Kira nodded, relieved that she wasn’t the only one with an imperfect past. Already, it made Anthony more real than he’d appeared a moment ago. “Deal.”
Chapter 6
Anthony leaned back in his seat before reaching for his red-tinted plastic cup. The root beer was long gone, but the ice remained. He tipped it back and let a few ice pebbles tumble into his mouth.
“I would never have guessed we’d find pizza this good in Wyoming,” Kira said, reaching for her own glass. “Steaks, yes. Comfort foods, sure. But pizza?”
Anthony grinned. “I’m glad you liked it. I know what you mean. But this place really has it all. If it’s not in Cobble Creek, whatever it might be, you’re sure to find it in Duckdale Hollow. And it’s nice because it’s only thirty minutes away.”
“That is nice.” She shook a few ice pebbles into her mouth before scanning the room.
Duckdale’s Pizzeria had an entirely different feel to it than the diner. While Tony’s Diner relied heavily on bright light—either natural or florescent—this place offered a pub-type ambiance. The place was what he’d call dark overall, with scarce lighting placed along the walls while candlelight glowed at each table, whether occupied or not.
Tonight, he liked the low light. It made things feel more intimate. Private.
Throughout dinner, the two enjoyed playful banter and light conversation, just like he’d suggested. But as they finished up, he figured it was time to tap into something more.
“So you just have the one sister, is that right?” he asked.
“Right,” Kira said with a nod. “It’s me; my dad; my older, more responsible sister, Marissa; and of course, half a dozen aunts and a list of great-aunts that goes on forever.”
“So, lots of women, huh?”
She nodded. “Thanks to a few guy cousins, the Moretti line won’t stop here. But I’m still hoping for a few little ones of my own, keep the line going on this end too—even if they don’t take on my last name.”
Anthony grinned, a bit of warmth stirring in his belly. He liked hearing that Kira planned to start a family some day. It was hard not to get ahead of himself, as he had the tendency to do. Especially considering it took a certain type of woman to appreciate small-town living. And it seemed they were becoming a rare sort.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you plan to have kids? Maybe have a little bambino to take over the diner for you one day?”
He nodded. “Definitely.” Though Anthony knew that desire alone didn’t mean it would happen. His father may have gotten part of what he wanted, but he’d lost something very important along the way. And whether his old man accepted it or not, Mom’s leaving was no fault of his own. “What do you say we go … how did you put it—knock pins?”
Kira crunched on her ice. “Sounds good to me.”
As they left the restaurant, Anthony rested a hand at Kira’s lower back. And though the fabric of her blouse was cool, warmth radiated from her skin just beneath it.
Kira nudged into him, gently, as they took slow, lazy strides across the lot. A soft, tangy scent filled the breath he inhaled. He could swear it helped curb the briskness of the air. Warm, sweet, and tempting.
“Thanks again for the pizza,” she said. “I wonder if they’ll deliver to Cobble Creek.”
Anthony snagged his keys from his pocket and gave the unlock button a press. “They do,” he assured, “for the right price.”
She laughed. “Then I guess I better start booking some sittings.” She took his hand and climbed into the passenger seat. “Of course, I do know of this quaint little diner across the street from me. I’ve heard their food isn’t too bad.”
Anthony gently closed her door, then shook his head in disapproval from the other side of the glass.
Kira only grinned. Unrepentant, that one. He made his way behind the wheel and fired the thing up as she spoke up once more. “I’ve heard that one of the best things about the diner is the good-looking guy who owns the place.”
Anthony stretched his arm across the seat, glancing over his shoulder as he backed out. “Is that right? So do you agree with them—that the owner’s attractive?” He shifted gears, cranked the wheel, and weaved through the cars parked in the lot.
“He’s all right, I guess.” She laughed. “You know you’re gorgeous, rebel boy.”
After following the bending road toward the bowling alley, Anthony scanned the packed lot. “Maybe we should’ve considered that it’s Saturday night. It’s going to be pretty crowded. Are you sure you still want to bowl?”
