I lean back in my chair. “I had lunch at Calvetti’s. Your cousin was right. It is the best pasta.”
He slides his wine glass half of an inch to the left on the worn wooden table. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Did you meet Marti?”
I stare at his hand. As delicately as he’s cradling the stem of the glass, I can tell that his hands are strong. The skin is sun-kissed just like his chest. I wonder if all of him is.
Drawing in a breath, I smile. “I did meet Marti and her granddaughter.”
“You got the full family treatment.” He nods. “When you walk into Calvetti’s, it’s like walking into your grandma’s kitchen.”
That’s exactly how I felt. It’s a jewel nestled in the middle of a bustling city. It’s much like the restaurant we’re sitting in now.
“Bella, Marti’s granddaughter, took me to a bakery for dessert after lunch.”
“That’s where the cupcakes happened?” He glances at an older man and woman being seated at the table next to us. “What was the name of the place?”
“Sweet Bluebells.” I sigh. “The red velvet cupcake I had was incredible. I met the pastry chef. She’s a master of her craft.”
“If I liked cupcakes, I might be tempted to check it out.”
I circle a finger over a small spot burned into the tabletop. “Trying one of their cupcakes might make you realize you like them.”
“Cupcakes happen to be my last resort dessert.”
I laugh under my breath. “What?”
His hand sweeps a path in the air over our table. “If you put a dozen desserts on this table, a cupcake would be the last I’d sample.”
Smoothing a hand over the front of my blouse, I tilt my head. “You have no idea what you’re missing out on, Case.”
His gaze follows the path of my hand. “I can’t argue with that.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Emma
The ringof his phone took Case to his feet five minutes ago. He mumbled that it was Maya and that he had to take it.
I watched him talk as he stood near the entrance to the restaurant. He stepped aside when a man and his daughter came rushing in, soaked from the sudden short thunderstorm that bore down on the city.
I glance away, not wanting Case to think that I’m studying every move he makes, even though I am.
He has to be one of the most handsome men in Manhattan.
I reach for my phone to fill the gap until Case comes back. Opening my message app, I see a text from Sandy.
Sandy: I picked up your mail. I can report nothing exciting arrived other than a coupon for a cut and color at the salon you swore you’d never go to again.
Grinning, I type a response.
Emma: Remember how short my bangs were after that? What was that nickname you gave me?
Her reply is instant.
Sandy: Baby bangs. Why don’t I still call you that?
I feather my fingertips over my forehead.
Emma: Because I haven’t had bangs in three years.
