The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

by Michelle Douglas

  He and Travis had just started taping up one of the bay windows when Neen came over. ‘Travis, would you mind helping me unload a couple of things from my car?’

  Travis immediately set down his roll of tape to follow her. As she walked past Rico, she winked. The warmth of it, the inherent mischief behind it, warmed the surface of his skin, reminding him of the sweet heat of her mouth and—

  He promptly taped his finger to the window. He cursed under his breath. Keep your mind on the job!

  And that was why he refused to notice how long Neen and Travis were gone. He’d finished taping up the windows. He and the boys had finished washing down the last of the walls. He glanced at his watch and tapped a foot. Before he could set off in search of her, however, Neen sauntered into the room from the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘C’mon, guys, down tools. It’s lunchtime.’

  With whoops, the boys followed her out. Rico tried to hold himself back. He picked up the rolls of tape and tossed them into his toolkit. He snatched up a couple of cloths and wrung them out—

  ‘Darn it!’ He tossed the cloths into buckets and strode out to the back courtyard to find Travis manning a barbecue filled with sausages and browning onions. Stacked on a small folding table beside it were bread rolls, tomato sauce and a big bowl of coleslaw. The scent of the frying onions hit him and his stomach rumbled. Those nearest him laughed.

  ‘C’mon, D’Angelo, show us what you’ve got.’

  She tossed a bright green foam bat at him. He caught it and stared at her, nonplussed. What did she expect him to do with this?

  She motioned for everyone to gather round. ‘Okay, these are the rules. The batsman gets ten pitches, and the object of the game is to see how many catches you can hit. Every person gets a bat. Every person gets a bowl.’ She held up a large foam ball. ‘The person who hits the most catches wins. If an easy catch is dropped it’ll be counted as a catch. Another way to win is to take the most catches. Everyone get that?’

  Everyone nodded. Rico found himself nodding too.

  ‘Oh, and if you hit a ball at the barbecue you’ll lose five points and forfeit your turn.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Okay, let’s go. Rico, you’re up.’

  Rico didn’t want to play. He worked more efficiently if he kept his distance from his clients. Neen grinned and her eyes twinkled. He bit back an oath. Why did she have to start her team-building exercise with him?

  He gritted his teeth and batted. And then he moved to the outskirts of the game. Everyone else joked and laughed and entered into the game with gusto. Rico couldn’t help thinking of the phone calls he could be making, the work he could be doing.

  He glanced at Neen and her laughter made him momentarily forget about his pressing work demands. It was good to see her laugh instead of glancing over her shoulder all the time and jumping at loud noises.

  He blinked as one of the boys threw down the bat and shaped up to another boy. ‘You didn’t catch that!’

  ‘Yes, I did!’

  Neen stepped between them. ‘Jonah, pick up the bat.’

  ‘It hit the ground first!’ He scowled, wavered and then picked up the bat.

  ‘You do know it’s to your advantage if he did catch it?’

  ‘Yeah, but I hate liars.’

  ‘In the café we work as a team.’ She glanced around. ‘We have to trust each other. Luke, did you catch the ball?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Silence for a moment, and then someone murmured, ‘I thought he caught it.’

  ‘I thought it was fifty-fifty,’ said someone else.

  Luke’s chin unhitched. ‘Really?’ He frowned. ‘I took my eye off it for a moment, but I thought I caught it fair and square.’

  ‘Your word is good enough for me,’ Neen said. She met each boy’s eye. ‘Just like everyone else’s word will be good enough for me unless proved otherwise.’ She halted for emphasis. ‘I’d like you all to treat each other with that same fairness and respect.’

  They’d all gone quiet. Rico studied their faces and let out a long, silent breath. Neen had sure as heck given them something to think about.

  ‘What if...what if we’re not so sure about something, after all?’ Luke mumbled.

  ‘There’s no shame in that.’ She shrugged. ‘I think before we swear black and blue that something is true, though, we need to be very certain of it.’

