“Perfect. Now, for the best part.” She whipped out a makeup kit the size of a tackle box. I cringed and scooted away.
“Chel, I have make-up on.” I batted my mascara coated eyelashes at her.
She snorted. “I was talking about the rest of your face. Now, to the bathroom!”
CHAPTER 7—First Date
Kyle was as yummy as a dark chocolate cake with ganache frosting in his crisp, storm-blue button up and black slacks. He even wore a silk tie and a jet black suit jacket. I bit my lip. He looked a little more than semi-formal, but I drank in the image with delight. He made our house look shabby just standing on the porch. I was so glad Chel insisted on picking out my outfit.
“Hey.” I tucked a curl behind my ear.
“Hey yourself, beautiful.” He smiled, showing off his white teeth. “Ready to go?”
“Um…my aunt kinda wants pictures. Do you mind?” I blushed. You’d think I was going to Prom from the way she fussed over me. Yeah, it was my first date, but he didn’t need to know that.
The corral gate burst opened and Aunt Lily and Cammie swarmed us as he stepped inside. Sarah stayed aloof in the back, watching with mock boredom.
“Kyle, it’s so good to finally meet you.” Aunt Lily held out her hand to shake his. She was still in her scrubs with her short, dishwater-blonde hair pinned back.
Geeze, now he’ll think I talk about him all the time. Not that I haven’t mentioned him, but that isn’t the point.
Kyle gave me a sideways glance and a crooked smile. My insides twisted in humiliation.
“Tayla talks a lot about you, too.” Kyle’s suave demeanor won my aunt over, and her smile grew wider.
“And me?” Cammie tugged on his arm. “She talks about me, too, right?”
Kyle chuckled and squatted to Cammie’s level. “She talks about you the most.”
Cammie tackled him in a hug, her face bright with joy. At that moment, I forgave him for the months of torture. Maybe I’d misjudged him.
Aunt Lily snapped pictures as if we were a moving target. My eyes watered from the rapidly firing flash. I put my hand up to ward her off. It was then that Kyle held out his hand and escorted me to his Toyota Tundra.
“Thanks for that,” I said.
“For what?” He looked at me. “Your family’s great.” I heard longing in his voice.
“Yeah.”
The silence stretched on as we walked to the truck. My mind rattled for something to say. “So where are you taking me?”
To be honest, there were only a handful of restaurants in Cody that had a dress code and only three that required a suit and tie.
“Valacari’s.” He opened the passenger side door.
I should have known he’d pick the fanciest of the three. I’d heard the servers even spoke Italian if you asked. Not that I knew more than ciao and bagno. Definitely no help when it comes to ordering food.
But at the moment, the climb into the truck cab was a much bigger concern. It would definitely show some leg and possibly my rainbow stripped panties Cammie bought me for my birthday, and I was not going to let that happen. I must have looked troubled because Kyle offered to lift me in. With his hands on my waist, I thankfully made it into the seat without flashing any sparkling, fluorescent colors.
Kyle jumped into to the driver’s seat. “Guess I should’ve brought the corvette.”
“Then I’d have the opposite problem, and you’d have to pull me up out of it,” I teased.
He laughed. It was like I had the old Kyle back, the one before Todd, and I started to wonder if the last several months had just been an imagined nightmare.
“So I take it your aunt had the night off?” Kyle drove down Main Street as the sun hung low.
“She was on her break.” I twirled one of the hanging ringlets with my finger. Aunt Lily had spent the whole hour fixing my hair in a sweeping pile of curls. “She has to finish her night shift, so Kathleen will watch the girls until I get home.”
Man, I sounded like a dork without a life.
“That’s the ancient babysitter, right?” He smirked and pulled into Valacari’s half-circle driveway.
“Right.” I was surprised he remembered.
Grabbing my waist, he lifted me from the truck and handed his keys to the valet. I’d never been to Valancari’s, only driven by it a time or two. The exterior was cobbled with river stone and plaster. The slanted roofs were covered in slate shingles. It looked just like a villa straight from Italy. When we entered through the carved wooden doors, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, and the smell of baked cheese manicotti and shrimp tortellini with fresh baked bread set my mouth watering. We always ate Italian for Uncle Stan’s birthday every year. He loved the little mom-and-pop joint near our old apartment in Charleston. Those memories were dangerous, so I pushed them away, determined to enjoy this night free of sadness.
