Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“No. I was about to run next door and get a pipe cutter when you pulled up.”
“Okay. I’ll make us a fresh batch of iced tea. You look…” My eyes swept over him again. “Hot.”
“Sounds good.”
I got to the front door and remembered something from my grandmother’s letter. “Hey, Matteo?”
He turned back.
“Any chance you know a woman named Carlina?”
“Si. And if she comes around, Sophia never had a blue-eyed cat living in her bedroom.”
I walked into the house laughing. My grandmother was definitely good at her game.
A few hours later, Matteo was still upstairs working when there was a knock at the door.
When I answered, Tomasso smiled and held up his hand with his fingers pinched together, Italian style. “Ciao, sei sempre più bella ogni volta che ti vedo.”
I opened the screen door. “I’m not sure what that means, but it sounded really nice when you said it.”
He flashed a dimpled smile. “It means you get more beautiful every time I see you.”
Boy, this kid laid it on thick. Yet he owned it, so somehow it worked for him. “That’s very sweet. Does that line work on girls your own age?”
He took my hand. “Age is only a number.”
“And what number might you be? Eighteen?”
He held up a finger. “Nineteen.”
Oof. That hurt. “Are you looking for your boss?”
“I’m looking for my soulmate. And I t’ink I find her.”
I chuckled. “Corny but adorable. What can I do for you, Tomasso?”
“Accompany me to dinner, for starters?”
I took my hands back. “I’m taking a break from dating.”
He covered over his heart. “I’m devastated.”
“You’ll bounce back. Young people are resilient.”
“I not give up easily.” He winked. “Is da boss upstairs?”
“He is.”
“May I?”
I stepped aside. “Of course.”
Tomasso went up to the second floor and came down a few minutes later. “Until next time, bella.”
“Have a good evening, Tomasso.”
After he left, I went to check on how things were going up in the bathroom and brought Matteo another glass of tea. Sadly, his shirt was now on.
“Are you hungry?” I extended the drink to him. “You’ve been working up here all day.”
“I could eat.”
“I’m a little rusty with my cooking, but I picked up some groceries on my way home from the lawyer to make my grandmother’s risotto alla Milanese. I’ve been craving it since I walked in. She always made it the night I arrived, so apparently, I’m trained like Pavlov’s dog now.”
“Do you know her recipe?”
I grinned. “I do.”
He shook his head. “I asked her for it once, and she told me to eat dirt.”
“If my new shower has water pressure as good as you have next door, I might accidentally leave the recipe card out.”
Matteo guzzled the full glass of tea without stopping for a breath, then handed me back the empty.
I chuckled. “You could’ve taken your time with it.”
“Did my worker bother you?”
I leaned against the doorjamb, watching Matteo fill in the area around the shower body with silicone. “No, he was actually very sweet. He even asked me out to dinner.”
Matteo froze for a few seconds before going back to caulking and said nothing more. He didn’t even ask if I’d said yes or no. After another minute of silence, he cleared his throat. “I should be done in half of an hour.”
Okay, then. It felt a bit like a dismissal, which I’d normally have a problem with, but the man was doing me a favor, so I did the unthinkable—kept my mouth shut and went to cook.
Matteo came downstairs carrying a bucket of tools just as I lowered the heat on the risotto. I looked at the clock on the wall. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’m going to drop my tools off next door and take a quick shower.”
“Okay. I can slow the simmer, if you want?”
“No need. I’ll be back.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, he knocked while I was stirring. “Come in.”
Matteo’s hair was slicked back wet, and damn if he didn’t smell better than the risotto. He lifted a bottle of wine. “This was your grandmother’s favorite. I figured we should pair it with her recipe.”
“That’s perfect.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
He opened the bottle while I plated two dishes. It had been a long time since I’d worked in the kitchen with a man. It felt oddly domestic but also…nice. We sat down at the table, and Matteo held out his wine glass.
“To Sophia.”
I clinked. “To Nonna.”
Matteo shoveled a heaping forkful of risotto into his mouth while I waited.
“Well? How did I do?”
“Delizioso. Culinary skills must run in da family.”
“I actually enjoyed making it. It’s been forever since I cooked a meal.”
“You mean for someone else?”
I shook my head. “I mean at all.”
Matteo’s forehead creased. “What do you eat if you don’t cook?”
“I’m usually at the office for dinner, so I order in and eat at my desk. On the weekends, I either go out or heat up something I brought home as leftovers.”