  Luke shifted his weight. ‘I thought I caught the ball, but if those who saw want to take a vote...’

  ‘Nah, we’ll let it stand,’ said Jonah.

  The game started up again. Not as rowdy, but with the same intensity. When the last ball had been thrown and the boys were in the throes of working out the winners—until it became just as obvious that no one cared—Neen hollered that the food was ready.

  The boys immediately shot towards the table and started loading plates with sausage sandwiches and coleslaw. Neen even had a cooler of soft drinks on hand.

  Rico didn’t approach until the last boy had found a seat and Neen was in the process of spooning food onto her own plate.

  She glanced at him and smiled. The exercise had brightened her eyes and brought out the colour in her cheeks—she looked all rosy, chestnut and utterly lovely. His skin tightened and his groin let out a long, silent whimper.

  ‘I thought we were going to do pizza?’ Her smile faded and he winced at how churlish he’d sounded.

  ‘I thought this would be more fun.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘But?’

  ‘But nothing.’ He seized a plate. ‘It was a nice idea. End of story. Except you’ll have to let me know how much this cost you. I don’t want you out of pocket.’

  She stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for something more. When he remained silent, she shrugged and moved to sit on the back step.

  Rico made himself a sausage sandwich, spooned coleslaw onto his plate, grabbed a can of soda and then glanced around the courtyard. The only spare spot was on the step beside Neen. He hesitated. He could always eat in the dining area they’d just cleaned. Alone. He could make some calls... It would be the sensible course of action.

  Some sixth sense warned him that Neen wouldn’t let him get away with it, though.

  He stiffened. Darn it! He was the boss here.

  With a sigh, he plonked himself down on the step beside her.

  They ate in silence for a while, but it started to grate on him. ‘You’re developing a nice rapport with the boys.’

  She nodded. ‘I am. You’re not, though.’

  What the heck...? He choked on his sausage sandwich. Fried onion burned a path of fire through his sinuses. Neen thumped him on the back until he stopped coughing and then tranquilly returned to her food. He glared at her. ‘That’s not important!’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  He lowered his voice. ‘You, in effect, are their boss. You’re the one who needs to be able to work with them and get the best out of them. I’m just—’

  ‘The person who’s giving them the opportunity of a lifetime?’

  He couldn’t speak. He set his food down, his throat too dry to swallow anything.

  ‘Why do you do this job, Rico, if you won’t even allow yourself to enjoy a tiny part of it?’

  ‘Life isn’t all beer and skittles,’ he bit out.

  Neen finished the last of her coleslaw and then dabbed at her fingers and mouth with a paper napkin. ‘It isn’t all doom and gloom either. I don’t know anything about your background—’

  Which was exactly how he meant it to stay.

  ‘But I suspect these boys have more reason to whinge and whine about things than you do. Yet they still find the time to have a hit and a laugh.’

  Her silly bat-and-ball game had been more for his be
nefit than anyone else’s? His hand fisted. ‘I’m not a charity case, Neen.’

  ‘And neither are these boys.’

  That left him speechless.

  ‘They’re individuals. Just like you and me. They have hopes and dreams. You can pigeonhole them all you want, but it won’t change that fact. Yes, they’ve had a tough start to life. But they’re not the ones in danger of losing their basic humanity. You are.’

  She rose, then, and started gathering up the debris and urging the boys back for seconds and thirds. He watched her and wanted to weep. He could’ve told her he wasn’t in danger of losing his humanity. He’d lost it ten years ago.

  * * *

  Rico’s distance, his aloofness, his...isolation made Neen want to weep.

  He was doing so much for these kids, and they were good kids. They were rough around the edges, sure, but like little children—and big dogs—they flowered under the influence of a bit of attention and quiet praise. And, as she’d discovered, with strict boundaries.

