Dreaming Dante (The Adamos Book 7)

by Mia Madison

  “Must be nice,” I say wistfully, and Gina shoots me a look. “But to get back to the point at hand, I’m just passing through. As soon as my car cools off and I’ve got her radiator topped up, and maybe her oil, we’ll be on the road again.”

  Gina cocks her head. “I mentioned that Adamo men are stubborn, right?”

  My temper flares. “Dante is just going to have to learn to deal with disappointment. I’m not a—”

  Charity case. The words hang unspoken between us. There’s a pause before Gina says, “I don’t usually tell people my history.”

  Whatever I was expecting her to say next, it wasn’t that. “You don’t?”

  “No. But if it’s all right, I’d like to tell you.”

  I have no idea where this is coming from, but curiosity and manners win out. “All right.”

  “I need to go check on my tables. I’ll put the pancake order in and be back in a minute.”

  I’m playing peek-a-boo with Sophie when she returns. Sitting opposite me again, Gina gives me a carefully edited story, sanitized for little ears. But it’s clear enough, despite what she leaves out or blurs the details of. By the time she’s done, there’s a lump in my throat.

  “That …” I shake my head. “I can’t imagine.”

  “Before I met Carlo, I didn’t really let anyone close. I was friends with the girls here, but they didn’t know my story. No one did.”

  Her implication is more than obvious, but I don’t rise to the bait. “I can understand that.”

  “Carlo had to fight me every inch of the way to help me, to get me to trust him. But he refused to quit on me.” Her mouth quirks up. “Like I said, stubborn.”

  Just what I need — some bullheaded man getting in my business.

  “Dante’s a little rough around the edges,” Gina says quietly. “But he has a good heart.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  Sophie bangs a hand on the table. “Tontay.”

  Gina’s face softens when she looks at my little girl. “So, long story short — no matter how long you’re here, if Dante’s determined to look out for you, you might as well let him. It’ll be less of a headache than fighting him. But I do understand that impulse to keep everyone at a distance.”

  “It’s complicated,” I say carefully.

  “I get that. If you want someone to talk to …” She pulls a card out of one of the pockets in her smock top, scrawls a number on the back, and hands it over. “Even if you’re just here for the day. I’m a good listener, and I won’t blab.”

  “Thanks, Gina. Really.”

  “Anytime; I mean it.” She looks around. “Back to work. Catch you later.”

  I’m surprised she didn’t badger me to order something. Sophie’s scribbling on her menu with crayons when a man slides into the booth across from me. He’s movie-star handsome, unlike Dante’s rugged features, but I fancy I see a resemblance.

  “Let me guess. You’re an Adamo.”

  He gives me an easy smile that does nothing to hide his intensity. “I’m Vic. I run the café. My other brother Rico runs the garage.”

  “All in the family.”

  “That’s right.”

  Gina brings Sophie’s pancake and sets it down. “It comes with a small drink. We have milk, orange juice, apple juice …”

  “Apple juice, please.”

  “You got it.” She leaves and I start cutting up the pancake. Vic watches in silence until I look across the table at him.

  “Do me a favor, Heather. Let me make you something.” I don’t answer. “It’ll make me feel better, and it’ll keep Dante happy. And unless I miss my mark, it might do you some good too.”

  These people are wearing me down with their relentless caring. I want to say no, but at this point it would be rude. Gina’s right — I’m better off surrendering.

  I don’t manage it with any particular grace, though. My “All right” sounds almost as reluctant as I feel. But Vic acts like he doesn’t notice.

  “Good. What do you like?”

  5

  Half Italian Already

  I shake my head. “Anything is fine. It doesn’t matter.”

  The glance Vic sends me is more than a little mischievous. “If you don’t pick something, I’ll just have to bring you one of everything.”

  Losing it in front of my daughter is not an option. She’s stopped eating and is eyeing our visitor with great interest, so I make the introduction. “Sophie, this is Vic.”

  “Bic,” she says magnanimously.

