If The Shoe Fits

by Fennell, Judi

  “Now, Gus.” Bella ran over to them and put her hands on his. “You know Perla and Harry always love to try out your newest creations. You go right ahead and keep making them.” She winked over her shoulder at Giac. Usually, he was the calmer of the two. “We need Gus’s creativity for our more adventurous guests and your artistry, Giac, for the regulars.” She kissed Gus’s bald head and squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t have done this without both of you since the accident. You’ve kept Dad’s soul alive in this place.”

  Mention of her father’s passing bound them all in a moment of silence before Giac hastily cleared his throat and leaned in to give her a quick peck on her cheek. “And you are our sunshine.”

  Gus shot a disgruntled look at Giac, then, with a heavy sigh, wiped his hands on his apron. He tweaked Bella’s chin. “For you, I work.” One more disdainful look toward Giac, then Gus waddled through to the back, letting the hinged countertop fall into place, the resulting crash saying exactly what he did not.

  Bella slipped beneath the counter, arranging items on the other side of it. She placed a metallic napkin container on the countertop and slid a salt and pepper holder next to it. A glass shaker of crushed pepper followed.

  Giac and Gus, they were like family—definitely more of one than Madeleine and her daughters that was for sure—but their arguments were happening much too frequently. With the Madeleine nightmare, Bella didn’t know how much more stress she could take.

  Giac bent down to retrieve the rag at his feet then sighed, absently pushing the flour around on the countertop. “I don’t understand why he insists on such… such…”

  “Creations?”

  “Actually I’d call them creatures—and monstrous ones at that.” Giac shook his head. “Why must I put up with this?”

  Bella reached out to take the ineffectual rag. “Because you love him. And when you love someone you do whatever it takes to make it work, no matter how much you hate it.” That included dealing with wicked stepmothers.

  Giac raised an eyebrow. “Even if he makes me crazy?”

  “Would he be Gus any other way?”

  He sighed. “You’re right. But you should hear him at home. He’s getting worse—always trying more adventurous combinations. No one will eat them.”

  “Perla and Harry will.” Bella swallowed her chuckle.

  Giac laughed outright, their little conspiracy out in the open. “Even though you pay them to eat the food, it amazes me that those two keep coming back. They’re our best customers. But I wonder how much this newest batch is going to cost you. You know you keep Perla in all her newest sandals with the money you pay her, don’t you?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy.”

  He chucked her under the chin. “You are too good.” His face hardened. “And that woman takes advantage of your good nature. You really should—”

  Bella held up her hand. “Giac, as long as Madeleine has custody of Sophia and, therefore, control of this business, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure my sister grows up in our family’s house, knowing she’s loved. With a family business for her future.”

  “What about the boarding school threat?”

  She exhaled. “I have a plan.”

  “Does it involve cement shoes?” Giac twirled his handlebar mustache.

  Bella couldn’t help laugh. “Me ending up in jail won’t do us any good, Giac, so no, it doesn’t. It does, however, involve you and Gus.”

  “Us? Madeleine’s not exactly our type, sweetheart, but if you want one of us to marry her to get control of the place, I guess we can take one for the team.”

  “No, not that. I want to fight for custody of Sophia.”

  “Oh, honey, that’d be wonderful, but that witch isn’t going to give up her meal ticket.”

  “I know. That’s why we have to make meals. A lot of them.” She brushed a hair from her face. “I didn’t tell you, but I put in a bid to cater the hospital auction.”

  “We’re catering that? More work sounds exhausting, Bella, love,” said Giac.

  “Unfortunately I didn’t win the contract. But I’m going to pursue other events. Sophia’s worth it. But, you’re right. It’s going to be a lot of work, so if you’d rather not get involved—”

  “Now I didn’t say that. You know Gus and I will do whatever you need, but if only there was some way to challenge Madeleine’s claim on Sal’s estate—”

  “Don’t go there, Giac. It’s fruitless. And hopeless. Trust me, I’ve tried to come up with a way, but Uncle Vinny’s lawyer said it’s iron-clad.”