Kira shrugged. “Sure. If you are. A little crowd never hurt anyone. In fact, some people enjoy being in crowded places.”
“True,” Anthony said as he pulled into an empty stall. He shut the engine off and turned to face her. Beside the truck, a towering sign stood. A giant bowling ball with a cluster of scattering pins flashed and glowed. The light grazed Kira’s pretty face as he asked her one very important thing. “Are you someone who likes big crowds?” He gulped once the question left his lips. Already his heart was pounding out some sort of drumroll for the response.
Kira glanced up at the flashing pins before setting her eyes on him. “Of course,” she said. “I’m as extrovert as it gets.” She unlatched her buckle and pushed open her door before Anthony had time to think. Suddenly she was climbing down. She peeked into the cab of the truck, the lower half of her body out of sight due to the height of his truck. “Stay there,” she said. “It’s my turn to come get the door for you.”
Her comment earned a reluctant chuckle, but inside, Anthony was working to digest Kira’s comment. An extrovert to the max? Loved big crowds? She’d never last in Cobble Creek.
Suddenly his door flew open, revealing a very beautiful woman with a contagious smile extending an arm toward him. “The pins await us, my champion. Shall we?”
Another laugh snuck out. “Sure.” Anthony would follow through with the night, and he’d enjoy it as best he could. But should he bother getting to know her? Risk losing his heart to someone who’d flee Cobble Creek before the next New Year came around? He wasn’t so sure that he should.
Chapter 7
The sights and sounds of the bowling alley breathed life into Kira. Country tunes played in the background somewhere, heard only between the loud clatter of exploding pins, beeping arcade games, and exuberant cheers. It took a little while to get their shoes and a few minutes more to get their lane, but at last it was time to play.
“I’ll get our names entered into this thing while you go pick me a lucky ball.” She hovered over the keyboard, squinting to read the directions on the glowing screen.
“Wait,” Anthony said. “You actually trust me to pick out your ball?”
She took her eyes off the screen, back to his handsome face. “Sure. Get a ten-pounder, will you? My thumbs are too big for anything smaller.” Kira had long ago gotten over the fact that she—unlike most of the girls she’d been on group dates with—didn’t have dainty, child-like thumbs. Marissa always said it was her own fault for popping her knuckles.
At the blinking cursor, she tapped Anthony’s name into the open space, but then changed her mind. A quick few taps on the delete key allowed her to give it another try. Rebel boy. In the space below, she tapped out something for herself: Angel girl.
In the spinning chair, she twisted to scan the place for Anthony. He was hunched before a display of bowling balls, inspecting the selection with caution. Yet her attention shifted to a couple of young women walking directly toward him, the two seeming to conspire as they approached in a huddle. One wore a miniskirt and baggy shirt, while the other wore jeans and a tube top. Miniskirt reached out and tapped his back.
It was like watching a good show. The suspense that kicked in as Anthony spun to look over his shoulder. Jealousy wasn’t much of an issue, seeing that the girls couldn’t be too far from their teens. Under twenty-one, for sure. The one who’d tapped him said something Kira couldn’t decipher, but whatever it
was made the tube top girl mad enough to give her a seething glare. Anthony looked like a kitten trapped in a pit bull’s playground. He shrugged, that bashful-looking grin pulling at his lips, and then pointed over to Kira.
Two heads whipped in unison as they scanned the lane with narrowed eyes. Kira raised a hand in the air and grinned. She set her eyes back on Anthony. “Did you pick me a good one, babe?” she hollered.
Miniskirt scrutinized Kira from head to bowling-shoe-covered foot before nudging her friend’s shoulder and walking away. Poor girls. Least they had good taste in guys. Anthony was probably used to being the best-looking guy in the bunch. Easy on the eyes and soft on the heart.
At least, he seemed that way. It was possible the guy was a real heartbreaker. But something told her if that was the case, he wasn’t setting out to hurt anyone. Her granddad wouldn’t have been so fond of him otherwise. But there was something in those dark brown eyes of his. And that wide, genuine smile that lured a dimple from hiding nearly every time. That same grin he was aiming toward her in that very moment.