  It didn’t come naturally to them, but they were doing their best to curb their bad language. They actually seemed to like being bossed around by her. It made her want to hug the lot of them. And since Rico’s outburst they’d stopped their playful jostling too.

  She placed her paint roller in its tray, pushed her hands into the small of her back and stretched, taking the opportunity to glance across at Rico. He was really investing in these boys, and yet he wouldn’t let himself enjoy a single moment of the time he spent in their company.

  He glanced up, as if aware of her regard, and she stood trapped by his gaze. The memory of their stolen kiss spilled through her. She swallowed hard. She had to forget that kiss. But warmth flooded her and a taboo curiosity raked its fingers down her spine, making her shiver, and she couldn’t look away.

  He straightened. He rested his paintbrush on the tin of paint. And then he moved across to her with a slow, easy stride and her mouth dried and her heart pounded.

  ‘How’re you doing?’

  She wanted him. In the most primal and elemental way.

  She backed up a step, her mouth drying. She avoided buttoned-up executives. They didn’t do anything for her. Besides, anything of that nature was strictly off limits.

  Rico gestured around. ‘I know this isn’t exactly what you thought you were signing up for.’

  He hadn’t noticed her reaction to him. Thank you! She unclenched her jaw and swallowed. ‘I’m fine. It’s been kind of fun.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  She couldn’t help taking a swipe at him. ‘I mean, I know fun isn’t part of the job description, but—’

  ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Neen.’

  Which made her feel like a heel. ‘Do you mind if we have another sausage sizzle tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course not. I think it’ll be well received.’

  She refused to let a silence grow between them. ‘Once we get the kitchen in order we can make pizzas.’

  ‘Sounds great.’

  He stared at her for a long moment and her heart thumped. She needed a cold shower—icy cold—and distance.

  She reached behind her, seized the photograph from her back pocket and thrust it at him. ‘Here’s the photo you asked for.’

  As if she’d snapped her fingers, his cool, professional detachment settled over him again like armour.

  ‘Right.’ His lip curled as he stared at it. ‘Do you have half an hour or so to spare after work today? I want to introduce you to your self-defence trainer.’

  ‘Sure. Thank you.’

  Without another word they turned away from each other and reached for their respective painting implements. In an attempt to drown out the thundering in her ears, Neen started to sing a heavy metal song she suspected all the boys knew.

  One by one, the boys joined in.

  Rico didn’t.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NEEN VIEWED THE room with as critical an eye as she could muster. Which wasn’t all that critical. It was impossible to be objective after all the hard work she, Rico and the boys had put in over the last week.

  Décor-wise, they’d settled on a plain colonial style. It wasn’t her dream décor, just as this wasn’t her dream café, but...

  The white walls, the scarred wooden tables and polished timber floor, along with the prints of old maps and photographs of Hobart’s convict past, would be a hit with the tourists.

  Just for a moment she let her mind drift to a light and airy Balinese-themed café with lots of wicker and tropical plants and—

  A knock on the front door had her spinning around, heart in her throat.

  Idiot. It would only be Travis waiting to be let in.

  Instead, she found Rico. Her chest tightened and her pulse skittered. She stared at him for three frozen beats before she had the wit to jump forward and open the door.

  ‘Hi.’ Her voice came out breathless. And it took all her strength not to curl her nose in disgust at herself. Boy, she was pitiful!

  His gaze narrowed. ‘Did I frighten you?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  He glanced behind her at the room. ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Excited,’ she countered.

  His jaw dropped and he shot straight across the room to the display counter. ‘This looks fantastic!’

  He reached out, eyes wide, as if he meant to touch the glass, but Neen swatted his hand away. ‘I just cleaned that.’

  His brows beetled. ‘Where did you find the time to bake all this?’

  His hand was oven warm, and her fingers tingled with it. He smelled like fresh bread, which made her mouth water. She shook herself. ‘I didn’t. We’re using a freelance caterer for most of these goodies. You’re not paying me enough to cover the hours it’d take me to make those.’

