The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

by Michelle Douglas

  He winced. ‘“It was the worst of times.”’

  She rose. ‘“Where’s Papa going with that axe?”’ she growled. ‘And in case you’re wondering,’ she shot over her shoulder as she marched towards the kitchen, ‘that’s from Charlotte’s Web.’

  He started to laugh. And then he turned his attention back to the cake. As he ate, the knot between his shoulder blades started to loosen. Neen had called the staff my boys. She was more invested than he could ever have hoped for.

  He licked cream off his spoon. She’d called him a friend. Warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around the café and grinned. It suddenly struck him that he felt more at home here in Neen’s café—and there was no doubt in his mind that it was hers—than he ever had in his mother’s.

  And just for a moment he allowed himself to enjoy it without guilt.

  * * *

  Neen pronounced opening day a roaring success. Same with Thursday. On Friday, though, right in the middle of the lunch rush, Travis received a phone call.

  He shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. ‘Neen, I have to go.’

  She turned from the salad she was tossing. ‘What? Go where? We’re in the middle of the lunch rush, Travis. We need you.’

  ‘There’s trouble at home.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’

  He shot her an agonised glance. ‘It’s my little brother.’

  Right. She pointed a finger at him. ‘Give me thirty seconds.’

  She marched out of the kitchen, told the other boys that they were in charge of the dining area and then returned and checked the orders neatly lined up. ‘That’s table four’s Caesar salad and quiche?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Okay, I have it under control. Go, Travis.’

  * * *

  She threw herself into keeping up with the hectic pace of the orders. Word had spread and the fact the dining area was packed was a good thing—an excellent thing—but Travis’s emergency couldn’t have come at a busier time. She just hoped the boys were coping in the café without her.

  ‘What on earth...?’

  She didn’t even have time to glance up as Rico walked into the kitchen. She hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, and every nerve thrummed in sudden exhilaration, but she kept her attention on the omelette she was making.

  ‘Where the hell is Travis?’

  ‘An emergency at home. Something to do with his little brother.’

  Rico swore.

  More orders piled upon the board. Finally she glanced at Rico. ‘Your family owns a restaurant. You must have some kitchen-hand experience.’

  His lips twisted with a self-mockery she didn’t understand. ‘Not a skerrick.’

  This time it was she who swore. Still, he was her only option. ‘Lose the jacket and roll up your sleeves, D’Angelo. There’s no time like the present to learn. There’s a spare apron in the locker over there.’

  Rico amazed her. He was quick, deft and he followed her instructions to the letter. In fact he was brilliant.

  When the worst of the lunch rush was over, she turned to him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shining. Her heart stuttered and her pulse pounded. She’d never seen him look more...alive!

  He bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘What’s next?’

  It made her laugh. ‘What? You’ve not had enough punishment for one day?’

  ‘This is brilliant, Neen.’ He clenched a hand. ‘All this...the rush and the heat! I knew this had to be satisfying. I knew it!’

  Rico looked more alive than anyone she’d ever seen. Her breath jammed in her throat. Heat trailed a path down her neck to her breasts...and lower.

  ‘What?’

  That was when she realised she was staring.

  ‘You’re a big fat liar!’ She punched him on the arm. ‘You do so know your way around a kitchen.’

  His grin faded. He didn’t laugh or even smile. He just stared at her with those fathomless eyes of his and a mouth that seemed suddenly vulnerable.

  ‘My mother wouldn’t let me within ten feet of the restaurant kitchen. And whenever she caught me messing about in our kitchen at home she’d punish me.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘But why?’

  He remained silent.

  No curiosity! She swallowed. ‘What about now, though? You live on your own now, right?’ Surely a little bit of curiosity wouldn’t hurt? ‘You must mess about in your own kitchen when you’re making dinner and whatnot.’ She risked a quick glance at his face before sliding two slices of sourdough piled high with chicken, avocado and cheese under the grill. ‘You do live alone, right? You don’t still live at home?’

  ‘Of course I don’t still live at home!’

  That was a relief.

  ‘I buy ready-made microwave meals.’

  She folded her arms. ‘You never cook?’

  ‘I never cook.’

  The sparkle had gone completely from his eyes. ‘Wow!’ she finally managed. ‘That’s amazing. Because, Rico, you have a real talent in the kitchen.’

  He grimaced. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to my mother.’

  He didn’t explain any further and she didn’t ask any more. She didn’t have the heart for it. She thought she might cry if she did. She merely zipped her hand across her mouth and tended to the toasted melt.

  After Luke had collected the order, she forced herself to turn to Rico. ‘About Monday night... If you want me to make my excuses to your mother...’

  ‘You think that’ll stop her?’

  ‘I...’

  His gaze gentled. ‘You’ll be a welcome addition to the family dinner, believe me. Also, my mother is an incredible cook, and you deserve to have someone wait on you for a change. I’d like you to come.’

  She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘In that case I’d love to.’ She suddenly frowned. ‘This isn’t a date, though, is it?’

  His lips twisted. ‘Not a chance. Friends, Neen, that’s all this is. I’ll pick you up at seven.’

