Nic
Rossi Brothers, Book 2
J.M. Stewart
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright ©2016 by Joanne Stewart.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance™
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-9955-6
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9955-2
eISBN 10: 1-4405-9956-4
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-9956-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © FRANCESCO CURA/Getty Images.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More from This Author
Also Available
Available Now
This one’s for my mother, gone two years now. She was a single mother and one of the strongest women I know. No matter how hard life got, she never failed to make sure I knew I was loved and wanted.
Chapter One
“I’m looking for Nic Rossi?”
Nic set down his coffee cup and dragged his gaze from the endless stack of schedules and inventory sheets in front of him, turning to the woman standing at the table beside him. Technically, the restaurant had closed a half an hour ago. The dining room sat empty, save for him and his two servers, Julie and Beth, who quietly moved through the nightly cleanup routine. Clearly, one of them had let this woman in. The question was, why?
“You found him.” He rubbed his tired eyes, hoping to rouse himself a bit, and offered her a smile.
Whoever she was, she made quite the picture. She couldn’t have been more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Her well-worn jeans contained several holes, and her threadbare brown jacket looked like it let in more cold air than it kept out. She stood with a protective arm around a young girl, who couldn’t have been more than six. This side of too thin, both looked in need of a good hefty plate of pasta, as his nonna would say.
What on earth had dragged her out in the pouring rain at nine-thirty at night? With a child? Angel Bay, Washington, boasted barely two thousand residents. Bustling during the daylight hours, their town had long since gone to bed. Seated on the coast of Whidbey Island, one of the five islands out in Puget Sound, Angel Bay was the kind of small where everybody knew everybody else, and he was pretty sure he’d never seen her before.
He slid from the booth and extended his hand in greeting. As soon as he got to his feet, the young girl’s eyes widened, and she slipped behind her mother. Nic froze, his friendly greeting lodging in his throat.
“She’s not too keen on strangers.” The woman stroked the girl’s back, flashing a smile that didn’t match the anxiety dancing in her eyes.
He always told his three-year-old daughter, Ella, not to talk to strangers. But as the girl peeked around her mother’s arm, her eyes filled with a fear that sent a cold chill sweeping his spine.
Hoping, somehow, to appear less intimidating, he squatted to the girl’s level and braced his elbows on his knees. “I’m pretty big, huh? My baby sister used to call me Big Bird. I promise I don’t bite.”
The girl disappeared behind the woman, her little hands gripping the woman’s jacket until her knuckles turned white.
Nic sighed and pushed to his feet, extending his hand again. “How can I help you?”
The woman darted a glance around the empty dining room before pulling her shoulders back and shoving her hand into his. “Sarah Wheaton. I need a job, Mr. Rossi.”
“It’s Nic.” He pulled his hand back and stuffed both into the pockets of his slacks. “Kind of late to be out. We could do this tomorrow, you know. I’m here at nine every morning.”
It wasn’t any of his damn business, but the more he looked at her, the more the local women’s shelter came to mind. Ice-blue eyes identical to her daughter’s held a kind of fatigue that hinted at a hard life. The way they continued to flit around the dining room, as if she were afraid he’d jump on her, filled his mind with possibilities he prayed were wrong.
“I know. I’m sorry to bother you so late. I’m sure you’re tired, but we’ve been on the road all day. We’ve been traveling, and my savings have run out.” Sarah looked down at the floor and shook her head. “I don’t even know where we’re going to stay tonight. There’s no room at the motel in town. Something about a convention in Oak Harbor and overflow tourists?”
He nodded. “There’s a writers’ convention over in Oak Harbor. When the local hotels fill up, they direct people to the surrounding towns.”
Sarah blew out a defeated breath and clasped her hands together. “The lady at the motel said she thought she remembered an ad in the paper, saying you needed a waitress. Told me to ask for you specifically. Frankly, I need a job or my daughter doesn’t eat. I can do anything you set in front of me—I’m good with people, and I’m a fast learner.”
If Mrs. Ellison sent her over, it meant she’d seen the same things he had in Sarah’s demeanor. It bothered him. More than a little. And was it a trick of the low lighting, or were those tears glistening in her eyes? What the hell had these two been through?
He folded his arms for something to do with his hands. He wanted to hug the stuffing out of them. Not that he could or it would even be enough. Every time he visited the women’s shelter in Oak Harbor and every single time he sat playing with children who’d seen too much of life’s ugliness, the same feeling hit him.
So, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He’d help Sarah and her daughter in the small ways he could, provided Sarah would even allow him to. “When was the last time you two ate?”
Sarah stiffened, dropped her gaze to the floor, and shook her head. “I’m not here to bother you, Mr. Rossi, I—”
“Nic.”
