by Susan Stoker
They were greeted by Francesca herself. She’d obviously been on the lookout for him as she came rushing out from the back of the restaurant, her arms open, a stream of Italian coming from her mouth. Nathan awkwardly received her hug, patting her shoulder once or twice in return.
She was a small, round woman who obviously had no problem sampling the rich Italian pasta made in her restaurant. She was wearing a black dress with an apron thrown over it. The protective garment had flour stains on it, and she wore sturdy, comfortable shoes on her feet. Nathan had never seen her in a bad mood, and her laughter was contagious. Not only did he love the food they served, he honestly enjoyed Francesca’s sunny outlook on life. It was a good balance to what he did and saw every day.
“It’s so good to see you, Nathan! As usual, you are welcome. And who is this bellissima woman?”
Nathan reached out and took Bailey’s hand in his, careful this time not to touch her anywhere else. He linked his fingers with hers and pulled her so she was standing next to him. “Francesca, this is Bailey. Bailey, Francesca. The owner of Scarpetti’s and the person who has put Castle Rock on the map.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said, blushing and obviously pleased by the compliment. She brushed off a smudge of flour she’d left on Nathan’s jacket when she’d hugged him as she spoke to Bailey. “I’m so glad you came tonight with Nathan. He’s a lonely boy. Always eating by himself and ordering food to eat at his desk late at night. All work and no play makes him a dull boy!”
Bailey looked up at him, and Nathan knew he was blushing. Dammit. He’d never had a real mother, not one who treated him as a mother should treat her son, but he imagined this was what it would feel like to be embarrassed by a mom.
The older woman laughed. A deep, hearty laugh that made several patrons turn and look at them, obviously wondering who they were and why they warranted such special treatment from the owner.
“Come on then. Let’s get you seated,” Francesca ordered, grabbing Nathan’s free hand and tugging. “I put you in the couple’s corner. You’ll be left alone except for the delivery of your food and refills of your drinks.” She turned to Nathan as she continued to lead them through the crowded restaurant. “Will you try our wine tonight since it’s a special occasion?”
“You know I don’t enjoy wine, Francesca,” Nathan said lightly. “But Bailey might like a glass. Bailey?” He turned to her. Bailey’s eyes were wide as she walked quietly by his side. She was taking in as much of the opulent decor as she could while they were towed to their table.
“A glass of wine would be lovely,” she said.
“Eccellente!” Francesca cried in excitement. “You will allow me to choose one that best fits your meal?”
Nathan squeezed her hand in reassurance, and she finally said, “Yes, please. Thank you.”
Francesca stopped in front of a small table in the back corner of the restaurant. It was obvious why she’d dubbed it the “couple’s corner.” It was located away from the kitchen, and even the other tables were a slight distance away, giving the small alcove a feeling of intimacy the other tables didn’t have.
The booth was rounded, allowing the diners to sit side by side, rather than across from each other. The high-backed velvet-covered seat curled around the table, which would effectively seal them off from their surroundings. The round table had no decoration except for a single long-stemmed red rose in a thin, high vase. The tablecloth was white, and the black napkins stood out in stark contrast.
“Here we are! I’ll be back with menus. Make yourself comfortable,” Francesca said, waving her hand before rushing away.
Still holding Bailey’s hand, Nathan gestured to the booth. “Ladies first.”
She smiled at him and let go of his hand so she could scoot into the seat. Nathan followed close behind her. They sat close, but not too close. He could feel her body heat next to his leg, and glanced down, immediately regretting it.
Bailey’s dress had slid up her thighs as she’d sat down, and he saw glimpses of her creamy white flesh as she situated herself before tugging the skirt down as far as she could. He swallowed hard, trying to think about anything but how soft the skin of her thighs would be.
Before he could open his mouth to say something, Francesca was back with the menus. She brandished them and held them open in front of each of them before going on and on about the specials for the night and what the famous celebrity chef was making for the evening.
Seeing that Bailey was completely overwhelmed, Nathan put his hand on hers and asked, “May I order for us both? Do you mind?”
She sighed in relief and quickly nodded. “Please do. I’m so out of my league, I don’t even know what half this stuff means,” she whispered, clearly embarrassed.
“To tell you the truth, neither do I,” Nathan told her in an equally quiet voice. “After the first time I came here, I had to go online and look it all up so the next time I was here I didn’t end up with something slimy and squirmy instead of creamy, cheesy pasta.”
She smiled at him, and Nathan made a vow to do whatever he could to always keep a smile like that on her face.
He turned to Francesca. “We’ll start with the plin, then for the main course, tajarin for me and tagliata for the lady, and we’ll share a cioccolato for desert . . . à la mode, please.”
“Your Italian is still awful, but you have exquisite taste in food,” Francesca told him with a wink. She turned to Bailey. “Would you like black summer truffles with your tagliata?”
Nathan squeezed her hand when she looked at him in confusion, and answered, “Yes, please, Francesca. That would be wonderful.”
“I will be right back with drinks,” the older woman told them, then gave them a slight bow and left.
Bailey looked up at him with a grin. “Can I ask what you just ordered for us?”