  ‘Okay.’ Friends? She could do that.

  Rico unrolled his sleeves and shrugged back into his jacket. She tried not to stare at him but she couldn’t help it. She remembered the way he’d come alive and she moistened her lips.

  ‘Any time you want to drop in here and play out your dirty kitchen-hand fantasies, you’re most welcome.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  His lips lifted, but there was no answering smile in the dark depths of his eyes.

  She tried to pull off a philosophical shrug. It would be much, much better for her peace of mind if Rico stayed as far away from her kitchen as possible. But she doubted whether it would be better for his.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHEN RICO LEFT, Travis emerged from the shadows of the storeroom. Neen had a suspicion he’d been lurking there for some time, but she didn’t challenge him on it. Instead she called out a cheery, ‘Hello! Did you get everything sorted?’

  He sort of nodded, and then pointed back behind him. ‘Do you mind if my little brother hangs out in the courtyard until my shift ends? I swear he won’t be any trouble.’

  She frowned, hesitated and then went to peer out through the back door. A bedraggled kid sat on the bottom step, disconsolately bouncing a tennis ball between his feet. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  ‘Wow, Travis, when you said little brother you weren’t joking, were you?’ His brother couldn’t be more than seven years old. When she turned, she recognised stark fear in Travis’s face and her heart clenched. ‘Why don’t you set him up at one of the corner tables with something to eat, a milkshake and a magazine or something?’

  Travis brightened. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’
She went to turn away and then swung back. ‘Travis, are the two of you safe?’

  His chin shot up. ‘’Course.’

  She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. ‘Why didn’t you want Rico to know about this, then?’

  ‘Look, things are bad at home right now, but I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.’ He set his shoulders. ‘Then I can take Joey away from all that and become his legal guardian.’

  ‘Rico would support that.’ He might not be warm and fuzzy with the boys, but he had their respect and, so she’d thought, their trust.

  ‘If he knows how bad it is he’ll call Social Services. Look, I know he’s a good guy and all, but it’s his job. They’ll put Joey in foster care...’ His hands clenched. ‘Six weeks, Neen. All I need is six weeks.’

  Her eyes burned. Sometimes all a person needed to get them through was one person to love—the way Travis obviously loved his little brother. The way she’d loved her grandfather.

  And the way she’d wanted to be loved by Chris.

  She suppressed a shudder and scanned the courtyard and the lane beyond. Everything looked normal. Nothing leaped out at her and said Beware. It didn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from prickling.

  She dragged her attention back to Travis. ‘Can you swear to me that neither one of you is in physical danger?’

  ‘I can keep us away from it. I promise.’

  ‘If you get into any kind of trouble, will you promise to call me? You have my mobile number?’

  He nodded.

  She let out a breath, but it didn’t help ease the tightness in her chest. ‘Okay, then.’

  ‘Thanks, Neen.’

  ‘I think it’s probably best for Joey to come here after school Wednesday through Friday, don’t you?’

  He stared at her, wary. ‘You sure that’s okay?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Eventually he sort of grinned at her. ‘Hey, Joey, come and meet Ms Cuthbert.’

  * * *

  Rico turned in at a harbourside mansion in the well-to-do suburb of Sandy Point and Neen’s jaw dropped. ‘You grew up here?’

  He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘Where did you think I grew up?’

  ‘Given your do-gooder tendencies, I expected the ghetto.’

  One side of his mouth hooked up. ‘Don’t let my mother hear you say that.’

  That smile... She swallowed. It could make her heart stretch out and bask in warmth. If she let it.

  She dragged her gaze away. Not that she had any intention of letting it.

  Still, tonight it was hard to deny Rico’s magnetism. She’d seen him in his professional no-nonsense suits, all buttoned-up and driven. She’d seen him in paint-splattered jeans where he should’ve looked casual and easy, but somehow still hadn’t fitted in. But tonight he wore a pair of sand-coloured chinos, a blue polo shirt and...

  Her fingers curled into her palms. Tonight his potent masculinity beat at her. Tonight he was a man she could suddenly imagine spending more time with.

  And that was a dangerous thought.

  They snapped away from each other at the same moment, realising they’d been studying each other for too long.

  ‘C’mon,’ he growled. ‘Let’s get this dinner over with.’

  ‘You’re expecting a fun evening, then?’

  He didn’t reply.

  It didn’t take Neen long to warm to Rico’s family. He had two older brothers—both married—who worked in the family restaurant and who were obviously very happy there too. As the manager of Rico’s café, she was instantly considered a kindred spirit.

  Rico hung back in the background and didn’t speak much. She recalled Bonita’s hard glares, the cutting remarks she’d aimed at Rico at the café, and didn’t blame him for not talking much, for holding back. She remembered him in the kitchen on Friday, the way he’d glowed with life and passion. Why hadn’t he been allowed to follow in his older brothers’ footsteps?

  She might be able to bite her tongue, but it didn’t stop the question hammering away at her.

  ‘So what do you think of my food, Neen?’ Bonita demanded halfway through the meal.’

  ‘Delicious! I’ve never had a better veal scallopine in my life.’