  He nodded, but when he turned back to the display case he pointed. ‘That’s your apple sour cake.’

  Last week, while they’d all been working to get the café shipshape, she’d brought in a homemade cheesecake, an apple sour cake and a pecan pie as afternoon tea treats for the boys. And for Rico. They’d all been very well received. She’d taken the opportunity to show the boys how to cut and serve the desserts too.

  She lifted one shoulder. ‘I couldn’t resist making a couple of bits and pieces.’ Making these kinds of treats was one of the main reasons she wanted to open her own café. She tried not to breathe him in too deeply. ‘Once the boys are a little more experienced, and we work out what our bestsellers are, Travis and I can work towards whipping up the odd cake and tart as needed during the slow periods.’

  ‘I’m hoping there won’t be any slow periods.’

  ‘Then you’ll be doomed to disappointment.’ Which, as far as she could tell, was the story of his life. ‘Besides, we need slow periods to fill sugar pots, clean tables, restock fridges and all manner of things. The boys don’t need to be flat out all at once to start with.’

  She’d shown them how to make cappuccinos, lattes and espressos. She’d taken them through how to take an order. They’d role-played to within an inch of their lives. But real life could be very different from training, and she knew there’d be nerves to begin with.

  ‘How long before we can go to seven-day trading?’

  That pulled her back from staring at the way his dark hair fell forward on his masculine forehead.

  ‘Do you always have to have your eye on dollar signs and the bottom line?’ She moved behind the counter to fold a teatowel and tidy the laminated menus in their holder. ‘Can’t you simply relish the fact that this is opening day? Just for a moment at least?’

  ‘I need this place to become self-sustaining as quickly as possible.’

  Why? So he could dust his hands off and move on to his next good-works proje
ct? ‘You do know that’s going to be a constant negotiation, don’t you?’

  The current plan was for Travis to work full-time in the kitchen as a cook, with the other boys working a rotating part-time roster. The emphasis would be on training them as waiters and kitchen hands. It was all the budget could cover at the moment.

  ‘If the purpose of the café is to train up staff and to provide a venue for potential employers to come see them in action, then...’ She trailed off with what she thought was a self-explanatory shrug.

  He glared. ‘Then what?’

  ‘If our staff are constantly being poached—’

  ‘Gainfully employed by reputable employers.’

  ‘Then we’ll constantly be in training mode. None of the boys will be here long enough to train up as a part-time manager. So until you’re prepared to find the money to hire a part-time café manager, we’ll only be trading five days. And, look, Mondays and Tuesdays are traditionally quiet anyway.’

  He swung away, and that was when she saw what was behind his sniping. Nerves.

  He turned back with a scowl. ‘I don’t want the boys goofing off this week.’ He stabbed a finger to the counter. ‘You need to make sure they pull their weight. If you let them walk all over you—’

  ‘I’m on it, Rico. I have it covered.’

  She moved past him to let in Travis, who’d appeared at the door. She grinned at him. The teenager shuffled and sort of smiled back.

  ‘Ready?’ She turned to include Rico in the moment, and then with exaggerated care she turned over the sign on the door to ‘Open’.

  Rico glared at the door as if he could make customers appear by sheer force of will. He started to pace from one side of the room to the other. Neen patted Travis’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go stow your things in your locker?’

  When he’d left she turned to Rico. ‘I understand this project is important to you—’

  ‘No, you don’t!’

  ‘But the expression on your face right now is going to scare away the customers. Go and do whatever it is you do at the office.’ She knew he had more than this one project on the boil, even if it had taken precedence these last few weeks. She started to shoo him towards the door. ‘If you stay here you’re going to make us all jittery and jumpy.’ She didn’t need to be jittery and jumpy. And she sure as heck didn’t need a man who smelled of fresh-baked bread playing havoc with her senses.