by Maggie Gates
Gravel crunched outside as a car pulled down Steve’s driveway. “You mind flagging the pizza guy down?” I asked Hannah, walking to my bedroom. “I just need to grab some cash for a tip. Tell him to wait a minute and I’ll be out.”
Getting deliveries to a houseboat could be tricky to say the least. If Steve wasn’t home to direct them to the dock, someone had to stand outside and wave them down like a car dealership blow-up doll so they wouldn’t turn around and leave. I counted out a few bills and folded them over as I walked back down the hall.
When I made it back into the kitchen, Hannah was standing there holding grocery bags. “I thought you said you ordered pizza for tonight?”
“I did,” I said, hearing the delivery car pull away.
Hannah hefted up the paper bags and set them on the kitchen counter. “Did you drunk order groceries again? You know—You’re probably the only person who gets more responsible when you’re tipsy.”
“Bee can back me up. I haven’t had anything more than a Coke at Jokers since the other night after the funeral.”
“Then what’s all this?”
“You know I’m not that fancy,” I pointed to the label on the bags. These weren’t from the Piggly Wiggly I usually opted for. They were from an organic grocery store in Morehead that I fawned over. It had been open for a few years, but I never went inside. I knew that if I did, I’d spend every last dime in my checking account on good wine, cheese, and chocolate. I pawed through the bags until I found the order receipt. Of fucking course.
Deliver to: Madeline Dorsey
Message: Hope you liked the flowers. Your pantry looked like it was due for some reinforcements. -L
Damn that man. He could send me all the flowers in the world, and I wouldn’t feel a thing, but food? Food was the way to my heart.
“Oh my God,” Hannah squealed as she hovered over my shoulder and read the note. “He sent you groceries! That’s so romantic!”
“That’s not romantic! That’s creepy as fuck! He went through my cabinets when I was passed out on my bed.”
“He bought you groceries!” Hannah repeated as she unpacked the bags. “I’m telling you, Mad, this guy—he’s the one.”
I rolled my eyes and took the wedge of—oh, sweet baby Jesus—fontina cheese and popped it in the fridge. Hannah handed me a few containers of salad mix that would die a slow death, rotting away in the bottom of my crisper drawer, followed by some fresh cut fruit and a bottle of awfully expensive wine. I held the bottle in my hands and let out a slow, shaky breath. Sure, we had a curated wine list at the restaurant that was way above my paygrade, but the bottle in my hand was at least two car payments on my Jeep. Too bad I don’t have any wine glasses. I eyed the red plastic cups that were hanging out on top of my fridge and contemplated if putting such expensive wine in a plastic cup was sacrilegious.
“Knock, knock.” Chase strolled in before I could uncork the bottle. “Where’s Bee?”
“New Bern,” I said, setting the bottle on the counter.“She’s out on a date with Kyle Kingsley.”
“Oh,” Chase muttered, looking just a little deflated by the news. He perked up when Steve and Melissa walked in.
Mel looked around. “Where’s Kris?”
“She’s running late,” Hannah Jane chimed in. “Had to run home after work and fix dinner for everybody before she could come.”
Steve wandered through the kitchen, snooping through the grocery bags. “Since when do you have actual food here that didn’t come from the restaurant?”
“Since her boyfriend sent her flowers and groceries,” Hannah giggled as she waved Luca’s note from the grocery delivery.
“Really, Han?” I flipped her the bird again.
“The fuck is she talking about, Mad?” Steve asked as he stomped his way over to the counter and snatched the note out of Hannah’s hand.
Mel placed her hand on Steve’s arm. “Steve, it’s Maddie we’re talking about. She can handle it.”
“Don’t fucking like it,” Chase seethed as he shook his head.
The pizza guy finally drove up. Thank God. I needed a break from everyone else’s opinions about my life. I grabbed the cash I had pulled out to tip him and went outside. I hopped up onto the dock and waved the delivery car down the driveway. Pizzas in hand, I walked back down onto the deck and yelled, “Come and get it, y’all!”
