He’s looking for new talent to sign at his recording studio.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was but I’m so behind with my work. So, what is it you were calling about?”
Trish watched Digger chase after a bird. “I haven’t been able to locate the lease for Anthony Marino. Steve might still have it, but I thought you would be able to e-mail me a copy?”
“I’m sure I can do that. I believe it was a two-year lease.”
“Oh, good. Hey, listen, do you know what he does for a living? He’s rarely here.”
“You don’t know? He and his nephew own River Row Pizza and Pasta.”
Trish’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Maggie, I had no idea. I just did a review of his restaurant for the paper.”
“You sound like you’re in a panic.”
“My pizza was burnt, and, well, let’s just say I didn’t slam them or anything but the write-up was, well, lukewarm at best.”
“Oh no. . . .”
“It comes out tomorrow morning. I don’t suppose I could go out and buy up all of the papers in the city, could I?” She tried to joke, but her stomach was doing flip-flops.
“Was it that bad?”
Trish winced. “It certainly wasn’t glowing. Oh, I feel terrible!”
“Hey, you were being honest. That’s your job as a reporter.”
“I doubt if he’ll see it that way.” Trish closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Maggie, what should I do?”
“Maybe he’ll take it better than you think. Or maybe he doesn’t read the local paper.”
“Maybe . . . ,” Trish said in a small voice. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough. What else do you know about him?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. His sister, Tessa, lived with her son, Reese, in the trailer park that Tristan and I recently bought. We’re going to build starter homes on the site. I sold Tessa a little bungalow up in town.”
“Oh, well, thanks, Maggie. I hope he’s not too angry. I’ll let you know how he takes it. You might need to find me another tenant asap!” she added with a wince. After ending the conversation, Trish called for Digger. She gave the dog a sorrowful pat on the head and he seemed to sense something was wrong. He put his head in her lap and looked up as if trying to let her know things would be okay.
“Thanks, Dig. But I don’t think your master is going to take this very well.” She sighed and felt a lump form in her throat. “You’d better get inside,” she said, and some of her newfound joy dampened. “Sometimes I just have some really rotten luck.”
12
Running on Empty
“UNCLE TONY, CALM DOWN BEFORE YOU BLOW A GASKET.”
Tony slapped the newspaper against his leg. “Calm down? Did you read this review?”
Reese nodded. “It’s not that bad.”
“Ha! Highly anticipated but lacking in service? Overbaked pizza? Out of the basics? Unprepared? How could this be worse?”
“You’re taking that out of context. She says some good stuff too.”
Tony snorted. “What, that the flowers were a nice touch? Not to mention that she’s my neighbor! My landlord. If I wasn’t under lease I’d pack up my shit and move out rather than pay Trish Daniels another damned dime!”
Tessa pushed through the double doors. “Pipe down. The customers can hear you.”
Tony inhaled a deep breath. “I’m tryin’.”
“Look, I have an idea. Why don’t you take her a fresh pizza? A big tossed salad with your amazing dressing and a slice of the turtle cheesecake Reese made last night?”
“Are you kiddin’ me? You want me to bring her a dozen roses from Gabby’s too? A bottle of Chianti?” To add insult to injury Tony had been thinking about his sexy little neighbor along those lines. Ha! That’s what he got for trusting a woman.
Tessa shook her head. “Look, this really sucks and I’d love to give her a piece of my mind, but, Tony, you need to stop seeing red and think about how to handle this professionally. Maybe after eating an amazing meal from here, she’ll write another review? I mean come on, she did say that we were obviously not prepared for such a big crowd. And she was right.”
“You tried to tell me, Tessa. I was too bullheaded to listen.” He sighed. “This is the only local paper and it is delivered all over Cricket Creek. People read it. This hurts.”
“I think Mom’s right. Take her a pizza. We’re not too busy. You need to go home and cool off. Go for a run with Digger. If we get in a pinch later we’ll call, okay?”
Tony looked over at Tessa and she nodded. “Do it. You have the meatballs ready for tonight’s special. Mondays are always slow for delivery too. We can handle pizza orders and we’re fully staffed in the dining room. I interviewed two more servers today and someone else for kitchen prep work. You’re worn out, Tony. Go home.”
Tony sighed, suddenly feeling so damned tired. At this point in his life, he should be almost coasting on cruise control instead of starting over. Sometimes it just really got to him. At times he felt like breaking down. Like now.
“Tony?” Tessa asked softly. “Are you okay?”
“Define okay?” he asked with a low chuckle.
Tessa walked over and gave him a hard hug. “Hey, we’re Marinos. Made of strong stuff. One little crappy review isn’t going to bring us down!”
“I’m making the pizza now,” Reese said. “Since we don’t know what she likes, I’ll just do basic pepperoni. Mom, the cheesecake is in the fridge.”
“I’m on it,” Tessa said.
Thirty minutes later Tony left the restaurant armed with the food. He only hoped he could keep his cool and not give Trish a piece of his mind. He turned on some music and tried to calm down and it almost worked until he parked his SUV and spotted Trish out in the backyard tossing a ball to Digger.
“What?” How in the hell did his dog get out? And then it suddenly all made sense why Digger liked Trish so much. She’d been letting him out without his permission! Not only had she tried to wreck his business, but she’d invaded his personal space. Tony narrowed his eyes and tried not to notice how cute she looked in worn jean shorts and a faded Cincinnati Reds T-shirt. She’d been critical of his restaurant. She was not cute. Her ponytail swinging back and forth with curly tendrils escaping wasn’t sexy, nor were her bare feet or tanned legs.
After opening the car door, Tony picked up the pizza box and grabbed the big plastic bag laden with food. He turned and witnessed Trish bending over to pick up the ball Digger had dropped at her feet and then tossing it in the air, laughing when Digger deftly caught it in his mouth.
“Good boy!” Tail wagging, the happy dog immediately brought the ball back for another toss. They were both so engrossed in the activity that they didn’t even
notice him standing in the driveway until he slammed his door to draw their attention. Digger happily bounded over to greet him.
Trish stood there with wide eyes, looking as if she wanted the ground to swallow her up.
Good, Tony thought as he took long, angry strides in her direction. To her credit she didn’t back up even though she swallowed hard and then licked her bottom lip. “I . . . can explain.”
Tony tilted his head to the side. “Explain why my dog is outside or explain why you felt the need to trash my restaurant to the public?”
“I didn’t trash your restaurant!” Her chin came up. “I wrote about my personal experience at your establishment. I write the truth! What other reason would there be for reviews?”
“It was evident that we didn’t expect such a large crowd. You could have come back later in the week.”
“That’s not how it works! Look, I’m sorry but it’s not my fault that my pizza was scorched and the service was slow or that you were out of salad.”
Okay, this wasn’t going the way he’d planned. After inhaling a deep breath, Tony said, “I brought you a real example of our pizza. I’ve been in this business for a long time. My family had an amazing pizza parlor in Brooklyn until I was forced to close. I know how to make a killer pizza.” He thrust the box forward and handed her the bag. “There’s salad with our homemade Italian dressing and turtle cheesecake that my nephew baked this morning. Everything we do is made by hand, including our sauce. Our crust is hand-tossed. You won’t get a better pizza anywhere. Period.”
Trish took the box and looked at him with stormy eyes. “Tony, had I known it was your restaurant—”
“I don’t need you to sugarcoat anything. Just eat the damned pizza. It speaks for itself.” He motioned to Digger. “Come on home.”