In the middle of the restaurant, a three-tiered fountain bubbled into a pond filled with colorful koi. The waiter led us to our table, and Kyle pulled out a chair. At first I didn’t notice and headed for the other side, but he cleared his throat and gestured for me to sit in the one he held out for me. I blushed sheepishly and sat. Kyle rounded the table and the middle-aged waiter lit the three elegant candles that were our center piece. I picked up the gold-embossed menu and leafed through the pristine pages. Everything on the menu sounded delectable, though I struggled to read most of the foreign titles.
“The specials tonight are the Tuscany chicken with sundried tomato pasta al dente, the—”
“We know what we want.” Kyle handed his menu back to the surprised waiter.
What? I wasn’t ready. I opened my mouth to ask for more time, but the waiter interrupted my thoughts.
“Of course.” The waiter whipped out his note pad and pen. “What shall it be this evening.”
I felt cheated but was temporarily stunned when perfect Italian flowed from Kyle’s mouth as he conversed with the waiter.
“Saremo entrambi hanno il vitello marsala, italiano soda crema di lamponi e tiramisu per dessert.” Kyle finished and grinned at me.
“Volonta che sia, signore?”
“Si.” Kyle responded, and the waiter left.
“I didn’t know you spoke Italian.” I was sure my mouth was hanging open.
Kyle winked at me. “My mother hired private tutors to drill me in the romance languages. Talk about no recess, but I can appreciate its uses now.” He curved his lips into a partial come-hither smile that made my heart flutter. I couldn’t argue with that.
“So, what am I having?” I asked, still annoyed he’d ordered for me. I picked up my tepee-looking napkin and placed it on my lap.
“The Veal Marsala, Italian raspberry cream soda, and tiramisu for dessert. You’ll love it.” His smile broadened, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.
Flashes of a documentary Chel showed me last November of baby cows herded into slaughtering shoots and mooing in agony flashed through my mind. I coughed a gag into my napkin.
“Are you okay?” Kyle eyed me with concern.
I wasn’t about to ruin the night, especially not after the real Kyle had finally returned. Though I considered myself a proud vegetarian, I’d have to make an exception. Just this once. I lowered my napkin.
“Just a tickle.” I sipped my water and his focused gaze said he didn’t quite believe me. I attempted a smile to put him at ease. The smile was a little tight lipped as I tried to hide my nausea. Why did he have to order cow and a baby at that? It was all I could do to keep from rushing to the bathroom when a fresh wave of blood spurting images raced through my mind. I had to calm myself. Kyle would never honor my vegetarian beliefs. I’d never hear the end of his “tree hugger” soapbox. Even Aunt Lily didn’t understand, but I’d made a vow. Would Chel forgive me for breaking it, this once?
Needing a distraction, I shifted my gaze to the painting hanging on the wall a few steps from our table, determined to enjoy my surroundings. The meandering
pathways wound through a quaint Italian town—transporting the viewer into a tranquil setting.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kyle staring at the painting, too. “Yes,” I said.
“It’s a seaside village near Manarola. Seeing it in person is a hundred times better than a painting.”
“Have you been?” I swiveled back.
He chuckled. “Yeah, my mother has the travel bug.”
“Where have you gone recently?” I figured they would’ve traveled a ton in the three years Kyle had lived here. There wasn’t much to do in Cody if you weren’t the roping livestock type.
Kyle frowned. “We take small trips around the U.S. when Dad comes home, but that’s it. The last trip Mom and I took was the Mediterranean cruise three and a half years ago.”
The pain in his voice threw me off. I wasn’t used to Kyle being so real—so vulnerable. I twisted my napkin under the table, unsure if I was supposed to say sorry or ask why. Thankfully, the waiter came with our salad and bread, and I stuffed crisp green leaves into my mouth, avoiding the awkwardness between us. Finally, real food!
