Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 (40 page)

“Those two.” Sada shook her head and made a lame attempt to look disgusted, but her lips curled with amusement in spite of her words. “Like a pair of randy teenagers all the time. That daughter of mine has no decorum where your son is concerned, Edie.”

“I know.” Edie’s smile blossomed. “Isn’t it grand? They’re so happy together. And twins!”

She clapped her hands, giddy. “We’re having twins!”

All eyes turned to Maddie, and Brenna smirked. “You’re next in line to produce adorable offspring. I hope you and Cal don’t plan on waiting too long to procreate.”

“Oh, sweet Lord,” Maddie said. “Let’s just get through the wedding ceremony, okay? I can’t worry about babies today.”

“On that note, I’ll leave you ladies.” Brenna blew kisses across the room. “I’ve got a cake to make glorious.”

***

“You sure you’re not nervous?” Dante asked Maddie’s husband-to-be before taking a bite out of a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“I’m not nervous.” Caleb ripped open a sugar packet, dumped it into a tall glass, and stirred the beverage with a straw. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

Dante grinned. “Because you just put sugar in my Coke.

Caleb’s eyes widened and he stared at the glass. He released the straw and ran his hands over his face. “Okay, maybe a little nervous.” He grabbed his phone and shot off a text, snatched it up when it buzzed a few seconds later.

“Maddie? What’s she say?”

“Nothing I can repeat to you.” Cal smiled and relaxed back into the booth. “Her crazy mother taught her how to sext. I never know what to expect when Maddie texts me now. Yesterday she sent me a picture of--you know what? Never mind.”

Dante laughed and shook his head. “Lucky bastard.”

Cal grinned and tugged a slice of pizza from the tray. “How are things going with the Bistro?”

“Fantastic. We’ve been busy as hell since we opened. I knew I’d pull people in for dinner, but it turns out the bar is where I’m making my money.”

“I’m not surprised. The only other bar is that place outside of town with the sawdust on the floors. What’s it called?”

“Boot & Spur Tavern.”

“That’s right, the Boot & Spur. Not exactly the same crowd as your place.”

“Christ, I hope not. Boot & Spur is a popular spot, though. I go sit at their bar sometimes just to get a handle on their clientele and how they manage things. They have line dancing on Wednesdays, a live band on Friday and Saturday nights. And their wings aren’t half bad.” Dante shrugged his shoulders and grabbed another slice, munched on a wayward piece of pepperoni. “I’m noticing a lot of bar business at my place after five, mostly suits stopping by for a drink on their way home. That’s what I didn’t expect. I figured on a lot of couples for dinner, especially on the weekends, but the barstools are full almost every night, right up till close.”

“Your bar manager might have something to do with that.”

“Ah, yes, the fair Roxanne.” Dante’s smiled widened. “I poached her from Chez Eloise. They had her working the hostess stand.” He rolled his eyes. “The woman attended a bartending school in Atlanta and her resume includes the Buckhead Ritz. I’m lucky to have her.”

“How are you handling both restaurants? Must be tough to keep so many balls in the air.”

“It is, but help is on the way. Trina is moving from North Carolina to manage the Pizzeria so I can focus on the Bistro.”

Cal sat up from his slouch and leaned on the table, his eyes gone wide. “Are you out of your mind?”

“What’s wrong with Trina? I thought you liked her.”

“I do. That isn’t the point.” Cal shook his head, blew out an exasperated laugh, slumped back in the booth, and regarded Dante with a bemused smile. “How is that even going to work?”

“It’s a business arrangement.”

“Does Trina know that?”

“Of course.” Dante gave Cal a look. “She doesn’t want to get back together any more than I do. It’ll be fine. We’ve been apart longer than we were together, and we’re friends. Anyway, she’s looking for work, and I can use the help. And she’s a top notch restaurant manager. Works her ass off.”

“And, if I recall, a very nice ass it is.”

“On that we agree.” Dante caught the attention of the harried waitress and motioned for her to bring the check. He looked around the dining room with a critical eye. “This place isn’t bad, but it won’t last. The pizza is run-of-the-mill, too much sauce, not enough cheese. Too expensive. Cleanliness, I’d rate maybe a five. Their kitchen is probably full of salmonella.”