  “Well, maybe your prince will finally come.”

  Yeah. Wouldn’t it be great for Prince Charming to ride in on his white horse and slay the dragon that was Madeleine? That would be the only time that the similarity between her and the fictional princess would be welcome.

  Thoughts of Mr. Art Sculpture from yesterday danced in her head.

  She made them waltz right out again; fairy tales could break your heart if you tried to apply them to real life.

  Chapter Five

  The merry jingle of bells rippled through Casteleoni’s as the early morning regulars streamed in. Bella quickly donned her apron and set about pouring coffee. Plates of eggs, muffins, croissants, and donuts—though not spinach ones—appeared as if by magic from the back, so Bella knew Gus had calmed himself down and was fully engaged in his creativity.

  Bella loved being in the thick of the community, loved hearing the latest news of everyone’s families. This place, this business, was her sanctuary. It was the home she didn’t have in the house she should call home.

  Father DiGennaro stopped by after morning mass. The Napoli brothers hopped in for a cup of coffee and their regular cannolies, while the Donatelli twins played hooky from third period to flirt with the construction workers on a break from their job site. Bella was wiping down a table and admonishing the girls on the merits of English lit when a shiver flashed over her skin.

  She recognized it immediately; Mr. Art Sculpture had entered the building.

  “So what’s Gus’s special of the day?” The voice behind her played like the slow, sensuous melody of a violin up her spine.

  She turned slowly. Six foot plus of gorgeous with a strong, sculpted face, that smile—Lord, that smile—and those eyes... It was as if the air came alive, the sunshine brighter, sounds crisper.

  “Hi.” He smiled at her.

  She gulped. She honest-to-God gulped. “Um, hi.”

  His smile deepened. Ah, those dimples. She could do nothing but stare at them.

  “So… the special?”

  They certainly were—”Um, I’m sorry. What?”

  “The sign. It says to try Gus’s special of the day. I’m interested.”

  So was she.

  Bella shook her head and tried to scoop up her composure that was melting all over the floor. “It’s, um, spinach donuts.”

  The dimples disappeared. “On second thought…”

  Bella laughed. “I know. It takes a certain amount of daring to try them.”

  “And an iron stomach.”

  She couldn’t help glancing at his. His golf shirt molded nicely to a very iron-like stomach. Probably a six-pack.

  Bella tucked some of her stray hair into her ponytail. “Um, so you’re saying that your stomach isn’t up to the challenge?”

  His dark eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right? Spinach donuts are really his specialty?”

  She led him to one of the booths. “We never kid about Gus’s specialties. And a few people have tried them.” Aside from Harry and Perla, the construction crew came in every Friday to reward the winner of their weekly bet: losers bought the winner Gus’s special. Gus, thinking it an honor, was thrilled, and everyone let him think it was. The truth, however, was that the so-called “winner” wasn’t the guy who’d done the best job for the week, but the biggest screw-up. “I’ll just get you a menu and—”

  He—Reese—clamped his fingers around
her wrist. “Hang on.” He cleared his throat and slid onto the vinyl. “It’s not like it’s going to kill me, right? I mean, spinach’s good for you, and donuts, well, they taste good. So… yeah. I’ll give it a try.”

  Bella blinked. “Are you sure?”

  “I am.” He didn’t look it.

  She took pity on him. Some. “If it’s any consolation, those who’ve tried them said they aren’t bad.” They weren’t good either, but at least the donuts stayed down.

  “What about you?”

  “Me? Haven’t tried them.” She never did so she wouldn’t have to lie to the customers. Or to Gus. “If I sampled everything I wouldn’t be able to fit through the door,” she said, heading toward the front counter.

  “So what’s Adonis doing in our humble abode?” Giac asked as she set the hinged countertop back in place.

  She’d been wondering that herself. “Having breakfast?” A foreign concept indeed.

  “Hmmm, is that what it is?” Giac waggled his eyebrows. “I don’t recall you leading Mr. Fazio to his table in a quite so, shall we say, come-hither way.”