Her heart responded like he’d shot darts at it. A heated sort of ache. Whoa. He might be more trouble than he let on. Whether it was on purpose or no fault of his own, there was no doubt Anthony Marino had definitely broken his share of hearts.
He turned back to the selection, snatched a tie-dye-looking ball off the rack, and straightened up. His eyes caught hers as he walked back, but darted off to the crowd after a blink. Shyly. For someone as flirtatious as he was—and the guy did know how to flirt—he shied easily, too. And heaven help her, Kira was a sucker for a guy she could affect in such a way.
She stood up as he neared, then placed her palms out in waiting before her. “Is that the luckiest one in all the land?” she asked as he rested it in her hands.
“It is now,” he said with a wink.
More zings to the heart. “Where’s yours?”
“To make things even, I figured you’d pick it out for me.”
“Brave, aren’t we?” she said. “All right. I’ll be right back.” She gave him a nod, let her shoulder graze his as she walked by, and set her sights on the rows of balls. Would there be one that reminded her of him? A certain look to it, maybe? But then she saw it. A gray sixteen-pounder with a white skull and crossbones. A crimson rose sprouted from one of the empty eye sockets while a thorny green vine twisted its way around the entire skull. Perfect.
It was heavier than she’d have guessed, and the grip holes were spaced so widely apart that she had to carry it over like a baby, one arm wrapped snuggly around it with the other beneath it.
Anthony had taken a seat at the monitor, his back to her as he faced the screen. Kira shifted her gaze up to the larger, overhead screen that displayed their scorecard. The cursor flashed next to where she’d typed the names. He was back-spacing. She stopped walking, watching as he erased the l, r, i, and g. Once the word girl was gone, he typed something new. She watched, unable to hold back a grin as the word appeared one letter at a time: woman. She looked up to see that he’d changed his name too. No longer the rebel boy, but the rebel man.
He spun back and shot to a quick stand once he was through, looking proud of himself as he folded his arms over his chest and looked up at the large screen.
“Didn’t like that I called you a boy?” she asked, stepping behind the rotating chair.
Anthony spun around. “I’m not a boy. And you …” he said, giving her a once-over that made her face flush. “Are all woman.”
She gulped hard. “Well,” she managed, “I can’t argue with that …”
“Good.” He nodded to the heavy thing cradled in her arms. “I like the ball you chose.”
Kira forced her mind out of its daze. “Oh, yeah. The design on here made me think of you.”
“Let me guess,” he said, eyes narrowing as he took the ball and studied it for a blink. “Because I’m dangerous?”
She chuckled. “It looks kind of like one of your tattoos.”
Anthony looked over his shoulder and pulled the sleeve up on his arm. “This one?” he asked.
She nodded, leaning to inspect it further. “Yes. Because of the roses, I guess.” From a distance it looked more like a scenic sketch of flowers, grass, and trees. But a closer look said there was more to the picture than that. “Is this a graveyard?” she asked, realizing.
He nodded.
She lifted a hand, traced over the main headstone with the tip of her finger. “Want to tell me about this?”
Anthony glanced down at it. “I was having a hard time saying goodbye to my mom, you know? Like, accepting that she might never come back. As a kid I had a therapist tell me, and my pops too, that we should have a service for her, as if she’d died or something. And the odd truth is, she could’ve been dead, for all we knew. How could we have known, if she insisted on living outside civilization? Neither one of us could ever really do it, though, you know? Cuz we kept on hoping that maybe she’d … I don’t know, she got sick of being in places after a couple years, it seemed. It made sense to assume she’d get sick of island living and come back sometime.