“Well, that’s just great. Why did we come here if it sucks?”

“Scoping out the competition,” Dante said. “I do it all the time.”

“Well, I better not leave here with food poisoning. My wedding night plans do not include time in the ER.”

“You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare get you sick today. Maddie would kill me.” Dante picked up his Coke and caught himself before taking a drink, remembering that Cal had dumped sugar in it. He set it down and reached for the water glass instead. “So,” he began, hoping he sounded nonchalant, “is Brenna bringing a plus-one to the wedding?”

“Beats me,” Cal said. “You want me to find out for you, Romeo?”

Dante motioned to the waitress again. “She hates me.”

“The waitress? Nah. She’s just busy.”

“Not the waitress. Brenna. She--” Dante snapped his mouth shut when Caleb’s grin broke free. “You’re a dick.” Dante fired a balled up napkin at his friend’s face.

Cal caught the missile and tossed it on the table, laughing. “Why do you play games with her? You two are ridiculous, always competing over which one of you is better at everything.”

“If it weren’t for those stupid competitions, I’d get no action out of Brenna at all. I just told you, she hates me, and I can’t figure out why.”

“Have you ever asked her?”

“She gives me some crap about my garage light waking her up in the middle of the night, and she hates it when the neighbors come over and start a party in the yard on Friday nights. Not that there will be any more impromptu parties. I don’t have much downtime, not with both restaurants going full bore.”

“What’s with the light? What light?”

“When I’m working on restoring a car, sometimes I work in the wee hours. You know? If I can’t sleep.”

“And the light wakes her up?”

“So she says.” Dante fiddled with the discarded wrap from his straw, began tying it in knots. “But I don’t see how it’s possible. And the other thing she says is that I ignore the neighborhood covenants.”

“Well, do you?”

Dante shrugged. “So what if I do? No one cares but Brenna.”

Cal stared at Dante. “Are you in middle school, or what? You think sticking her pigtails in the inkwell will earn you play points? Stop deliberately annoying the woman, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m nice to her. Even when we have our silly competitions, I go out of my way to be nice. But she treats me like a piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe. If I could just figure out why--really why, I mean. Because her reasons are just so much bullshit.”

“I think the problem is that she’s the only woman you’ve ever wanted that didn’t drop at your feet.” Cal pointed at Dante with his straw. “You’re used to winning. Maybe Brenna’s unwinnable. She’s your Kobayashi Maru.”

Dante dropped his head back and laughed. “Seriously? You’re quoting Star Trek now?”

“Why not, when it fits?”

“You’re just saying that to throw down a challenge. I don’t believe in an unwinnable scenario, and you know it.”

Cal shrugged. “So, stop mooning after Brenna and either give it up or make a move. How long has it been? Four years? Five?”

Five,
Dante thought. Five long and frustrating years since the first time he laid eyes on Brenna Kinkaid.

Dante would remember the moment forever. He’d been in his driveway, working on a beauty of a machine he’d picked up for peanuts from some old guy’s barn over in Dahlonega. The man had died, and the wife didn’t care what she had, just wanted it gone--a ’63 Corvair Monza Spyder convertible. Dante’s head had been crammed under the hood for half an hour, and when he looked up, there she was, standing in the driveway next door wearing heeled boots and a red dress that molded to her substantial curves like honey on bread.

Dumbstruck, he’d watched her shake her river of black hair over her shoulders, and he held his breath when she strode toward him with the confident swagger of a runway model.

“Brenna Kinkaid,” she’d said, and held out her hand to shake. “I’m your new neighbor.”

Blue. Her eyes were blue. Bluer than blue. Purple-blue. Was that even a color? It must be, because that’s what her eyes were. A man could drown in those eyes, never come up for air again, and die happy.

He shut his mouth, when he realized it was hanging open, and dropped his eyes to the sparkling necklace at her throat. A Celtic cross accentuated with diamonds, or something that looked like diamonds. What the hell did he know about gemstones? Whatever, it was as eye-catching as the woman who wore it, and its intricate design, he noted with a shock of surprise, bore a close resemblance to the tattoo over his heart.

He wondered if a man had given it to her--husband, boyfriend? God, he hoped not.

