“Let’s go, big guy,” she murmurs.
People have commented on that stuff my whole life. I’m too big. Too rough. Too awkward.
But from Sara? It feels like a compliment.
3
SARA
The ice creamshop that Romeo takes me to is the best. Hands down, point blank. I’ve been here before, and the mango sorbet is out of this world.
We find a table in the window. Even sitting, he towers over me, and his shoulders are so wide that I can’t see anyone at the tables behind him. He’s still wearing the black T-shirt, and when he removes the leather jacket, I’m too busy admiring his biceps to pay much attention to the way he folds it neatly over the back of his seat.
He studies the menu like he’ll be tested on the flavors when the server comes over, avoiding eye contact. I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to check him out unobserved. His green eyes are framed by thick black lashes that any woman would pay good money for. His olive skin is smooth and flawless. He has a tiny mole in the left corner of his mouth. A beauty spot. A gift from the angels when they realized what they’d created.
After all the studying, he orders a strawberry gelato, notoppings. I realize that I’m practically drooling, and not over the ice cream display in the freezers under the counter.
“Mango sorbet please.” My voice cracks. I need to get a grip.
Romeo stacks the menus in the little wooden stand on the table, making sure they’re precisely aligned. Then he faces me, and it’s like watching a little kid figuring out if he should speak up or keep quiet.
“How long have you—” we both start at the same time.
“You go first.” He watches me so closely, I swear he can see right through to my soul.
Heaven help me if he knew what I was thinking when I was looking at his muscles.
“How long have you worked for the Rossis?” I ask.
I steeple my fingers and rest my chin on them. It keeps my gaze focused on his face instead of anything lower than his neck. He smells good. Clean, woody, with a hint of citrus that I could lick from his skin…
Jeez!I smile and hang off his every word, praying that I don’t drool in front of him. Romeo could have any girl he wanted. He’s probably dated fashion models and actresses. Gia Rossi probably warned him that he was slumming it when he asked me out. So, I need to keep my shit together so that I don’t scare him off before our desserts arrive.
“Two years.” He swallows hard. “They’re good bosses.”
I nod. I want to listen to him talk while I soak up everything about him and remind myself thatheasked me out.Me. And he’s still here.
I haven’t been on a date in a while. That’s an understatement. I haven’t been on a date in years. I never get asked out by the right kind of men, and I don’t have the patience for being messed around by assholes. I saw it happen too many times to my mom when I was growing up. Even now that my mom is in her mid-40s, she’s still kissing her way through a whole heap of frogs while she waits for the right man to come along. Because she still believes in love and ‘happy ever after’. Hans Christian Andersen has a lot to answer for.
“I was in the Marines for five years.”
He’s warming up to the conversation now that our desserts have arrived.
“That explains the jacket.” I gesture to the neatly folded garment over the back of the seat with my long-handled spoon.
He follows my gaze and smiles, and my tummy goes all gooey inside. “It’s a tough habit to break. I liked it, you know. The regimented routine, no room for error.”
It makes him sound like a fish floundering in the wrong part of the ocean when left to his own devices, and my heart reaches out to him. I can imagine Elio Rossi finding him in the street, dragging him back to his place, giving him a list of chores, and Romeo carrying them out while whistling a happy tune.
Even the spoon seems to disappear inside his huge fist.
“Why did you quit?”
“I didn’t.” He swallows a mouthful of gelato, and I can see the pleasure all over his face. “I got injured.”
There’s a long pause, and I wonder if he’s debating how much to tell me. All kinds of things cross my mind. Maybe he was paralyzed for a while. Maybe he has metal plates holding his spine together which means that he isn’t flexible in bed anymore. Maybe he can’t have kids.
I mean, it’s shocking how far a girl’s imagination can run over a mango sorbet with the hottest giant in town.
