“Pardon?”
“My father was wrong. He passed away.”
Shit fuck dammit. “My condolences.”
“Thanks. What about your dad—is he still alive?”
“No, both of my parents are deceased.” Sam didn’t need to know I was referring to my human parents who’d died four hundred years ago.
“I get it. Same here too.”
Double-shit fuck dammit. “That’s unfortunate.” I started walking again.
“They died together, at least.”
“Who did?”
“My parents. It was four years ago. Car accident in Vermont. They were up there for a weekend. They liked to do things like that together whenever they could. Which wasn’t always easy with me.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by not always easy with him but if I asked, he’d answer, and this conversation would never end.
“Once more, my condolences.”
“Thanks…what about your folks?”
“Are you asking me how my parents died?” I raised my brows and looked at him.
“That’s rude, huh? Okay, never mind…” He held his hand out. “Here we are.”
Turning, I realized he was right. “So we are. Have a good rest of your day, Sam.” I pulled the door open, stepped in, and saw a little old lady behind an antique desk.
“Ahh, good afternoon. Mr. Farren, I’m guessing?”
“Correct.”
“I see you have Sam as your tour guide.”
I peered over my shoulder, and of course he was right there.
“Against my will, I assure you.”
She laughed. “Come, come, let’s get started. Sam, if you’re thirsty, you know where the drinks are.”
“On it, Mrs. A. Lukas, you want something?”
I shook my head. “What I want, I doubt you’ll give me.”
He waggled his brows. “I might.”
You had to be kidding me—he was flirting.
“Peace and quiet, Sam. That’s what I’d like.”
He wasn’t deterred. He disappeared for a glorious five minutes while Vittoria showed me suits and fabrics. However, he returned with a bottle of water for himself and me, and a cup of tea for her.
“You’re such a sweet boy, Sammy.”
“And you made cannoli; I saw them back there.”
