by Angie Pepper
What he couldn’t have known was that ever since the day Luca had walked into Gardenia Flowers, Tina had stepped up her game with her appearance. Instead of throwing on shorts and whatever shirt wasn’t wrinkled, she actually spent time picking out clothes. Just in case he came in. She’d been shaving her legs every day. And not just to the knees.
He grinned at her. “You must be thinking about something juicy,” he said. “You’ve got mischief all over your face.”
She rubbed her stomach. “Just thinking about waffles.”
They arrived at Delilah’s. The restaurant was impossible to miss, with its eight-foot-tall teapot perched high above the door. The building sat on the corner of the block and was a local landmark.
They walked in, and the waitress, Maggie, seated them in a big corner booth. Maggie gave Luca the stink eye but didn’t say anything. The booths were normally reserved for larger parties, but the place was quiet, even for a Thursday morning. They’d gotten lucky with their timing. On the weekends, the brunch lineup circled the block.
“That’s quite the teapot over the door,” Luca said. “If I wasn’t afraid of you teasing me, I might even say it’s cute.”
“It’s one of the things Baker Street is famous for,” she said. “Back when I was little, when Delilah still worked here, the teapot was flat and made out of plywood. It was getting worn out, and the city thought it was a hazard. One gust of wind, and it could have sailed down the street, causing an accident. It happened with the shoe repair shop, which is why they have the small sign now. Anyway, Delilah didn’t want to get rid of it, so she got some kids from the art college to make her something as a school project. The base is steel, or pure iron, I think—”
“It’s steel,” he said.
“Good eye.”
“I do know my alloys. Plus nothing is made of pure iron anymore.” He gestured for her to go on.
“And the teapot itself is made from Styrofoam. They sanded it really smooth and coated it with a hardener. When you see it in person, you can see the flaws, but in photos, it looks like it’s made of porcelain.”
Maggie returned with tea for Tina, and coffee plus more stink eye for Luca. She took their order and left them again.
Since they were already talking about Styrofoam, Tina told Luca about her adventures trying to cut letters for a sign for the flower shop. It had been a failure.
“You can’t cut the foam with a bread knife,” Tina said. “I mean, you can, and that’s what they recommend if you’re using it in construction, but it doesn’t give you a smooth, paintable edge. You have to use a hot wire and melt your way through, but nobody’s hand is steady enough to cut it straight. Most of the commercial signs you see around town are cut by lasers.”
Luca said, “You sure talk a lot about Styrofoam for a first date.”
“Styrofoam is highly underrated,” she said. “You can use it to make giant boulders that you can throw at people without killing them. Like my sister.”
“Megan? She could definitely take a Styrofoam boulder or two.”
“She’d probably enjoy it,” Tina said, then, “You just called this a date, Luca. I thought this was supposed to be a networking meeting, for you to pump me for information about the locals.”
“This definitely counts as a date. This is number one.”
“Oh, we’re counting. Interesting.” She looked down and fiddled around with the tea bag in her teapot, which was a miniature version of the giant teapot over the entrance. Why was he counting dates?
“Number one,” he repeated.
“If you say so,” she said, then it hit her. She’d read about this on dating websites over the years. Date number four was supposedly the magic number. The date that your pants magically disappeared. Was Luca implying that he was only three dates away from getting into her pants? Pretty bold for a guy who kept asking her to make bouquets for other women.
“Your sister said you don’t date very much,” Luca said. He was speaking softly, but his voice was so deep and rich that it cut easily through her internal chatter.
“I don’t.”
“Your sister didn’t say why.”
“I’ve been on a few first dates, but not many second dates. Maybe I’m too old fashioned, calling them dates. My sister says I’m twenty-nine going on seventy. Do people even date anymore?”
“They do.”
“But mostly, people do hookups. Or there’s this gradual transition that you don’t notice. One minute you’re just friends, like in a group of friends, and then you’re together.”
“Is that how it works?” His sky-blue eyes were locked on her. His focus and presence were almost overwhelming. He wasn’t just waiting for his next chance to talk. He was listening.
Tina’s eyes burned, and her chest ached. She couldn’t handle this. He was too intense. Why was she talking so much? Her voice was starting to remind her of Megan talking, blathering on and saying nothing. Just taking up attention.
“Luca, I really need to get back to the shop. What if...”
Just then, Maggie arrived with their food.
She gave Luca a stern look. “I hear you’re the man who bought Ralph’s Garage,” she said. It was not a friendly conversational opener. More of an accusation.
He looked up and gave her a charming smile. “I am that man. We’ll be reopening soon.”
Maggie, who was fifty and had an impressive scowl, didn’t smile back. “I’ve been taking my Honda to Ralph’s since the day I bought it,” she said. The edge in her voice said she was more than willing to give up her future tip in exchange for expressing her feelings in the present.
“I hope you’ll keep bringing your Honda in,” Luca said. “We’ll have some service bays dedicated to bikes, but I do have a plan to retain all the loyal Ralph’s Garage customers.”
The scowl eased slightly. “Really?”