“My eyes are up here, Neanderthal. Are you a mute?”

“Am I--what? Oh, sorry.” Dante reached out to shake her hand then pulled back at the last minute, holding his hands palms up. “Grease.”

Sweet mother of God, she was gorgeous.

What did she say her name was again?

“Your name is Grease?”

“What? No. Caravicci. Dante.” He laughed at himself and shook his head. He’d never been so flummoxed in his life. He knew he was acting like an idiot but had somehow been rendered powerless to stop. “Please let me start over. Dante Caravicci, and I’m covered in grease, so you probably don’t want me to touch you.”

“Why are you working on your car in the driveway like this? It’s on blocks. I thought that was against the covenants.”

“The what?”

“The neighborhood covenants. No junk cars in view of the street. Page four, paragraph six.”

“Are you serious, right now?” Dante laughed.

She didn’t laugh back. “I didn’t spend 200K on a townhouse just to have a junkyard next door.”

Dante bristled. “Junkyard? This baby is a ’63 Corvair, lady. She may not look like much now, but when I’m through--”

“Please move it into your garage where it can’t be seen,” she said, her tone prim. “Page four, paragraph six.”

Rendered mute for a second time, Dante stared at her, his jaw slack. No one had ever complained about his hobby before. He kept the vehicle covered when he wasn’t working on it. It didn’t constitute an eyesore. What was the big deal?

“Why do gorgeous women always fill their tanks with gallons of Batshit Crazy?”

Those beautiful eyes narrowed and darkened like a midnight storm. When she spoke again it was through gritted teeth. “And why am I stuck next door to a man with the manners of a Neanderthal?”

She’d turned and stalked away and, even through the red haze of annoyance, he’d had to admire her swaying ass.

Maybe he was a Neanderthal after all.

The waitress dropped the check on the table, and Dante snapped back to the present. She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to wait. I promise we’ll do better next time.” She flashed another smile and ran off.

“No, I’ve got it,” Dante said when Cal dug into his pocket. “It was your last meal as a single man. The least I can do is pay for it.” He dropped fifty dollars on the table and stood to leave.

“Hey, that’s more than double the bill. Don’t you want your change?”

“Nah.” Dante glanced at the waitress, now juggling a platter of pizza in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other. He regarded her with sympathy and shook his head. “Poor kid. She’s been the only server on the floor the whole time we’ve been here. She earned the tip.”

The two men walked out to the parking lot and climbed into a 1976 Pontiac Trans Am, a vehicle Dante had restored to damn near perfect.

“You ready to head back to the house?” Dante asked.

“I guess.” Cal wiped his hands on his denim-clad thighs. “I’m not supposed to see Maddie before the ceremony, but I don’t know how to avoid it. She insisted on getting married at home, and we both live there.” He shook his head and shrugged. “I’m going to end up getting in trouble for something I can’t do anything about.”

“That’s the curse of belonging to the Man Club.” Dante backed out of the parking space and regarded his friend. “We’re always in trouble for something.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lisa Ricard Claro is an award-winning author and Pushcart Prize nominee with published articles and stories spanning multiple media. She resides in Georgia with her husband of more than three decades and counting, is mother to three (a ruggedly handsome son and two stunningly beautiful daughters (she might be a little biased), and dreams of one day living at the beach. Seriously dreams of it. As in, she's already decorating her dream beach house. In addition to an array of sand dollars and seashells, she keeps a framed sign hanging in her office:
Sandy Toes and Salty Kisses Welcome Here.

Claro is also a lover of dogs and cats, and has a heart for rescues. This is why you will find a rescued pet companion in every one of her books. Sometimes they are part of the story line (Pirate the dog, in
Love Built to Last
), and sometimes they're already ensconced in their forever home with one of Claro’s characters (Pavarotti the cat, in
Love to Win
). As you read Claro’s books, watch for the rescues!

While Claro is a fan of storytelling in all genres, Romance is her favorite because she believes everyone deserves love and a happily-ever-after. But she adores a little mystery now and then, too, so keep an eye out for her authorship of a whodunit one of these days soon.

GENRE: CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE/WOMEN’S FICTION

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. The publisher does not have any control over or assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.