Chapter 2 No Flirting During Prep
Sophia had a plan. It was a good, normal plan, the kind any reasonable person could follow if she hadn’t almost kissed a kitchen guy in a walk-in cooler two nights ago.
The plan was simple. Do her job. Don’t blush.
Don’t look through the pass every time Vinny laughed.
Don’t enter the walk-in cooler if Vinny Marino was within twenty feet of dairy products.
So far, she had failed at two of those things and had only avoided the third because Gia went into the walk-in for her with an expression of deep personal sacrifice.
“I’m not saying you owe me,” Gia said, coming out with a container of lemon cream. “I’m just saying if I catch pneumonia from that cooler, I want flowers.”
Sophia took the container from her. “You were in there for six seconds.”
“Six whole seconds.”
“You also work here.”
“That doesn’t make me immune to cooler trauma.”
Victoria, who was folding napkins at the service station, didn’t look up. “No one has cooler trauma except Sophia.”
Sophia’s face warmed immediately.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was very helpful.”
“I’m a helper.”
“You are absolutely not.”
“I help by being honest.”
Gia set one hand on her hip. “I opened the door. That counts.”
Sophia shut her eyes. Not helpful. No one in Bella Luna had said the words almost kiss out loud since that night. Somehow, that made it worse. Everyone had invented other names for it: cooler incident, dairy scandal, inventory problem.
Whatever Gia had whispered to Nico the night before that made him look at Vinny and say, “Rough week, man,” with more sympathy than Sophia wanted.
Sophia wanted the floor to open up. The floor didn’t care.
“Table three needs bread,” Victoria said, sliding a basket toward her.
Sophia grabbed it. “Thank you.”
“And try not to look guilty while carrying it.”
“I’m carrying bread.”
“You looked guilty holding a water pitcher ten minutes ago.”
“I didn’t.”
“You apologized to it.”
Sophia stopped. “I said excuse me because I bumped the counter.”
Victoria finally looked up. “That doesn’t make it better.”
Gia grinned. “It kind of makes it worse.”
Sophia walked away before either of them could continue.
The dining room was only half full because it was early, but Bella Luna never felt empty anymore.
Even on slower nights, there was movement.
A couple near the window sharing calamari.
Two older women at table four arguing sweetly over who had ordered the chicken piccata last time.
A family with a little boy who kept trying to stack sugar packets until his mother gave up and let him build whatever tiny, sticky tower he needed.
Sophia liked that part. The ordinary part.
The part where she could carry bread, refill water, smile, and feel useful without everyone watching to see if she blushed.
Then the kitchen door swung open. Vinny stepped halfway through with a tray of clean plates in his hands.
Sophia looked. She looked away too late.
He saw. Vinny Marino noticed everything he wasn’t supposed to notice.
He paused in the doorway. His black kitchen shirt was already dusted with flour near one shoulder, and his hair looked freshly damp from the heat. He gave her a slight smile. It wasn’t the big grin, but the smaller one that had become a problem.
“Hey, teach.”
Sophia almost dropped the bread. She didn’t. Small victories mattered.
“Hi.”
That was all she managed. One syllable. Excellent work for a future educator. Vinny’s smile tugged a little wider, but he didn’t tease her. That made the one syllable feel more obvious.
“Bread going to three?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“They asked for extra butter.”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t questioning your bread skills.”
Sophia looked at him. “My bread skills are fine.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Victoria appeared beside Sophia so fast it felt planned. “She can handle bread. Go plate something.”
Vinny’s gaze moved from Sophia to Victoria. “Evening to you too.”
Victoria smiled with no warmth. “It was.”
Gia laughed from the service station.
Vinny held up one hand. “I’m leaving. Peacefully.”
“Great,” Victoria said.
He looked at Sophia again, softer. “See you at the pass.”
Sophia nodded. Victoria waited until he disappeared into the kitchen.
Then she turned to Sophia. “No.”
Sophia sighed. “You already used that word.”
“I’m going to keep using it until it works.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“It will if I’m consistent.”
Sophia started toward table three. “I am working.”
“Yes. Work away from him.”
Sophia stayed quiet because she couldn’t think of an answer that wouldn’t make Victoria more right.
That was the trouble with Victoria. She was dramatic, protective, and often correct.
Sophia delivered the bread. She made it through the next twenty minutes by staying in motion.