He turned up the sunshine on his grin. “It’s my personal pledge,” he said. He glanced at her name tag. “Maggie, I solemnly vow to keep you satisfied.”
Maggie’s face lost a decade’s worth of scowl lines. She twirled a lock of dyed-auburn hair around her finger. “I like the sound of that.” She turned to me. “You want more hot water, Tina?”
“Whenever you get a minute,” I said.
“More coffee for me,” Luca said.
Maggie patted him on the shoulder in a motherly way. “Your last cup was old. I’m surprised you got it down. But don’t you worry, honey. I’ll put on a fresh pot. Just for you.”
After she left, Tina said to Luca, “That was impressive, Mr. Lowell. I bet you could charm the pants right off a pants salesman.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. And thank you again for warning me about the locals. Your idea wasn’t exactly new to me. I was on the fence about keeping a bay for servicing cars, but then you did your own magic, and you helped me make up my mind. A person could say that you talked my pants right off.”
“And then you talked my pants off, and got me to play hookie from work to have breakfast with you.”
“And now neither of us is wearing any pants at all.”
Tina picked up her utensils and contemplated a plan of attack for her giant waffle.
“Who needs pants,” she said.
“Pants just get in the way,” he agreed.
“For our next date, pants are optional.”
He murmured a wordless agreement.
“Not literally,” she said. “That was just a joke.”
He shrugged.
She blushed furiously and dug into her waffle.
As Tina ate, she gave herself another talking to. Tina, do not think about pants-optional activities with Luca. Do not think about kissing him, or any of the jungle gym stuff. Calm down, girl. This is only date one.
And besides, there’s something very wrong with Luca that you haven’t figured out. He’s always sending women flowers to apologize. Take it slow, and figure out what’s wrong with him before you even consider going pan
ts-optional.
Luca’s fork and knife squeaked on his plate. The white dish was nearly bare. His omelet and hash browns were gone.
Tina watched in awe as he inhaled a triangle-shaped piece of toast in two bites. The man ate food like he was loading coal into the furnace of a steam engine. The last guy she’d dated had been a vegan who didn’t enjoy eating anything but candy. He’d been the one who’d gotten her hooked on fuzzy peaches. He’d given her his stash when he discovered that the brand he’d bought in bulk was made using gelatin, or, as he called it, hoof juices.
Luca caught Tina watching him. He slowed down the furnace-loading operation.
“I do have manners,” he said. “I guess I forgot them back at the garage.”
“Eating quickly must come in handy sometimes,” she said. “It would fend off my sister, who’s always taking food from me.”
He held up his knife. “That’s what this is for. Meal defense.”
“Luckily, our mother helped us get past the stage of development where meals ended in stabbings.”
“Sounds like a good woman.” He pointed to the tray of miniature spreads. “Is that marmalade?”
She passed it over, then watched with amusement as he delicately spread marmalade on the remaining slices of toast.
She couldn’t take her eyes off his hands. His finger didn’t fit through the tiny handle on the coffee cup, so he held the cup loosely in one hand. The small white cup looked like a miniature kid’s toy in his palm.
Tina longed to turn into a small white cup and disappear in those hands.
They made small talk for a while, about Delilah’s, the weather, the neighborhood, the city. Luca didn’t volunteer any personal details, and Tina didn’t ask. Later, after the date, she would regret not asking about the women he’d bought bouquets for, but it wasn’t on her mind that morning at breakfast. For once, she wasn’t worrying about the future or living in the past. It was wonderful to be where she was, in the present, with Luca. Plus she had waffles.
Luca asked, “How long have you been working at the flower shop?”
“My mother bought the business when I was five. I’ve never worked anywhere else.”
“College?”
“I’ve started a few different courses. Nothing finished.”
“Starting things is easy. Finishing is tough.”
“How about you? College?”
“This and that. Mostly I traveled around. Who wants to stick around in one place like a tree? We’ve got two legs for a reason. I did an apprenticeship in Australia for a year.”
“You’re the exact opposite of me. I’ve never left the country. My life must seem claustrophobic to you.”
He studied her quietly for a moment.
She chewed some more of her food. She realized she was full, so she set down her utensils and pushed the plate away.
“What’s Australia like?”
“I’ll buy you a book,” he said. “You don’t want to hear me talk about some place you’ve never been.”
“I might.”
“They have kangaroos,” he said. “Seriously, I’ll get you a book.”
“Sure.”
“How are you liking this date?”
“I think it’s going well.”
“If I ask you to come to the paint store with me and help me pick out paint colors, will that count as date number two?”
“No. It would just be a continuation of this date, number one. Also, I really should be getting back to the shop. There’s always paperwork to do, and phone orders. It will be good to catch up on a few things.”
“All work and no play...”
She finished his line with “Is good for catching up on paperwork.”
He nodded for Maggie to bring over the bill.
“In that case, I’ll have to brave the paint store on my own.” Dramatically, he added, “All by myself.”
“I’m sure that a big, strong guy like you will be just fine.”
“What if I have a paint color emergency? Who am I going to call?”
“You could put in a phone call to your local florist. I hear they’re good with things like color.”
