Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 75836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Awesome. I guess I’ll get dressed, then.”
“Unless you want to fly to Florida and eat at a beachfront bar, I’d say that’s a good idea.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh as her legs walked out of my view.
I usually went to dinner with her when I did an odd job. This was nothing new. Luke razzed me for it, but I wasn’t interested, and I made it clear to her every time. We almost always ended up having a good time. Kind of like brother and sister, though I wouldn’t really know, since I was an only child. To her credit, Leena hadn’t gone all stalker on anyone since Luke. We all guessed she’d learned her lesson.
A half hour later, I’d finished the job. I stood, cracked my back, and turned on the faucet to check for leaks.
Good as gold.
Who needed a plumber, anyway?
Leena walked back into the kitchen, this time in ripped jeans, biker boots, and a black tank.
“All good,” I said, turning off the faucet.
“Awesome.” She handed me a crisp Benjamin. “Ready? I feel like pizza tonight.”
17
Riley
Parking was an issue in a small town. You’d think I’d be used to that, coming from New York and all, but in New York I never drove. I had a driver, and on those rare occasions when he was off duty and I needed to get somewhere, I took a cab.
Sumter Falls didn’t have any designated parking areas other than on the side streets. I found a space and walked over a block to get to the pizza place. Not a huge deal, except my flip flops weren’t exactly comfortable.
Why did I own a pair of shoes that wasn’t comfortable?
I should be used to that as well. Some of those stilettos I paraded around in on the runway were lethal weapons, and none of them were comfortable. Discomfort seemed to be a requirement for high fashion.
I thought again of Fredricka and my contract with Dominique in Paris.
Not what I wanted to be thinking about at the moment. Besides, I was leaving in the morning. I’d call Fredricka when I was back in Manhattan and tell her to postpone the shoot in Paris. My father had just died, after all, and I needed to pay my respects.
Yeah, I was good at lying. I could even shed a few tears if I had to.
I opened the wooden door to Rosati’s. The robust aroma of tomato sauce and melted cheese drifted toward me. I inhaled.
Food. Food was good. Dominique might not even want me once they saw how much weight I’d gained on this little excursion.
I didn’t rightfully care at the moment.
How much time had passed since my last pizza?
A year, at least, and probably more.
I walked toward the hostess.
“Good evening,” she said. “Just one for dinner?”
“Yes, just me tonight.”
I didn’t mind eating alone. In fact, I enjoyed it. Problem was that back home, someone always recognized me so I couldn’t enjoy my own company.
Not so in this little town. I’d only met a few people, and what were the chances of any of them being here tonight?
“Right this way,” the hostess said, and then she looked over her shoulder as the door opened again. “Be right with you, Matt.”
Matt?
Couldn’t be. Matt was a fairly common name. Right?
Don’t turn around, Riley. Just don’t.
But I did.
Sure enough, there was Matteo Rossi, his long hair up in a messy blond man bun.
And he wasn’t alone.
A blond woman stood beside him. She was attractive in an unconventional way, and she had a killer body.
Great. Just great. Should I leave? The thought had merit, but I’d be more conspicuous that way.
“Here you go.” The hostess led me to a small table near the back of the restaurant.
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking the menu she handed to me.
“Adriano will be with you in a minute. He’ll be your server.”
“Thanks.” I sat down—in the chair facing the back so I wouldn’t see Matt and his date—and perused the menu.
Out of habit, my gaze went directly to the “healthy options” portion. Rosati’s idea of a healthy option was a thin-crust pizza with no cheese. Just their signature sundried tomato marinara, shredded roast chicken breast, and an array of veggies.
It actually sounded pretty good, but I hadn’t come here for a healthy option. I’d come here for gooey, cheesy pizza.
“Hi there.”
I jerked upward and met the gaze of—
Wow.
My waiter was freaking gorgeous. Short dark hair and dark eyes, he looked like a Mediterranean god.
He smiled, and he was even more dazzling. “I’m Adriano. Do you have any questions about the menu?”
“Nope. It’s pretty clear cut.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it is. Can I get you something to drink?”
“A glass of wine, I think. Do you have a list?”
He laughed again. “We do. It’s a piece of paper with the words red and white on it.”