The girls barrelled out and grabbed the boxes out of my hand.
“Steve, you mind putting the bar in the water?” I asked
He grunted something that kind of sounded agreeable as he picked up my swim-up tiki bar and lowered it into the water. It was more like a floating table with an umbrella, but it was still fun. Melissa plugged in the string lights and lit up the deck while Hannah Jane unfolded the card table and circled up all the chairs.
I grabbed my phone and checked my messages.
“Waiting for a certain someone to call?” Steve asked as he righted himself and wiped his hands on his cargo shorts.
“No,” I snapped. “I was just seeing if Kris was on her way.”
“Sure you were,” he mocked, securing the tethers that kept the bar from floating away.
“Fuck off, Pelham,” I said, rolling my eyes. Okay, so maybe I was checking to see if Luca had texted me. Mondays weren’t that busy at the restaurant, and I was more than a little curious what he was up to. Still, I wasn’t going to admit that to Steve. I had always felt more like one of the guys. I rarely talked about my flavor of the week with him and if I did, it was in the past tense. We had known each other for most of our lives. Maybe that’s why Steve and I never had any sparks after knowing each other after all this time.
“You into him?” He asked flatly.
“No.”
“Bullshit,” he said, studying my face. For the first time in a long time, Steve cracked a wry smile. “Looks like you're gonna lose tonight with that shitty poker face.”
✽✽✽
And I did. That’s how I found myself standing on the roof of my houseboat while the rest of the crew was down below, screaming for me to jump.
“Do it, Mad!” Kristin yelled from the deck.
“Don’t make me come up there and push you off,” Chase shouted. As if. I’d jump on my own damn terms. Although, bringing Chase down with me would be fun. Don’t threaten me with a good time.
Melissa yawned, “Hurry up! It’s late and I gotta work in the morning. You gonna stand up there all night? You know the drill! Loser jumps!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. I stripped off my Let’s Go Girls tank top and tossed it down to my adoring public. Headlights flashed down the driveway as I peeled off my shorts and threw them down. I took a running start and cannonballed fifteen feet down into the bay. Everyone whooped and cheered as I surfaced and swam over to the ladder. Hannah Jane offered me a hand and pulled me up. I adjusted the black bandeau bikini top and held my arms out enthusiastically. “Who wants a hug?”
The girls backed away, but Steve charged toward me, threw me over his shoulder, and tossed me back into the water.
Despite flailing and screaming like a banshee, I still managed to grab onto his shirt and pull him in with me. At least I had the sense to put on a swimsuit. Steve, on the other hand, was soaked. When we climbed back up onto the deck, he peeled off his shirt and wrung it out.
“Damn,” I said, noticing his lean stomach. Even with our completely platonic relationship, I could admit that Steve had always been attractive. The muscles were a return to form, though. The resurgence of cancer treatments for Heather meant that he had put himself—and working out—on the back burner so that he could give her all of his time and attention. “So that’s what you’ve been doing in your garage at midnight when I get back from work.”
Steve shrugged and slung his shirt over his shoulder. “Mel, you need a ride home?”
Melissa giggled, “That’d be much appreciated, Detective Pelham. I may have had a little too much to drink.”
He chuckled, “
I can see that. Give me a sec to change.” Steve headed back toward his house.
“Han, you riding with me?” Chase asked, fumbling around for his keys. He and Hannah Jane only lived a few blocks from each other, so they alternated being each other’s designated driver.
“Kris, you wanna stick around and play another hand?” I asked.
She yawned and shook her head. “I gotta get going. I probably shouldn’t have stayed out this late anyway.”
Steve jogged back down the dock in dry clothes and stood at the edge of the deck of my houseboat. “Kris, you want me to take you home too? It’s not too far from Mel’s place.”