  “Hiya, Sophie.” His eyes are bright with amusement and what looks like delight. “How’s your pancake?”

  “Pantate.” She grabs a piece from her plate and offers it to him. He accepts it with grave solemnity and nibbles a bit off the end before giving it back, then raises his eyebrows at me.

  Despite myself, I’m charmed, but I try not to let it show. “Eggs. Scrambled.” My stomach chooses that moment to rumble loudly. “Okay, fine. A Denver omelet.”

  “Right. See ya, Sophie.”

  He’s gone before she says softly, “Thee ya, Bic.”

  Gina brings the apple juice, gives us a smile, and is off again. Sophie’s eating with gusto, so I don’t sample her pancake in case she wants more than her usual. To occupy myself, I pull a notepad and pen from my purse and start making a list of priorities.

  Someplace to live. A job. Both of those in a spot that’s far enough off the beaten path that I won’t be found. I’m not sure this town qualifies, and anyway, I need to avoid overbearing do-gooders.

  I’ve got a cheap burner phone to replace the regular cell I left behind, but I wonder if I should try to get a fake ID. I have no idea how to even go about that. Papers – investigate, I jot down.

  I’m still thinking when half a dozen plates land on my table. Besides the omelet there’s bacon, sausage, country potatoes, toast, and a bowl of fruit. Slowly, I raise my eyes to Vic, who’s sitting across from me again.

  “Comes with the omelet,” he says blandly. “Except the fruit, and that’s for your girl. Whatever the two of you don’t eat, we can box up. But listen – you ever done any waitressing?”

  Oh geez. Now he wants to give me a job? “Vic --”

  “See, Cait’s only in today because I’m short-handed. Now that she’s a married woman, she won’t be working here anymore, at least not regular. And Gina’s getting hitched soon.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m just here for the day.”

  Vic leans back and regards me in a way that sends unease skittering up my spine. For a moment, I have wild notions of some kind of Twilight Zone episode where it’s impossible to leave, and the road out of town only leads back in. “What?”

  “Thing is, Dante looked at your car.”

  I knew this was coming, but it still irks me. “He what?”

  “He’s a mechanic. It’s what he does.”

  “He runs the parts store,” I retort in a pathetic effort at splitting hairs. I know I’m not being rational, but Gilda is all I’ve got, my only possession outside of Sophie’s bare necessities. It feels like a violation for him to look at her without my permission. “Anyway, I locked her.”

  Vic doesn’t tell me I’m acting like a crazy woman. “Cars are easy to open if you know how, and you said she was overheating. He didn’t want you driving out of town and breaking down.”

  Exactly what he told me. I know in my gut, if I’m honest, that Gilda needs more than water and oil. “All right. Lay it on me.”

  “The good news is, your radiator’s okay. Bad news, you’ve got some cracked hoses and you need a new water pump. Plus, your tires are threadbare.”

  I close my eyes. “I can’t afford all that.” It comes out in a whisper. “I can barely afford a quart of oil.”

  Vic waits until I’m looking at him again. “You could stay here a few days, work off your bill. Honestly, Heather, you can’t afford not to fix her.”

  I sigh. “You’re right, of course. But a motel
…”

  “We’ll figure out somewhere for you to stay.”

  Oh, no no no. “Vic—”

  “Heather. I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but there are a lot of Adamos. You have a baby, and you’re pretty cute yourself. My family’s gonna be lining up for the chance to have you stay with them.”

  The cute comment gets him a look, and he holds up his hands. “I’m a happily engaged man. I’m just saying, all the nonnas are gonna think you’re as adorable as your girl here.”

  “Nonna?” Sophie queries.

  He grins. “That’s right, sweetheart. Nonna. That means grandmother.”

  “Nonna.”

  “Good girl. Can you say linguini?”

  She waves her hands, excited by another new word. “Weenie.”

  “There you go. You’re half Italian already.” He gives me a wink. “Stay here, relax, eat. We’ll get it all sorted out.”