“What if I have a paint color emergency when you’re not at the shop? Would I have to deal with your sister and all of her sense of humor?”
“You could text me. On my personal number.”
He whipped out his phone, typed something in, then handed it to her. “Fill this in for me, would you?”
She put in her number. He’d named her in his contacts as Flower Shop Girl, Great Legs, Nice Smile, Kinda Bossy.
She glanced up and saw that he was grinning. He’d meant for her to see that.
Did the games ever stop?
Chapter 8
Tina’s best friend pulled a hot baking tray full of nacho chips from the oven. The chips were covered in melted cheese, ground beef, and bacon.
The girls were in Tina’s little house, and Rory was wearing a hair net over her dark, curly hair. Rory worked in catering, so she always had hair nets in her pockets, and she always wore them. For Rory, seeing hair in food, even if she knew it was her own hair, made her sick.
The nacho chips had all slid to one side. The oven was a tiny European model, since a regular stove wouldn’t have fit in the compact kitchen. Tina had never found baking trays that fit perfectly, so she’d kept using the ones she borrowed from the main house, propping up one side inside the oven with a small ceramic trivet. The trays would fit, if they were at a ten-degree angle.
Rory said, “This toy oven of yours is ridiculous.”
“No. You’re ridiculous,” Tina said. That was one of their little games. Rory would make a comment about something, and Tina would turn it around to be about Rory. It was juvenile, but they’d been friends for so long.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Rory had come over to hang out until Luca came by at eight o’clock for a second date.
Ever since Tina gave Luca her phone number over breakfast at Delilah’s, he’d been messaging her. First, it had been about paint colors. Then, about the merits of brushed silver cabinet handles versus polished brass. Eventually, he’d bargained that he’d stop bugging her about dinner on Friday—he was busy with the renovation, anyway—if she’d let him take her to a movie on Saturday.
As soon as he made the offer, Tina had frozen up. It was one thing to goof around with Luca in person, in the moment, but this was a formal invitation. Or as formal as things got in the era of smartphones. It was a clear and direct question, for which there could only be a yes or a no answer. It was like being asked to prom. It was a big deal.
She said no and made up a fake excuse. She even convinced herself that she did need to be home Saturday night, using her new rake to remove moss from the lawn before it took over.
But then Rory found out, and Rory turned on the waterworks again. She was even more dramatic than she’d been in the car on the way home from the spa weekend. Rory had sniffed her way through a long, complicated speech about how her own phobias were hurting others, and that she was an anchor on Tina’s life. She’d used the word anchor multiple times, along with other boat and sailing metaphors.
Tina suspected the tears were fake, since the speech about sailors and sirens was a little too polished, but Tina had eventually given in to Rory’s wishes.
It was just a movie, after all. As far as second dates went, it would be an easy one. How hard could it be to sit in the dark with someone in a public place, not talking, just eating candies and popcorn?
Rory removed the hair net, stood as far back from the nachos as she could inside the tiny house, and shook out her curly dark hair. Her solitary white streak peeked through. Rory’s hair was a few shades darker than Tina’s, except for one streak of white near the temples. She used to dye the streak dark, just so people wouldn’t ask if she had paint in her hair and try to touch it. Lately, she’d been letting it grow out.
Rory kept looking over at the clock that sat on Tina’s fireplace
mantel, in her shrine of photos. Rory didn’t usually check the time so much. Just like how she knew everyone else’s schedules, she seemed to always know exactly what time it was.
She had to have been nervous about Luca coming over. When Tina had agreed to the date, Rory had promised to stick around so she could meet Luca. However, judging by her furtive glances at the clock, Tina knew it was more likely Rory would freak out and run off before he arrived.
“Relax,” Tina said.
“Since when did saying that word ever help anyone relax?”
“You’re right. Feel free to stress out as much as you’d like.”
“How long is the movie going to take?” Rory checked the clock again.
“Aren’t they usually around two hours, give or take?”
“Is it a nine o’clock showing? That should get you home by eleven-thirty.”
“I didn’t know I had a curfew.”
“You don’t. But you have to let me know the minute you get in. I won’t be able to sleep or do anything until I know you’re back home, safe and sound.”
“Would it make you feel any better if I promised you that under no circumstances will I let him touch my undergarments?”
Rory bristled visibly at the mention of undergarments. Tina hadn’t said any of the no-no words, such as panties or bra, but the abstract idea alone was enough to bother Rory.
The girls took their seats at the round table overlooking the backyard and started eating cheesy nachos from the lopsided tray. Secretly, Tina actually liked how the nachos came out when baked at a ten-degree angle. One side was dry and crunchy, and the other side was extra gooey. You could go back and forth, varying the texture.
After a moment, Rory spoke what must have been on her mind. “Promise me you won’t move to Australia with him.”
“What? Australia?”
They both looked over at the big coffee table book Luca had dropped off at the flower shop on Friday. It was a collection of photos showing the diversity of Australia. He said it was the book he’d promised to give her over breakfast at Delilah’s, but Tina had a feeling he’d been stopping in to make sure she didn’t wriggle out of their date plans for the next day.