  “Okay, okay.” Bella bent down to pick up a napkin she’d brushed to the floor so he wouldn’t see her blush. With her composure once more regained, she explained how she’d coerced the poor guy into trying Gus’s special.

  “Bella.” Giac sighed. “You are not doing Gus any favors, truly, by paying or bribing people to eat his ‘creations.’ “ Giac punctuated his statement with air-quotes. “Honey, I know you mean well, but there’s nothing to be gained by it. He gets all excited and inventive, and then absolutely crushed when they don’t sell. It’s getting harder for me to pick up the pieces.” Giac shook his head. “I don’t think you should encourage him.”

  “But he wants to be creative and he says the bakery just isn’t enough anymore.” Bella sighed. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  Giac wiped down the Formica. “Oh honey, don’t you worry about that. He’ll never leave you. And neither will I. Why, you’re like the daughter we never had. We’ve watched you grow up. There is no way we’d leave you to fend for yourself against that werewolf you live with.” He shook his head and scrubbed the countertop a little harder. “If that judge had been more open-minded about Gus and I... Well, that’s water under the bigot bridge. But don’t you ever again worry that beautiful head of yours about us abandoning you.”

  Bella smiled and covered his hand. “You two are so good to me and Sophia. I just want you both to be happy. And if eggplant quiche and spinach donuts do that for Gus—”

  “Ugh. Don’t mention those words to me. I shudder when I even think of those concoctions. Now—” Giac turned her around, took the dishtowel from her hand and swept his fingers through her ponytail. “You swish your way over to that very interesting hottie and see what it is he really wants because it sure as heck isn’t Gus’s special.” He gave her a little push, flipped his hands in the air, then strutted back into the kitchen. “And I’ll see if I can get Gus to work on something productive, like a death-by-chocolate triple layer cake with whipped cream icing.”

  Great. Another argument.

  She momentarily considered taking Giac’s advice to go chat with Reese, but what, really, would be the point? Nothing would come of it. Madeleine was violently opposed to Bella having anything resembling a personal life that would take from the time she could be devoting to waiting on the woman hand and foot. It only took one threat to Sophia for Bella’s relationships to disappear—and not in a poof! of fairy dust.

  She grabbed the dishtowel off the counter and headed to an empty table—and refused to consider it a reflection of her life.

  Besides, Reese had enough people talking to him. Every time Bella glanced over—not that she did so a lot (well, okay, maybe more than she normally would if he were, say, Mr. Fazio)—someone else would be standing by his table. She couldn’t blame them; the guy did seem to have a magnetic personality. She should be relieved that she wasn’t the only one affected by him so she could put the whole attraction behind her.

  Could, but didn’t…

  “Number seven’s up.” Giac clanked a dish onto the counter.

  Bella took a breath, rolled her shoulders back, and retrieved Reese’s meal.

  “Go talk to him.” Giac smiled through clenched teeth.

  “I will.” She raised her eyebrows as she held up the plate she was about to deliver to said him.

  “No, I mean really talk to him.” Giac added a curly-cue orange rind to the edge of the plate with a heart-shaped strawberry beside it. Bella rolled her eyes. Subtlety was not Giac’s forte. “Honestly, Bella, you have to move forward with your life. You don’t want to spend your old age with Gus and I, do you?”

  That wasn’t why she headed to Reese’s table with a smile on her face. Or so she tried to tell herself. But just to prove it, she smiled at him, set the plate down, and then left.

  Or she would have if he hadn’t grabbed her wrist again, sending a bolt of lightning shooting up her arm. Her breath caught and Bella could swear she felt his touch with all seven layers of skin.

  Reese cleared his throat and released her arm. “I was, ah…” He motioned to his booth. “Sit for a moment?”

  Uh oh. This was not good. That spark between them—okay, bonfire—could not lead anywhere. But it didn’t stop her from sliding onto the seat opposite him.

  Reese stretched his long legs out of the booth, crossed them at the ankles, and looked at her. Just looked.