  Only when he’s gone does the enormity of my situation hit me. I can’t work without daycare, and I can’t just hand my daughter over to strangers. But I have to do something or I’ll be stranded here.

  I’m still wracking my brain for alternatives when Sophie says, “Tontay!”

  6

  Tontay

  I look up and there he is, sliding into my booth. I can feel him against my skin, the strength of his presence, even from a few feet away. He’s like a force of nature, dangerous and uncontrollable.

  “You’re not my type.” I blurt it out, like an idiot, because he unnerves me in a way no man ever has.

  A slow, devastatingly sexy smile curves his mouth. “Is that so?”

  Oh lord. I cannot believe I said that out loud. “You have to stop being nice to me.”

  “And if I don’t?” His eyes are laughing, until they scan my plates of food. “You’re not eating.”

  I bury my face in my hands, fighting for composure. “Tontay,” Sophie says insistently. For the first time ever, I’m not thrilled with her language acquisition skills.

  “What’s she saying?”

  Damned man. “It’s her favorite cartoon. The Adventures of Tontay.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh, you watch a lot of cartoons?”

  Even someone having a slow day wouldn’t miss the sarcasm, and Dante Adamo shows no signs of being slow. “Careful,” he says softly.

  “Are you threatening me?” I fold my arms. “Very manly of you.”

  For half a second, real temper flashes in his eyes. If I weren’t already as far away from him as it’s possible to get without leaving the booth, I’d be scampering backward.

  He tilts his head toward Sophie. “So we’re clear, I’d never lay a finger on her.” His voice deepens. “You, on the other hand, might need a spanking.”

  Electric heat rushes through my body. The way he said that – low, intimate, as if we were already lovers. I’ve never played those kinds of games, but I’m suddenly eager to explore.

  If I believed in magic, I’d think he was some kind of wizard, casting spells on me. The kind I don’t want to escape from.

  “Vic said he told you about your car.” I’m surprised he’s not pressing his advantage with me — until his next words. “If you don’t want to wait tables, you can work in the parts store.”

  “That’s okay,” I say hastily. “I can work in the restaurant.”

  That sexy smile wreaks more damage on my defenses. He studies me for a moment, then throws a curveball. “Your car’s a piece of junk.”

  “She is not!”

  “Yeah, she is. You’re lucky she’s still running.”

  It’s like he’s insulting my only friend. I have to defend her. “It’s not her fault.”

  “No, it’s not.” He changes the subject, and I’m not sure whether it’s to spare me. “Now stop talking to me and eat.”

  Glaring at him again is pointless, but I do it anyway. “I’m gonna sit here until you do,” he goes on, “so if you want to get rid of me, you know how.”

  Talk about blatant manipulation. I don’t want to follow his orders, but if I don’t, I’m stuck with him. Picking up my fork, I cut off a bite of omelet and jam it into my mouth.

  Vic comes over to the table. “Everything okay?”

  “Bic!” Sophie exclaims before I can say anything.

  “Hiya, Sophie.”

  Dante says, “She calls you Bic?”

  Vic grins like he’s gotten a medal from the Queen. “Yeah.”

  Dante glances at me, then leans toward Sophie. “What’s my name?”

  “Tontay!” she cries proudly.

  Dante sends me a look that says if we were alone, I’d definitely be getting a spanking. It makes me squirm. I concentrate on my food so I don’t have to look at the brothers, and there’s one of those pauses that makes me think they’re exchanging meaningful glances over my head.

  Ignoring them, I keep eating. The omelet is amazing, maybe the best I’ve ever had. My taste buds are singing the Hallelujah Chorus with every bite.

  Cautiously, I sample the bacon. It’s perfect, crispy but not burned. I have to close my eyes as I chew, the pleasure is so intense. I’m about to have a foodgasm.

  When I open them again, Dante’s watching me. Or, to be more precise, my mouth. And the look on his face says it’s not food he wants to be tasting.

