“Nothing.” I shook my head, dislodging the surprise before it could fully form. Of course he’d be fine with my kid cousin crashing our date. Why had I expected anything different?
“She likes pizza?” I glanced down, meeting Ella’s eager gaze. “Pizza is fine, right?”
Her nod came so vigorously I worried about whiplash. Obviously. What kid didn’t like pizza?
“Let me just grab my jacket,” Hayes said, disappearing back into the house.
I felt a small tug on my sleeve, and I leaned down. Ella’sbreath tickled my ear as she quietly whispered, “Heispretty.”
I pulled back slightly and gave her an approving nod. “You have good taste, kid.”
“What was that?” Hayes asked as he came back.
I straightened, schooling my expression into something innocent. “Nothing, you ready to go?”
The restaurant he chose wasn’t one of those chain places with arcade games and animatronic bands. It was smaller, tucked into a corner lot with string lights draped across the windows and the kind of worn brick interior that felt quietly charming and welcoming. The smell hit me first—yeast, tomato sauce, and wood smoke from the oven I could see blazing in the back corner, flames licking the edges of pizzas on long wooden paddles.
“This okay?” Hayes asked, one hand on the door.
Ella was already pressing her nose against the glass, her breath fogging the window. “They have a real fire,” she breathed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I nudged her gently forward as he held the door open.
The warmth inside wrapped around us like a blanket. A woman with flour dusted across her apron greeted Hayes by name, her accent thick and musical, like someone who’d learned English late enough that the old language still clung to her vowels.
“Mr. Hayes, no reservation tonight?”
“Last minute change of plans, Viola.” He smiled at her, easy and genuine. “Table for three?”
She looked at me, then at Ella, and something knowing sparkled in her eyes. “Ah, I see. Come, come. I have the perfect spot.”
She led us to a booth near the back, away from the main dining area but with a clear view of the pizza oven. Ella scrambled into the seat, kneeling so she could watch the pizzaiolos work—tossing dough, spreading sauce with the backs of ladles, arranging toppings with unmatched speed.
I took the seat beside Ella, bumping my knee against hers, making her giggle.
“You come here often?” I turned to Hayes, unable to resist the cliché.
His mouth quirked. “Is that your best line?”
“I’m out of practice. There’s usually not a seven-year-old chaperone involved in my dates.”
“Is this still a date?” The question came with quiet, genuine curiosity.
I glanced at Ella, who was still mesmerized by the oven, then back at him. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think,” he said slowly, “that it’s probably the most interesting second date I’ve ever been on.”
“Second?” I raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure last week was just…”
“Just what?” His eyes gleamed with something that made heat pool low in my stomach.
“Just nothing.” I shook my head. When did he get so brazen all of a sudden? He was as skittish as a newborn kitten just last week. I thought I’d have to hold him down to get a kiss, which was… certainly an idea.
“What do you like on pizza?” Hayes turned his attention to Ella.
She considered this with great gravity, lips pressed together like she was weighing a difficult choice. “Cheese. Pepperoni. Not the green things.”
“Green things?”