Thrilled that she hadn’t pulled her hand out from under his, Nathan said, “Everything is a lot fancier than I’ll describe it, but in a nutshell we’re starting with plin, which is a homemade ravioli with cheese and spices. It’s to die for. Then I’m having the house-made noodles with meat sauce, you’re having grilled sirloin with mushrooms, asparagus, and potatoes, and for dessert we’re sharing a hazelnut flourless chocolate cake with fruit sauce and ice cream on the side.”
She looked at him for a beat before asking, “Why don’t they just call it ravioli, pasta, steak, and cake?”
Nathan chuckled. “I have no idea. That’s why I did my research after eating here the first time. I ended up ordering artichoke flan, belly sausage, and chocolate-dipped oranges. Wasn’t my favorite.”
Bailey giggled, and Nathan thought it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. It actually made the stress and worry melt off her face.
“Oh my God, you didn’t?”
Nathan held up his free hand in a pseudo–Boy Scout salute. “Not lying. I did. Francesca just laughed in my face every time she brought something new out to me. She offered to bring me something different, but I refused, because that would be wasteful. She usually still offers to choose something for me every time I come.”
“Why didn’t she tonight?”
Nathan shrugged. “Maybe because she knew I wanted to impress you. Are you impressed?”
“I am,” Bailey told him, still smiling.
“I don’t know anything about wines, though, but I’m sure she’ll bring something perfect to go with what I ordered for you.”
“You don’t drink?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all,” Nathan confirmed. “But before you think it’s because I’m an alcoholic or that I have something against people who do, it’s only because I don’t like the taste. I can drink some hard alcohol, if it’s disguised in something. But drinking beer or wine has just never been high on my list of things to do. Besides the taste, I don’t like feeling out of control.”
He could see Bailey’s mind whirling with that, but she merely nodded and said, “Makes
sense. I’m not a huge drinker, but I’ve done my share.”
“Most people have,” Nathan said easily. He finally moved his hand from atop hers—reluctantly—and leaned on his elbows on the table in front of him, keeping his head turned toward Bailey. “Tell me about yourself.”
She shrugged, and he saw a slight pink sheen move up into her cheeks. She mimicked his position, leaning her own elbows on the table. “Not much to know, really.”
“I doubt that,” he said with a small snort.
“I’m twenty-four. Grew up in Denver. My ma died when I was young, and I was raised by my pa. He died when I was twenty, and I got custody of Joel. I moved down here to Castle Rock to get him out of the city. The end.”
Nothing she said was a lie, but she was sure leaving a lot out. Nathan let it go because he knew a lot of what she was leaving out. “How’d you get interested in working on cars?”
“My pa. It’s what he did. I started helping him when I was about Joel’s age.” She shrugged. “I liked it and was good at it. It was about the only thing I was good at.”
Nathan immediately shook his head. “Now that I don’t believe.”
“It’s true. My grades weren’t great. I got in trouble all the time in high school for ditching or sleeping in class. I hung out with . . . not good people.” She looked away from him and fiddled with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “If it wasn’t for Joel, I’d probably still be in Denver and doing the same bad shit I’ve done my entire life.”
Nathan couldn’t stand the hopelessness in her tone. He reached up, put a finger under her chin, and gently turned her to face him.
“My brothers and I are triplets, and my mom never loved us. She was threatened by us, even when we were kids. She never tucked us in, never packed lunches for us. The only thing she did was teach me the most effective way to hit someone and make it hurt. When I left home at eighteen, I was scared to death. I didn’t want to go. Like a typical victim of abuse, that’s all I knew. I had no idea how to exist on my own. My brothers made it clear they were going their own way, and the Army wasn’t for me. I liked numbers, so I managed to get an academic scholarship and went to a community college. Then after I graduated, I got an accountant job in St. Louis. All I did was work, then go home to my apartment. By myself. It wasn’t until I came home for my dad’s funeral and Logan suggested we start our own company that I began to feel like myself again. My brothers filled a hole inside of me. I’m more comfortable with them around. Braver. If it wasn’t for Logan, I’d still be hiding from the world in St. Louis. Don’t sell yourself short, Bailey. It’s not what you’ve done that defines you, but what’s in here.”
He moved his hand to rest on the upper swell of her breast, careful not to overstep his bounds.
“What if there’s nothing good in there?” Bailey whispered, her eyes so incredibly sad it made Nathan want to pull her into his lap, cuddle her, and tell her he wouldn’t let anything ever hurt her again. He controlled the urge, barely.
“There’s good in there, Bailey. I’ve seen it.”
“You just met me,” she protested.
“Exactly. And I’ve seen it. Bailey, you were the only person who stopped to help me when I was obviously in need in that parking lot. My hood was up, and I was standing in front of it like an idiot. No one stopped to see if they could call someone for me, or to even ask if I was okay. Except you. Your brother loves you, is terrified of letting you down. He wants to please you so much. It was plain to see in the shop yesterday. And the fact that he’s a good kid, polite, for the most part, and minds you, tells me you’re strict, but loving with him. So yeah, you have good inside you.”
He dropped his palm from her chest to the hand that was still fiddling with her napkin, trying to reassure her in some way.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” she said, still protesting.