“Anyway,” he said, nodding toward their lane before walking over to it. He set the ball she’d picked out on the stand. “Once I was eighteen, I decided it was time to stop hoping for that. I told myself that she was probably dead in the literal sense. She had to be to stay away so long. So if you look closely, you’ll see the headstone has three M’s on it. Stands for my mother Maria. It might seem odd to have this tattooed on my arm when I don’t even know whether she’s dead or alive, but … it doesn’t represent putting the deceased to rest. Just my expectations of ever seeing her again.”
“Wow,” Kira managed. “It’s so tragic that she’s missed out on your whole life. If she’s alive somewhere, I’m sure she’s drowning in regret.”
Anthony smeared a palm over his forehead. “Who knows?” He glanced over his shoulder, the action pulling Kira from her reverie. “Let’s get started. Shall we?”
Kira nodded, realizing they’d gotten caught up in the same topic twice now. And she had yet to reveal much about herself. Hopefully she could avoid doing so for while longer. “Yep,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
The parking lot at Duckdale’s Bowling Center had cleared out since they’d arrived. Anthony hadn’t planned to stay so long. It had just happened. And now, after three games of bowling, countless pinball rounds at the arcade, and a couple of stale churros, they were back in the cab of his truck.
As Anthony roared up the engine, Kira flicked down the visor and reached into her purse. He watched as she pulled out a tube of ChapStick and spread it over her full, pouty lips. She blotted them together before shooting him a grin. “Want some?”
Why did it feel like she was asking something other than what she’d asked? “Sure.”
She looked at him pointedly, plopped the ChapStick back into her bag, and leaned across the seat until they were face-to-face. Anthony’s pulse hammered, the chaos of it nearly as loud as the explosion of pins in the lane.
She grabbed a handful of his shirt like she’d done by the pond so many years ago, and pressed her lips to his. Only this was not the hurried kiss she’d planted on him before. This was a slow, sensual taste of something he was sure to want more of until the day he died.
She pulled back, tilted her head as she caught his gaze. “Is that good? Do you have enough?” She rubbed her lips together.
ChapStick. She was talking about ChapStick. Anthony shook his head, slipped a hand up the back of Kira’s neck. “Not yet,” he mumbled, moving in for her kiss once more. Fire roared in his belly, hotter than the engine as it revved.
Not too far, he reminded himself; Angelo Moretti would have his head if he moved in too quickly on his granddaughter. The thought was enough to pull him out of his daze and end things with one last kiss.
Kira looked at him, her brown eyes smoldering in the low light.
Anthony rubbed his lips together. “Think
that’ll have to do for now.”
A smile stretched across her face. One that unraveled every rational line of thought he had. She sighed, scooted back to her side of the truck, and clicked her buckle. “Ready,” she said.
Ready? Oh, that meant he should pull out of the lot and steer them back to Cobble Creek. A part of his brain must’ve caught on, because soon he was nodding and putting the truck into gear.
“I forgot to ask about those girls,” Kira said as he pulled onto the street. “What did they say to you when you were picking a ball out for me?”
Anthony would have to focus very hard if he wanted to pull his mind off that warm, delicious mouth of hers. He put his thoughts back on the alley, recalling the pair who’d approached him after they’d arrived. “Oh, they were just …” He paused, chuckled, then puffed out his chest. “They wanted a little instruction on their game. Wondered if I’d come over and personally coach them on their techniques.”
Kira laughed. “You’re kidding. From where I was standing, they looked like they’d barely graduated from high school.”
He nodded. “Yeah, they looked young to me too. Maybe that’s why I had to go fix things on the scorecard. Can’t have anyone thinking I’m a mere boy. Or that I’d be interested in anything less than a woman.”
“Hmm …” She nodded, turned to look out the window. “So what did you tell them?”
“I explained that I was already instructing someone for the night.”
She laughed. “Too bad I whooped you two out of three.”
“An instructor,” he said with a grin, “always lets his student have a taste of victory before the day is done.”
Kira slapped his arm. “Well, I had two tastes of it.”
Anthony stopped at the red light, let his gaze fall to her lips. “So did I.” Was it just the streetlight, or did his insinuation make her blush? It made her smile in the least of it.
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