She looked up, brows lifted in surprise. Her gaze searched his for a moment before she let out a weary sigh. “I’m just hoping you have a job you need to fill.”
Despite her protest, her stomach growled, not loudly but enough that he heard it. A deep crimson rushed into her cheeks, and her free hand slid to her tummy. The little girl tugged on her sleeve, peering at her mother with keen interest.
“You’re not bothering me. I was about to make myself something to eat. I skipped dinner in favor of paperwork, and I’m starved.” He patted his stomach and moved around her, heading for the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. “Come on. We can talk while we eat.”
“Mr. Rossi, I can’t pay you.”
Her voice stopped him cold two tables away. When he looked
back, she stood staring at the floor, her arms now wrapped around her daughter, her cheeks tomato red. That answered his previous questions but only brought more.
He furrowed his brow as he turned to face her. Please let my suspicions be wrong. “Tell me something. Where do you plan on sleeping tonight?”
She twisted her hands together. Several seconds ticked out before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don’t know. Probably in the car. It’s not a big deal. We’ve done it before. You don’t need to worry about it. I just hadn’t anticipated the motels being full, being on an island and all.”
Sleep in the car? Was she kidding? The rainy season that normally ran from fall until mid-spring had yet to let up. Normally by early July, the summer sun’s welcoming warmth should have long since settled in. Outside, the wind howled, the cool rain that hadn’t let up all day battering the side of the building.
Right now, his daughter Ella was asleep beside her best friend, his four-year-old niece, Alyssa, safe and warm, at his brother Luc’s house. His brother’s wife, Liz, would tuck them in, kiss them goodnight. The idea of this little girl bedding down on a narrow backseat left him cold. Did they even have blankets?
He shook his head. “It’s supposed to go down to fifty-five tonight. That’s colder than you think. We’ll find you a place to stay. And dinner’s on me. This place used to belong to my grandparents. My nonna was quite literally the little Italian grandmother who fed everybody. Her motto, what keeps this place running, is treat people like famiglia. Family.”
He’d grown up in this restaurant, watching Nonna woo the customers and Nonno, who’d done most of the cooking, toss the pizza dough. He could almost hear Nonna tsk and start to fuss. “Go get them something to eat, tesoro,” she’d have said.
He offered another smile, this one more playful, in hopes of lifting what had to be a heavy burden. “Nonna would roll over in her grave if she knew I let you leave with empty stomachs. She taught me better. The only question now is, who wants meatballs?”
The little girl peeked at him, interest illuminating her eyes. He was getting somewhere, at least.
“Ah, I see we have a taker.” He winked then turned to head for the kitchen again. “Come on. We’ll go see what we can dig up. Surely we can find some leftover breadsticks to go with the pasta. I’m not taking no for an answer, so you might as well give in.”
“Why are you doing this?”
With one hand on the stainless steel swinging door leading into the kitchen, he looked back. Sarah and her daughter stood a few feet behind him. The disbelief written in her gaze said more than words could. He suspected what she really needed was someone she could trust. She needed a friend, and God help him; he had the sudden desire to be that someone.
He released the door and turned fully toward her. “Because I have a daughter who means the world to me. Her name is Ella, and she’s three. I can’t imagine being in your position, not knowing if I’ll be able to feed her today, and it’s within my power to help.”
She stared at him for a moment, her expression blank. Then she arched a brow. “Do you have spot you need filled?”
“Yes, I do. One of our girls had a baby and quit a few months ago. I had to fire her replacement. I need an experienced waitress. We have patrons who’ve been coming here for years. My grandparents set a certain standard people have come to expect. I need workers who can keep my customers happy.”
She hiked her chin a notch. “I can do this job, Mr. Rossi.”
He wanted to laugh. She had spunk. Damn, he admired the hell out of her.
“I told you. It’s Nic.” He arched a brow right back at her. “How much waitressing experience do you have?”
For a moment, the glint in her eyes dulled and her shoulders rounded, answering the question. He was about to offer a compromise when her gaze jerked to his.
She straightened her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height, which couldn’t have been more than five foot nothing. “Give me a week.”
He barely managed to contain his smile. Spunk indeed. “A week?”
She nodded. “A week to prove myself. If I can’t learn this job to your standards, then you can let me go.”
He folded his arms and set his brow. “On one condition.”
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and bit down, but her bold gaze never wavered. “All right.”
“You have to let me make you and your daughter dinner.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Rossi.” She flashed the tiniest of smiles, more of a tugging at the corners of her mouth, but the gesture stunned him momentarily.