Between bites of salad, I watched the thin lady at the white grand piano. I couldn’t see her fingers, but I heard them float over the ivory keys like a swan as the melody flowed through the room.
“You like music?”
Kyle’s voice startled me. I blushed. “Yeah. Do you?”
“Sure, but it has to have a strong beat, like rock or alternative.” His fingers drummed the table as if a favorite tune played in his head. “My mom made me study classical with my tutors, and ever since, just hearing it makes me cringe.”
He grimaced playfully, but I felt a twinge of sadness. Music was a refuge for me. The notes vibrating from the grand piano resonated with me on a level that spoke of peace and better times. Strangely, I wished Kyle could share the same passion.
He reached across the table, his forefinger brushing across my furrowed brow. Great. Was I frowning as well?
“Hey. Smile.” His finger trailed down my cheek to the corner of my lips and poked the corner up.
I laughed, pushing his hand away.
The waiter placed our main dishes before us. “Buon appetito.”
The basil and tomato aroma transported me to my childhood garden with Grandpa Jonas. He joked that I smeared more dirt on me then I left in the garden. But my smile faltered as the smell of cooked blood overpowered the tomato. My stomach swirled with acid that bubbled up my throat.
Kyle grinned at me expectantly.
“Looks great,” I lied. It looked like death in a greasy mud puddle. The only “delectable” thing about it was the variety of mushrooms heaped on top. I loved mushrooms, and these were the most savory: porcinis, truffles, and portabellas. I stabbed a big chunk of portabella, hoping the meat hadn’t ruined the taste.
I placed it in my mouth and chewed slowly. The juices flowed over my tongue, and I sighed—it was pure mushroom.
Kyle watched me take another bite. Feeling self-conscious, I swallowed it whole. “I told you it was good, and wait until you taste the veal,” he said. And with that he took his own advice. His meat fell apart as he pulled on it with his fork. Then motioned for me to do the same.
Come on, Tayla, you can do this. Just one bite won’t hurt. You used to eat meat all the time.
Yeah, that was before I realized what I was really eating.
I picked at the veal with my fork, like I’d seen Kyle do, but it didn’t budge. I swallowed my frustration. I just wanted to get this over with, so I picked up my knife and sawed off a sliver. I smothered tomato sauce and a big chunk of portabella on top, praying it would mask the taste, and popped them both in my mouth.
“Mmm,” I said, making a production of the bite.
The mushroom covered the meat’s salty taste just enough to encourage me to bite down. I chewed, expecting it to melt like butter so I could swallow it fast, but a burnt gristle taste exploded in my mouth and I gagged. Bringing the cloth napkin to my lips, I coughed and quickly spat it out, hoping Kyle would think it was just another tickle. I quickly brought my glass to my lips and attempted to wash the taste away, but it clung to my tongue like the taste of a broken promise. It was so nasty I would have gagged even if I wasn’t a vegetarian.
“Have you tried the mushrooms?” I asked Kyle attempting to get the focus off the meat.
“Nothing but the best here.” He forked another mouthful of meat, and I looked down at my plate. I sighed in relief. He hadn’t noticed.
Scraping the sliced mushrooms into a pile, I savored each mouthful as it replaced the rancid taste of burnt meat bit by bit. But I couldn’t help picturing the cow who’d died for my betrayal. Chel would kill me if she ever found out.
I brought my focus back to Kyle. “So are we going to see Drake?” I secretly prayed that we weren’t. Horror movies weren’t really my thing, but from all the hunting stories Kyle bombarded everyone with, I’d guessed he’d choose that one.
His eyebrow rose. “I didn’t think you’d like that one. But if you want—”
“No, no. I’m good.” I waved my hands as if to ward off something putrid.
He blasted a belly laugh. “Then it’s a good thing I picked something else.”
“Seriously. You’re not going to tell me?” I leaned forward.
He gave me a devilish smile. “Nope.” He popped the last bit of veal into his mouth, before his gaze fell to my plate and frowned. “You didn’t like the veal?”
“I…” I paused, stumbling for an excuse. “I’m more of a mushroom person.”