  7

  Sorry, Kid

  Every muscle in my body tightens with awareness; every nerve hums with anticipation. Clearly, it’s been way too long since I got laid, since I’m getting horny about a man who is totally not my type and whom I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of having an actual relationship with.

  Deliberately, I look away from him and smile at Vic, who’s still standing by the booth. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He sends his brother a look I can’t decipher and boops the tip of Sophie’s nose with a finger, making her giggle. With a wave, he heads back to the kitchen, and she turns her head to watch him go.

  I need to get out of this town. It won’t do me or my daughter any good to get attached to people here. Which means getting my car fixed. “How long will the repairs take?”

  Dante’s all business now. “We gotta order some of the parts. Two, three days, most likely.”

  That’s tolerable. I have a couple of friends from my early years that I’ve stayed in touch with. They both live in the opposite direction from here, which should have bought me some time. With luck, I can get back on the road before they catch up to me.

  Without luck … no, I can’t think about that. I have to believe everything will work out somehow.

  He’s watching me with eyes that see too much, so I say, “Sounds good.” I have to force the next words out. “Thanks for your help.”

  Dante snorts. “You’d rather stick a fork in my eye. Hope you don’t have your sights set on Hollywood.”

  I badly want to say something rude to him, but I can’t in front of Sophie. I’m reduced to glaring again, which bothers him not at all.

  “I got shit to do,” he announces. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Language,” I growl.

  “Sorry, kid.”

  “Her name is Sophie.” It comes out in a snap because I am ready to leap across the table and strangle him, not that I’d succeed if I tried.

  Dante solemnly tells my little girl, “Sophie, don’t say shit.”

  “Tit!”

  His mouth quirks up. He can afford to be amused by this; I cannot. When he catches my eye he has the grace to look sheepish, but only for a moment.

  Sliding from the booth, he reaches down one big hand and wraps one of her curls around his finger. My hair is straight as a stick; the curl comes from Sophie’s father. It’s the only good thing he ever gave her, besides the fact of her existence.

  Sophie looks up, her big brown eyes fixed on his with all the innocence and curiosity of childhood.

  “You be good for your mom, okay?”

  “O
tay, Tontay.”

  He smiles, a little with his mouth, more with his eyes. Their gentle warmth wrenches at something in my heart.

  With a parting glance at me, he heads out. For such a big man, he moves quickly, and quietly. When he’s gone, the space around us feels strange, as if he’s left a vacuum behind him.

  Sophie has eaten almost all of her pancake. I share my fruit with her, and when Gina comes by, I ask her to box up the rest of my food. “And is there a park somewhere nearby?”

  “We have several parks in town, but none close by. In this heat, I wouldn’t want to suggest you walk to any of them. But hang on.”

  Pulling out her phone, she makes a call. “Hey, babe. How’s your day going? I’m good.”

  I bet she doesn’t even know she has a sappy smile on her face, and if she does realize it she doesn’t care. “I miss you too. Listen, we’ve got a mom with a little girl here in the café, and her car’s in the shop. Who’d be up for a play date?”

  Gina listens for a moment, then looks at me. “How old is Sophie?”

  “Twenty months.”

  She relays this information, listens, then laughs. “Oh, you heard already? Right. Yeah, that’d be good. Okay, thanks. Love you too, babe.”

  Ending the call, she smiles at me. “Someone should be here before long to pick you and Sophie up.”

  “I’ll need to get her car seat. And maybe her stroller.”

  “I think whoever’s coming has a car seat that will work for her, but I’ll message Carlo and make sure he knows. If it turns out you need them, we can get them, but there’s no point you lugging extra stuff around if you don’t have to.”

  Seeing the wisdom in this, I relax again. A few minutes later, a tall, gorgeous brunette comes into the café. She heads right for us and sits opposite me.

  8

  Oblivion

  “Hi, I’m Isabella, one of the gazillion Adamos in town. I won’t bore you with the family tree. Call me Izzy — everyone else does.”