She stayed in motion with table checks, water refills, menus, plates, dessert orders, and as much kitchen avoidance as possible.
The avoiding part lasted until Antonia called from the pass, “Sophia, table eight is up.”
Sophia froze near the service station.
Gia looked over. “You heard the woman.”
“I heard her.”
“Then move.”
“I am moving.”
“You are standing.”
“I am preparing to move.”
Victoria leaned closer. “Do you want me to get it?”
“No.”
The answer came out sharper than Sophia meant. Victoria blinked.
Sophia softened her voice. “No, thank you. I can get it.”
Victoria studied her for a second, then nodded. “All right.”
That was why Sophia loved her. Victoria pushed too hard sometimes, but she did back off when Sophia found her voice.
Usually. Sophia walked to the kitchen. The pass was bright and busy.
Antonia stood near the line checking plates.
Vinny was by the stove, spooning sauce over pasta.
Gia was at the far counter arguing with a stack of takeout lids.
Vinny glanced up as Sophia approached. Don’t blush.
Sophia blushed. Vinny’s mouth twitched like he noticed and was trying very hard not to enjoy it. Trying. Not succeeding.
“Table eight,” Antonia said, sliding two plates forward. “Careful. Hot rim.”
Sophia reached for the plates. Vinny moved at the same time with a towel. They both stopped, again. Antonia looked between them. Gia looked delighted. Sophia wished someone would turn off all the lights.
Vinny cleared his throat and backed up. “Sorry.”
Sophia took the plates.
“Thank you,” she said to Antonia, because thanking the boss was safer than looking at Vinny.
Vinny said, “Careful, Soph.”
The kitchen went quiet for half a second.
Not fully quiet. The restaurant was never fully quiet.
But enough. Sophia’s hands tightened around the plates.
Soph. He had said it, again. Not in the cooler or in the weird after-moment.
In the kitchen. With people around. Her stomach flipped.
Antonia’s eyes moved to Vinny. Gia’s eyebrows climbed.
Victoria, from the service station, turned her head like she had heard it through a wall.
Vinny realized what he had done. Sophia saw it happen.
The quick shift in his face. The small wince. The way he wanted to joke and didn’t.
“Sorry,” he said, quieter. “Sophia.”
That should have fixed it. It didn’t. Because for one second, Sophia had liked it.
The nickname had felt different from everyone else’s careful tone.
Not small, not cute, and not fragile. Just close.
She nodded once and carried the plates into the dining room before her face told everyone everything.
Behind her, Gia said, “Oh, that was interesting.”
Vinny groaned. “Please don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You said it with your eyebrows.”
“My eyebrows are gifted.”
Antonia turned back to the stove. “Vinny, sauce.”
“Yes, chef.”
“Gia, lids.”
“Already fighting them.”
“And no one says anything else about names during service.”
Gia zipped her fingers across her lips. Vinny doubted that would last ten minutes.
He made it six. To be fair, he was trying.
He was trying so hard that he had become terrible at everything else.
Not the cooking. The cooking was fine. The chicken came off right.
The sauce tasted right. He didn’t burn anything important.
But he moved too fast when Sophia came near the pass and too slow when she left.
He kept checking the dining room window like she might vanish if he didn’t keep track of her.
Which was stupid. Sophia was working. In the same building.
Wearing the same white blouse and black skirt and apron she always wore.
Hair clipped back on one side, loose curls over the other shoulder, small silver studs in her ears.
Not vanishing. Just ignoring him, mostly.
Sometimes. Not really. She looked at him when she thought he was busy.
He knew because he looked back when she thought she was safe. This was going to kill him.
“Vinny,” Antonia said.
He turned too fast. “Yes?”
She held up a plate. The one he had just finished. The one missing the basil. He stared at it. Then at the little pile of basil sitting exactly where he had left it.
“Right.”
Gia made a soft choking sound from the counter. Vinny grabbed the basil and finished the plate. Antonia said nothing. That was worse. Antonia saying nothing meant she had noticed everything.
He slid the plate to the pass. “Table five.”
Sophia came for the plate, and their hands didn’t touch. Progress.
She looked at the plate. “Basil emergency handled?”
His lips twitched. “Handled before disaster.”
“Good.”
The word came out soft, almost shy. He should have let that be enough. He should have nodded, turned around, and proven to Antonia he could be a normal employee for one full minute. Instead, his mouth opened.
“See? I’m very responsible, Soph.”