Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
He glances over, and his gaze lingers a microsecond longer than necessary. “We can discuss it after dinner.” Nope. I’m too keyed up to wait until after dinner. Plus, I might just jump his bones, and I want business out of the way first.
“I’d rather discuss it now.”
He cracks his knuckles against the wheel. “The engine’s shot. Radiator’s leaking everywhere. We can get it running, but it probably won’t stay running for very long.”
“Ouch.” Honestly, I was expecting as much.
He shrugs. “But we’ll figure something out.”
I huff out a laugh, mentally watching my savings dwindle. My determination to ignore my trust fund is going to be sorely tested. “Okay.”
He gives me a look that is half challenge, half promise. I look away first.
The town blurs past as I stare out the window. The fancy bank screams insane wealth. There’s a cute flower shop, a coffee shop, and a dry cleaner run by someone’s retired grandma. Seth drives past it all and takes a left, tires whispering on the hot asphalt. Before I know it, we’re leaving Silver Spoon Falls and driving into the Halloween-obsessed town of Midnight Falls.
Seth eventually eases the car to a stop in front of a dimly lit building that resembles a mob front with its shadowy façade and mysterious aura. The parking lot is bustling with cars, their headlights casting long shadows across the gleaming asphalt, and I'm hopeful that this crowd means the food is good.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he says, voice low.
I lift my chin as my stomach growls, answering for me. “I’m starving.” For food and maybe a taste of Seth.
He likes that answer. I can tell. There’s a pulse in his jaw, a slight tightness in the way his hand clenches the wheel.
He slides out, comes around, and opens my door. When he offers his hand, I take it, finding his warm and solid grip, and I realize I never want to let go.
We stand there for a second, the sun setting fire to the horizon behind him. The wind picks up, whips my curls across my face, and he moves a hand to tuck them back, sending my heart into overdrive.
His fingers brush my cheek, and I want to say something clever, something to take the edge off, but nothing comes.
So, instead, I follow him into the restaurant, pulse hammering, every sense dialed up to eleven.
I don’t know where this is going, but I’m going along for the wild ride.
Inside, Antonio’s is a whirlwind of old-world Italian charm. The walls are packed with black-and-white photos of ancestors who seem as though they could be hiding from the law. Fairy lights are strung across the room, and the scent—garlic and oregano, with a touch of woodsmoke—envelops me, reminding me it’s been hours since I snacked on that granola bar.
Before I can adjust to the mood whiplash, a man the shape and density of a Roman centurion bursts out of the kitchen. He’s got slicked-back hair, gold bracelets crowding one wrist, and a face that is all smile and mustache.
He shouts, “Buona sera, signori!” like we’re part of his family. I half-expect him to kiss both my cheeks, but instead, he just claps Seth on the back so hard the man physically rocks forward. “Welcome in. Please, sit, sit!” Antonio gestures grandly to a cozy corner table, already set with gleaming silverware and a flickering candle. Seth pulls out my chair with a smooth motion, his eyes never leaving mine as I settle into the plush seat.
Antonio beams at us, his charm infectious. “What may I bring you this fine evening?”
Seth glances over at me to ask, “Do you mind if I order for us?”
“Sure.” I’m usually a “choose my own” type of girl, but nothing seems “normal” when I’m with Seth.
He gives me an intimate smile and leans back casually. “Start us off with some bruschetta and a bottle of your best red wine, Antonio.”
I smile, realizing that’s exactly what I would’ve ordered. “Sounds perfect.”
Antonio claps his hands together once before darting off to the kitchen, leaving us in the warm glow of the restaurant. As the chatter of other diners surrounds us, I find myself studying Seth’s profile in the soft light.
“So, is this place a regular haunt for you?” I ask, trying to break the comfortable silence between us.
Seth chuckles, his gaze softening. “I come here every now and then when I need a break from reality. It’s a hidden gem.”
I smile, feeling a flutter of excitement at being included in his secret refuge. “I’m glad you decided to share it with me.”
Our conversation flows effortlessly as we wait for our meal, sharing stories and laughter like old friends catching up after time apart. The bruschetta arrives first, a tantalizing aroma of toasted bread and fresh tomatoes drifting toward us.
Antonio reappears with the bottle of wine, expertly uncorking it and pouring us each a glass with a flourish. We order our main course, and he disappears once more into the bustling kitchen.