His grin had to be smug, but he couldn’t help it. He’d won, and he was damn glad, because the thought of her leaving here made his gut tighten.
“For the last time, my name is Nic. Mr. Rossi was my grandfather. And yes, I can be tough when I need to be, but I’m always fair.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen door. “Come on. Let’s go raid the ’fridge. While we’re in there, I’ll introduce you to my brother, Luc.”
• • •
Anna Thompson looked up from her plate, peering at the hulking giant sitting in the booth across from her. Nic twirled the last bit of spaghetti on his plate, watching her with careful eyes as he stuffed the bite into his mouth and chewed. After introducing her to his older brother, who owned half the restaurant and worked as the head chef, Nic had indeed raided the ’fridge. He’d made three heaping plates of spaghetti and meatballs, complete with salad and what smelled like fresh garlic breadsticks.
The man made her insides shake. The resemblance was uncanny at best, terrifying at worst. If it weren’t for the other two waitresses, moving silently around the dining room as they cleaned up for the night, she wouldn’t have stayed. He looked so much like Tony her throat kept closing, making swallowing her dinner difficult. Both had the same dark brown hair and olive complexion so common in men of Italian descent. Nic’s eyes were different, though. Tony was dark all over, including his midnight eyes. Nic’s were a beautiful shade of amber, and, so far, always seemed to hold a hint of a smile.
She couldn’t deny he was good-looking. Ten years ago, before Tony, she might have flirted. But he stood a good head and shoulders above her, his body thickly muscled. The power behind his large, muscular frame made her stomach lurch.
Nic set his fork on the side of his plate and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He inclined his head at Lacey. “She was hungry.”
Nic had given her enough pasta for a grown man, but Lacey had cleaned her plate. She’d then curled up in the corner of the booth and fallen asleep sitting up.
“And exhausted.” Anna shook her head, her face warming. “You must think I’m a horrible mother.”
What kind of mother couldn’t provide even a meal and a warm bed for her child?
Nic leaned back in the booth, studying her with shrewd eyes, as if he could see too much and had already figured her out. “Actually, I don’t. It takes guts to admit you have nowhere to sleep to a complete stranger.”
She shouldn’t have pushed them so hard this time. She should have stopped in Oregon, when Lacey begged her to camp on the beach again. Then at least they could have started tomorrow with a full belly, and with any luck, she might have found another job at a gas station, where she could work for a while to earn more money before they pushed on.
She’d been desperate to come here, to this tiny little town on an island in the middle of Puget Sound. Tony had gotten too close the last time, and she’d run again, terrified he’d find them. Hope for a better life and sheer, stubborn determination were the only things keeping her going anymore.
“Why here? ’Cause I’m assuming you don’t have any family in town.”
Unable to meet his gaze, Anna pushed her last meatball around her plate. Those eyes would be her downfall if she let them. They were too kind. He’d been nothing but generous and she’d fed him lies. She hadn’t even told him her real name. But if Anna Thompson showed up on record again
, Tony would find her for sure.
She shrugged. “Someone told me this was a nice place to raise kids. I met a man in California who raved about it. The way he described it made it sound beautiful.”
She yearned to give Lacey a place to call home. She wasn’t doing such a good job of taking care of her daughter. Lacey didn’t have the kind of life Anna wanted for her.
The intensity of Nic’s scrutiny burned into her. Maybe if she were lucky the seat would open up and swallow her whole.
“I’m a good listener, you know.”
The gentle urging in his tone made her look up. He continued to study her. His expressive eyes told her clearly “what you see is what you get” and the urge to share her burden hit her hard. She hadn’t confided in anyone in going on three years now, but the kindness in his eyes twisted at the part of her that wanted … more.
Instead, she blew out her held breath, pushed her plate away, and offered him a smile. “Thanks for the meal. I will repay you. I need to get her to bed. What time would you like me to be here tomorrow?”
She scooted out of the booth, but his hand caught her arm before she could turn to pick up Lacey. Blood whooshed in her ears, and breathing became impossible as panic clawed its way through her chest. Tony’s face lodged itself in her mind. Eyes narrowed and staring her down.
The way he looked right before his fist came down on her …
He’s not Tony. He’s not Tony. She repeated the long-held mantra over and over and drew slow, deep breaths in an effort to put a lid back on the panic. Still the room around her spun as the past closed in on her.
“The meal’s on me, remember? You can pay me back by letting me help you.”
Nic’s voice jerked her back to the present. She lifted her head to find him watching her, gentle concern in his searching eyes. Was he really this nice? Or was this just a ruse, the way it had been for Tony? She didn’t know, but she had no desire to find out. She didn’t need his help. She just needed a job.
Nic Page 1