  “What did you want to talk about?” Bella thrummed her fingertips on the table.

  She’d probably be shocked at what he wanted to talk about.

  Reese shifted on the seat, his pants tighter than when he’d walked in, which, if she knew, would probably have her tossing the donuts into his lap and storming off, and that would be the last he ever saw of her. A tragedy he didn’t want to think about.

  Business, Charmant.

  Right. He told his hormones to take a chill and glanced around, trying to will some control back into his body.

  The place was packed and they were still coming in the door, testament to the restaurant’s reputation he’d gathered with a dozen reference calls after his conversation with Jake. Then there was Bella herself. Aside from the fact that she was gorgeous, he’d watched her before he’d come in. She’d had a smile for everyone who’s stopped her—and everyone had stopped her. Bella was obviously very well liked.

  He completely understood why.

  So, despite the sugar-coated, Popeye version of haggis on his plate, and a libido that was crying with the restrictions he was about to place on it, Reese took a deep breath and a leap of faith. “I’m interested in hiring you.”

  “I beg your pardon?” flew out of her mouth. Obviously, of all the words in the English language, those five were not the ones she’d expected to hear.

  They weren’t actually the ones he’d wanted to say to her, but the auction was fast approaching and he was low on options.

  “Let me rephrase that.” He leaned forward and used his fork to cut a piece of the donut so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. She even smelled good. Sugary sweet and a hint of spice. Which he so should not care about. All he should care about was if she could pull off the job.

  Reese straightened, leaning farther from her—but her scent merely followed him.

  Business, Charmant.

  He pulled his legs beneath the table and damn if his foot didn’t graze hers, which sparked another layer of awareness he didn’t need. “I know you bid on the hospital charity dinner and I want to offer you the job.”

  “You…” Now it was her turn to sit back. “Why? I thought that contract had already been awarded?”

  “There’s been a problem with it.”

  She nodded then nibbled on her lip.

  She had great lips.

  Business, Charmant…

  “We’ve got some top names to donate prizes and services for the hospital, and there are a lot of big hitter
s on the invitee list. We’re looking for upscale fare and white glove service, and I need a local caterer to handle both the cocktail hour and the sit-down dinner.” Fastest pitch he’d ever made, including the Hail Mary pass in the final game.

  Yeah, that was it; think of football. He’d always been able to think clearly on his feet in a game, and it’d keep him from noticing how a tendril of blonde hair curled down her neck to rest in the hollow of her collar bone.

  Or not.

  “Any chance you’re interested in me—uh, helping me?” Jeez. Talk about a fumble of epic proportions. “Doing the catering it, I mean.”

  He shoved the donut into his mouth—to prevent anything else escaping.

  The taste registered. And not in a good way. He was about to grab a napkin, but Bella blinked those South Pacific blues and he couldn’t look away to find one.

  “So I’m second best?”

  Not in his book and if he’d seen her, there was no way he would have given the contract to Marisa.

  Okay, maybe he would have, if only so he could ask Bella out. But it was just as well he hadn’t. Because he needed her, and not in a way his libido was crying out for.

  “No. It’s just that we’ve worked with Conlon’s before and your bids were similar. So I went with what I knew.” But what he knew right now was that he wanted to lick the crumb of something from the corner of her mouth. “I’ve called around and you have a great reputation. Any chance you’re interested? I’d be willing to bump up your bid by two percent.” Hell, he’d go with ten; he needed a caterer.

  She tapped her lip with a finger and that crumb fell away. Pity. “Make it three and you’ve got a deal.”

  “Done.” Reese exhaled. She was in.

  And so was he—in a whole lotta trouble.

  “I quit!” The cook stormed from the kitchen, crumpling his hat and tossing it to the counter.

  “Guiseppe Sorcio! You get back here right now!” The thin guy came running after him, but Guiseppe shrugged away from his touch.

  “You think you can do it better? Fine. Do it!” Guisepee’s tail wind whisked a stack of paper napkins to the floor as he stormed past, and the bells jangled angrily when he wrenched open the door to head out to the sidewalk.