He chuckles. “He and my mother have been trying to force me down the aisle since I was twenty-one, but I never felt ready.”
“And you’re ready now?”
“No,” he tells me honestly. “But if I don’t look like I’m at least making an effort to give my mother grandbabies, I think she’s going to lose her mind.”
It’s my turn to laugh as I take another drink. “My mom is the same way, but she’s way more focused on Cruz and Riley right now, which is a nice change.”
“Does she know you signed up for the matchmaker?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t want to give her false hope.”
“Maybe I should have taken that route. I’ve had thirty-three messages from her since I landed this afternoon.”
“Mafia moms are a different breed.”
“Are they ever.” He takes a long drink from his glass. “This is your first matchmaker date?”
I nod. “It is. I was surprised how quickly they worked, to be honest.”
“So was I. I thought it would be months before I’d hear anything.”
I open my mouth to respond but snap it shut when the waitress comes to take our orders. He orders a steak, medium rare, with vegetables instead of fries, a red flag to my carb-loving heart.
For a moment I consider ordering a salad. It’s the appropriate choice, but there’s no way we’re having a second date, so I might as well have something I’ll enjoy. Plus, do I really want to set a precedent from the first date that I’ll always eat like a rabbit? Hard pass.
“Can I please have the fettuccine carbonara with parmesan on the side?”
Her perfectly shaped eyebrow quirks at my order, but she jots it down, throws another flirty look at Nico, and heads toward the kitchen.
I glance across the table at my smirking date. “Didn’t expect me to order pasta?”
He shakes his head. “My dates usually nibble at a piece of lettuce, and the sight makes me hungry on their behalf.”
“I’m glad I can break that streak then.”
The further we get into our date, the more it becomes apparent that while Nico and I are actually compatible, it’s not romantically.
We never run out of things to talk about, but there’s no spark, and we’re both perfectly aware of that fact, even if neither of us has voiced it.
He’s sipping top-shelf whiskey, while I’ve stuck to red wine, knowing it will put me to sleep tonight instead of dwelling on the fact that once again, I’ve failed.
It’s rare I allow something like this to get to me anymore, but the fact that my brother met his perfect match at the altar while my first matchmaker date has been anticlimactic at best is weighing on me.
“When are you heading back to Vegas?” I ask.
“Tonight. I have a meeting first thing in the morning that couldn’t be moved. Plus, I don’t do great in the rain.”
A laugh tumbles from me. “Seattle definitely isn’t the place for you then.”
He shakes his head, a wide smile tugging at his lips. Now that I’ve taken the pressure off, I see Nico in a different light.
Where he seemed cocky when we first sat down, now I see that that’s the mask he shows the world. It’s a skill you learn early in Mafia life, a defensive mechanism that becomes second nature. I hope he finds his match, because I have a feeling he’ll be good to whoever it may be.
“There’s a reason I live in the desert.”
His brow drops into a frown as he fishes his phone from his pocket, and he sighs. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”
“Life of a Mafia boss,” I quip.