His eyes narrowed, and before I knew what had happened, Kyle forked a slice of veal from my plate and plopped it on his empty one. I cringed watching him saw a chunk off with his knife. Dread pooled in my gut as he popped it in his mouth. He chewed a few times and then spat the mangled brown thing onto his plate. Several couples glanced our way.
“Why didn’t you say something?” His jaw flexed. I didn’t answer. What could I say? I’m a vegetarian, but it was nasty anyway? I didn’t want him to make a scene, but that had obviously backfired.
Kyle’s eyes flicked around the room, zeroing in on a man in white who blended into the decor with all but his eyes that flitted from table to table. Now, they landed on Kyle.
“Li, vieni qui.” He called in Italian, beckoning the manager over in a cool tone.
“Kyle, please don’t.” I put my hand on his arm, but he ignored me.
The man halted a few paces away. I could see our waiter rushing for the kitchen. I didn’t blame him. That’s where I’d be heading too.
“Sì, signore.” The man kept his voice cool and calm, a talent I envied.
“You call this veal? I wouldn’t feed it to my dogs, let alone a homeless beggar! Here, you eat it,” he said, thrusting his fork with a piece of meat to the manager.
My cheeks burned. How could Kyle say such a thing? And to the manager? Every eye was on the confrontation. My eyes slid to the table, and I slunk down in my seat, unable to watch the rest.
The manager shook his head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see how tight he gripped his other hand, whether out of annoyance or fear I couldn’t tell. “I am sorry, signore. I will inform the chef right away of your displeasure, and you will have a replacement momentarily.”
Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “How do you think my father, Senator Harrington, would feel if he knew Valacari’s was serving food of this caliber?”
The man’s eyes widened considerably. “Please, signore. That is not necessary. This meal is on us. Again, my deepest apologies, Mr. Harrington.” He nodded in my direction. “Signorina.”
He gathered the two plates and disappeared behind swinging doors.
“You didn’t need to do that,” I whispered. All I wanted was to flee the restaurant, not to wait for more food, even if my mouth watered at the idea of the tiramisu.
“They should’ve been more careful.” His voice was hard-edg
ed, his eyes glued to the swinging door. For a split second, I was afraid he was going after the waiter, like he had Todd, but he stayed in his seat.
People whispered around us, staring in our direction. Every second felt like ten minutes. I changed my mind about dessert. It wasn’t worth the eyes boring into my back or Kyle losing his temper again. “Can we just leave, please?”
“No. You’re getting your food.” Kyle crossed his arms.
I leaned back in my chair to wait out the awkwardness. I guess I’d get my dessert after all. Almost as if my thoughts were manifested, our original waiter brought out a double-sized portion of my meal, I cringed at the mound of veal.
I pushed it away. “Can you put that in a to-go box?” I needed it out of my sight before I really did hurl.
Kyle’s eyes narrowed on my plate. I held my breath of more verbal assault, but it didn’t come. Instead, his lips twisted in a self-satisfied smile, almost like he was proud of my refusal. An icy sensation slid down my spine, but the waiter distracted me from my dread.
“Si,” the waiter quickly placed it back on the serving tray and placed the tiramisu on the table before me.
It was a giant, multi-layered cake topped with powdered espresso and decadent chocolate shavings. It looked divine, and I welcomed the sweet smell. I was about to pick up my fork and dig in when a chair screeched along the tile and broke through my tranquility. My eyes flicked to Kyle as did everyone else’s.
Please, no. Not again.
Kyle stood, letting his napkin slide off his lap and onto the floor. “My date has lost her appetite. Box it all up. We’ll wait up front.”
I would have sunk under the table if Kyle didn’t drag me out of my seat. I’m sure I was three different shades of Tuscany red.
CHAPTER 8—Movie Surprise
The movie house lobby was practically empty. There were a few people in line and a few stragglers at the concessions stand, but that was to be expected from a small theater that only played three movies at a time. Plus, we arrived twenty minutes early. I leaned against the wall between two posters while Kyle bought our tickets. He still wanted the movie choice to be a surprise. At this point, I didn’t care which movie he chose as long as it wasn’t Drake.
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