“I dare you to point out one person out in this restaurant who hasn’t done something they’ve regretted,” Nathan said firmly.
Bailey turned her head from his and looked around them at the people sitting in the booths and tables, wearing fancy clothes and smiling and laughing.
“Life is hard, Bailey, I think you know that. But it’s how you keep on going when it gets you down that matters. Some of us learn adversity at a young age, for others it takes longer, but it’s my firm belief that adversity makes us better humans. We learn from our mistakes, and other people’s too. We might trip once, or twice, or even a hundred times, but eventually we figure out how to pick up our feet when we walk.”
She licked her lips, and one side of her mouth quirked up. “You’re awfully philosophical, Nathan.”
He felt himself blush now, and tried to control it. He didn’t smile back at her, wanting her to understand in an elemental way what he was saying before he had to break the news that he knew all about her and why she was in Castle Rock. “I’ve tripped more than my fair share, Bailey. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and I can respect that. But you should know that I don’t care about your past. I mean, I do because it’s made you into the beautiful woman sitting across from me, but if you think something you’ve done, or haven’t done, is going to make me not want to be with you, please put it from your mind.” He didn’t take his eyes from her, willing her to understand. “I’ll move at your pace, pixie. We can hang out and watch movies, I’ll play video games with Joel, even though I suck at them, and he’ll kick my ass. I’ll help him with his homework and make sure he has lots of people to help him celebrate his birthday. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance.”
“Nathan, I—”
He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing her knuckles before putting it palm down on his thigh and holding it there with his own warm hand. “At least give me tonight before you shoot me down. Get to know me as I’ll get to know you. By the end of the night, you’ll know all my secrets. You might not like them, but as I told you before, I won’t lie to you.”
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence,” Bailey stated.
“I know. All I’m saying is that I like the woman who is sitting in front of me. You’re the first person I’ve ever opened up to like this because you’re the first person I’ve ever really wanted to know the real me.”
Bailey chewed on her lower lip for a moment and opened her mouth to speak, but Francesca beat her to it. The woman had come up to their table with two glasses in her hand. A red wine for Bailey and a water for Nathan.
“Boring water for you, my friend,” she said with a kind smile and winking at Bailey. “And for the lady, a nice red wine. Nebbiolo by Roberto Voerzio. Two thousand and ten. I think you’ll enjoy it.” She placed it in front of Bailey and stood by their table, waiting.
When Bailey didn’t reach for her glass, Nathan leaned over and whispered, “She’s waiting for you to taste it. To make sure you like it.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, the pink in her cheeks returning. She reached out with her free hand, since Nathan wouldn’t let go of the one still resting on his thigh, and sipped the light-red wine. She looked up at Francesca in surprise and murmured, “It smells a little like roses. Am I imagining that?”
If possible, Francesca’s smile widened. She said something in Italian before clasping both hands together in front of her. “You are not wrong, little one. It should pair well with both the appetizer and your main dish.” She then turned to Nathan and said in a mock-stern voice, “This one’s a keeper, young man,” before nodding and then whirling away, quickly stepping back into the kitchen.
Nathan couldn’t keep the chuckle back at the look on Bailey’s face, relieved when she smiled back at him.
“You certainly know some unusual people,” was her only comment.
He squeezed her hand in return.
Soon after, their food began to arrive. They spent the next hour and a half talking, and laughing, and getting to know each other. Bailey drank another glass of wine, and she ate with abandon, loving everything p
ut in front of her.
Finally, after they’d devoured the flourless dessert, she leaned back, putting both hands on her tummy, and exclaimed, “I’m stuffed. I couldn’t eat another bite. It was delicious. I don’t know what fancy food is supposed to taste like, but I understand why this place is so popular. That chef is a miracle worker.”
Nathan leaned back against the comfortable red booth and told her quietly, “Don’t tell anyone, but the items I picked out for us tonight weren’t Chef Grimbaldi’s dishes. They’re Francesca’s specialties.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why in the world did she invite the famous chef guy to come in for two months when her cooking is so good then?”
“Marketing. What better way to get people to try out the new restaurant in town than to tell them a famous chef will be cooking here? Once she’s got ’em in the door, they’ll hopefully keep coming back even when he’s gone.”
“She’s a freaking genius,” Bailey said with a firm nod. “Seriously. That was delicious. I know I can’t afford it, but I’ll be sure to tell Clayson that he needs to continue to bring his wife here.”
Nathan didn’t comment on the not-affording-it statement. If it was up to him, she wouldn’t have to worry about money again. Not when she was with him. But she wasn’t with him, and he still had to get through the hard part of the night. The part where she’d probably end up really pissed off at him and not wanting to see him again.
“You ready to hear about what I do?” he asked quietly, suddenly wanting to get it out of the way.
She looked at him, the light in her eyes dying when she saw how serious he was.
She nodded.
Nathan took a deep breath and got to it.
Chapter Ten
Bailey had no idea what Nathan was going to tell her, but it was obvious it was something important. She’d enjoyed the night immensely and was having a hard time remembering exactly what she was and why she didn’t want to get involved with him, or any man, ever again.