Mel glanced down at her feet and awkwardly shifted back and forth. Kristin shook her head, “Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got my car and I barely had one drink.”
“You sure?”
Kristin nodded, “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
Melissa seemed to lighten up with that. Steve reached out and took Mel’s hand, helping her up onto the dock. “See y’all around,” he waved.
“Bye, guys,” Mel called out as they walked to his Challenger.
Everyone else helped me quickly clean up before loading up and heading their separate ways. Everything was quiet. Crickets chirped and frogs sang a lullaby. The air was warm and soothing, and the breeze that blew off the sound was calming. I padded through my house, flipping off lights and making sure the place was tidy. Usually after poker nights, I was beat. I had an early morning, but for some reason, I was wired. I pawed through my fridge to take a closer look at what Luca had presumptuously ordered for me.
Bottle of wine, corkscrew, and white truffle popcorn in hand, I walked outside to the deck, plopped down in a deck chair, and began scrolling through Netflix for a new episode of something serial killer related to wind down with. I stabbed the corkscrew into the cork, gave it a sharp twist, and yanked it out.
“Tell me you weren’t about to drink that straight from the bottle.”
I whipped my head around to find Luca walking down the dock. He was dressed in gym shorts that hugged his very fine ass, a t-shirt, and his Yankees snapback. “Well, well, well,” I finally said after giving myself plenty of time for my silence to have a dramatic effect. So, I was a little petty. Sue me. “If it isn’t Hot Guy from the Gym in L.A.,” I said as I rolled my eyes and stared at the wine bottle that was inches away from my lips. Yes—I was going to drink it straight from the bottle because I, a professional chef and grown adult, didn’t own a set of wine glasses.
“I’m begging you, Mad—please don’t desecrate that beautiful vintage,” he chuckled.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, ignoring his comment.
“Rae told me you’re the one who hosted your, uh, poker nights. Figured since I couldn’t get these put on the grocery order that I’d bring them by myself,” he said, standing on the edge of the dock and holding up a paper bag.
I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“Permission to come aboard?”
“And if I say no?”
Luca cracked a grin. “Then I’ll just sit on the dock and talk at you until your neighbor kicks me off his property.”
“Steve isn’t your biggest fan. You’re lucky he’s not here at the moment.” I waved him over. “Might as well show me what’s in the bag.”
Luca hopped over the lip of the pontoon and landed on the deck with ease. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He set the bag down and pulled out three objects wrapped in packing paper. One by one, he unwrapped them—setting them on the little table that was between my deck chair and loveseat.
My lips tightened as I tried my best to hide a smile. “Wine glasses and a decanter,” I acknowledged.
He grinned and sat down in the loveseat. “Looks like I was just in time too.”
“I almost just poured it in a Solo cup.”
He gave me a dramatic grimace and held his hand out for the bottle.
“Fine,” I huffed sarcastically and reluctantly handed it over. While he poured the wine into the decanter, I picked up one of the empty glasses and inspected it. Clean lines. A beautiful stem. A deep bowl that narrowed into an angled lip. Modern and elegant. Not only would the glass add to the experience, reducing the bitterness and creating a smoother flavor, it was aesthetically pleasing. “Nice choice,” I admitted.
Luca set the decanter aside and took the other glass in his hand. “You know, most people just see a glass.”
“Not us.”
He smiled, “Not us.”
“It’s forks for me,” I confessed. “Whenever I go out somewhere other than Revanche, I get really excited about a nice fork. Good weight, clean lines. Prongs that are spaced, but not too much.”
Luca stared at me for a moment without saying anything.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I think that’s the first time since California that you’ve let me see you.”
“You see me all the time.”
“Not like this,” Luca shook his head. He took the decanter and expertly poured a glass, handing it to me before pouring one for himself.
I took a sip, letting the flavor linger on my tongue. “Wow,” I said after the first sip. “That’s a really good bottle.”