  Bonita beamed. ‘Ah, boys, Neen has a golden touch with the sweets. Ah, yes.’ She waggled a finger at Neen. ‘I’ve had my spies bring me reports of your cheesecakes and sticky toffee pudding and key lime tart.’ She sent a sly glance at Rico. ‘I might try to poach her for my restaurant.’

  He stiffened. ‘Don’t even think about it!’

  ‘I can pay her twice what you can.’

  Neen jumped in. ‘I’m committed to Rico’s project for a year. I’ve given my word. And the work is interesting—I’m enjoying it.’

  And it had taken her mind off her worries. It occurred to her that she didn’t start so much at loud noises now, at least not while she was at the café. Her spare moments were filled with café plans rather than fear...or angst over her grandfather’s will. She drew in a breath and reminded herself that she had a lot to be grateful for.

  ‘Humph!’ Bonita scowled at Rico, then transferred her glare to Neen. ‘If you change your mind...’

  Rico glared at his plate. Neen bit back a sigh. Why was his relationship with his family so strained? Oh, he was complicated, there was no doubt about that, and Bonita was certainly overbearing, but she and her older sons seemed to have a great relationship. What had Rico done to deserve Bonita’s unending disapproval?

  ‘Neen, maybe you can talk some sense into my youngest son?’

  Beside her, Rico stiffened. She wanted to reach beneath the tablecloth and squeeze his hand. It didn’t seem fair that everyone in the room should be lined up against him. Especially...especially when he worked so hard and his job was so thankless.

  She thought back to her brand-new security system and swallowed. ‘About...?’

  ‘About this ridiculous job of his!’

  She set her knife and fork down. Rico had provided her with self-defence lessons, he’d given her an interesting job and he was making a difference to every single boy who worked at the café.

  ‘What’s wrong with his job?’ Sure, he needed to pull back a bit, ease up and learn to relax, but couldn’t his family see what an important difference Rico made?

  ‘He works with low-lifes and criminals.’

  She kept her voice steady. ‘I’d hoped I’d already reassured you that the boys who work in the café are neither of those things.’

  ‘Then they’re the exception!’ Bonita glared at Rico. ‘He should’ve been a doctor. He had the brains. It was his father’s dearest wish. We scrimped and saved and worked our fingers to the bone so we could put him through medical school.’

  Neen frowned and tried to deflect the conversation. ‘So...you didn’t raise your family in this lovely house, here?’

  ‘Goodness, no.’ Bonita named an outlying suburb known for its high crime rate. ‘That’s where we lived. And when my darling Nico died I promised him I would send Rico to medical school.’

  Beside her, Rico sat straight and silent. Neen tried deflecting the conversation for a second time. ‘How old were the boys when their father died?’

  ‘Rico was only fifteen.’

  Her heart clenched. ‘It must’ve been terribly difficult, bringing up three teenage sons on your own.’

  Bonita’s face suddenly sagged. ‘I let them down. I failed them.’

  ‘You did no such thing,’ Rico said, quietly but firmly.

  ‘Did you go to medical school?’ she shot back, with such bitterness it made Neen wince.

  Neen swallowed. ‘I think to be a doctor a person needs to have a great desire for it. It’s a vocation.’ She couldn’t see Rico as a doctor. His bedside ma
nner would be appalling. ‘Surely...’ She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Surely you’d rather see him happy doing a job he loves than unhappy as a doctor? And he’s making such a difference. He’s doing so much good for so many people and—’

  ‘Do you think he’s happy?’ Bonita folded her arms and glared.

  Neen’s heart sank then, because the answer was a resounding no. Rico was not happy.

  She glanced at him. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he defend himself?

  ‘I think,’ she managed, ‘that Rico is a grown man who is free to make his own decisions and that we should respect that.’

  ‘You are a good girl, Neen, but you aren’t a mother.’

  There didn’t seem to be much to say after that.

  * * *

  ‘Well, that was fun,’ Neen said with a brisk clap of her hands as Rico pulled out of his mother’s driveway and turned his car towards Bellerive, on the other side of the harbour.

  He knew she was trying to make him laugh, but that was beyond him. He’d thought her presence tonight would put a lid on his mother’s usual harangues. Instead it had only made her worse. And, as usual, he’d had to grit his teeth and let her vent, because there was too much truth in all she’d said. He had let her down. It was only fair he pay the price.

  His hands tightened about the steering wheel. But Neen didn’t need to hear about his problems. She had enough trouble of her own.

  She angled her watch in the moonlight. A glance at the dashboard told him it was ten o’clock. The tiniest sigh escaped her.

  ‘What?’ he demanded.

  She shook her head and straightened. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Neen.’

  She let forth with a gusty sigh. ‘It’s just that Mondays and Tuesdays are the equivalent of the weekend for me.’

  Bile burned his throat. ‘And I’ve ruined your Saturday night?’

  She turned in her seat to survey him more fully, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. ‘I know tonight was probably a nightmare for you, but it wasn’t so bad for me.’

  He glanced at her. It hadn’t been?

  ‘One’s own family is always more difficult to deal with than anyone else’s, don’t you think?’