“It should be,” He quipped. His chuckle was low and raspy. It sent shivers across my skin and I realized that I was still in my bikini.
I set my glass aside and stood up, “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t tell me that having a glass of wine with me is making you wanna jump off the roof again.”
A deep blush painted my cheeks. “You saw that?”
He shrugged, “I came from the restaurant. Your friends were still here. Didn’t wanna interrupt.”
I stalled for a minute, but finally gathered my wits and pointed to the screen door that led deeper into my house. “I’m just gonna throw on some dry clothes…”
He nodded and I hurried into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I leaned against the door and let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let it happen. Just being in his presence had me teetering on the brink of either climbing him like a tree or choking the life out of him.
I stripped off my soggy swimsuit and threw on some dry clothes. Sensible underwear and a sports bra that had a hole that I should have retired many years ago. I was going for a look that did not scream, “Please fuck me until I see stars.” I jumped into a pair of yoga pants and a shirt from a Chris Stapleton concert last summer that I’d turned into a crop top.
I contemplated locking the door and hiding until he got bored and left, but that would make me a coward, and that was something I sure as hell was not. Steeling myself, I made my way back outside and glanced at Steve’s house. He still wasn’t back from Melissa’s.
“If you’re gonna make a run for it, you might want a pair of shoes.”
“Just seeing if Steve was back,” I said, turning my attention back to Luca. He was stretched out on my loveseat and looked relaxed.
“How’s he doing?” He asked.
“What?”
Luca set his half-empty glass on the table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He lost his wife.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“And you lost a friend.”
I nodded. God, what was it about him that had me falling apart all the damn time? I wasn’t like this around anyone else–not even my girlfriends. “Yeah,” I croaked.
Luca patted the empty spot on the loveseat and I hesitated. His playboy smirk faded into a kind smile and he said, “I’m not here to push you, Maddie.”
“Then why are you here? The flowers… the groceries… the wine…”
He leaned back against the loveseat and draped his arms across the length of it. “If I wanted to seduce you, trust me—you’d know it.”
“This isn’t you seducing me?”
“No.”
Why do I hate that answer so much? I waved my hand t
oward the wine, “Then what is all this?”
“This is me getting to know you.”
“But not seducing me?” I clarified.
He held his hands up defensively, “I come in peace.”
I grabbed my wine glass, and against my better judgement, sat down beside him on the loveseat. “I don’t know how much I believe you.”
“What if I told you I do have plans to seduce you, but this is not part of it and you can just relax? For now.”
That did ease a little of the tension in my shoulders. I took a small sip of wine and felt the stress begin to melt away. Luca. I had said his name so many times before, but this time I knew it would be different. He had given me the choice: Luca or Chef DeRossi. I wanted to argue, but even I knew there would never be an in-between.
“Maddie, we need to talk about New York.”
That was a conversation for tequila and I was fresh out. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said while I stared at my reflection in the wine.
“It does matter,” he argued, “because I plan on making you fall for me and it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if you don’t hate me.”
I sighed and sulked back into the corner of the loveseat, pulling my feet up underneath me. A gust of wind blew off the water and it made me shiver. Luca instinctively reached to wrap an arm around me, but he recoiled at the last minute. “The show will be airing soon,” I muttered into my wine. “Next week?”
Luca nodded, “Yeah.” There was something sad about his smile. “I’ve gotta turn on the asshole judge thing for a couple days and do a little press.”
“You don’t seem happy about that.”
Luca draped his arm across the back of the loveseat and let his fingers graze the top of my shoulder. “I know I was hard on you, but it’s because I think you’re exceptional.” He took a sip of wine and added, “Seeing you here at the restaurant—you’re more talented than even that competition let on.”
I never took compliments well, so I just finished off my glass, letting the slow, creeping comfort of the alcohol dull my senses.
“How’s it feel to know you won?”
“Relieved,” I admitted all too quickly. I cursed the wine and immediately regretted letting my guard down.
