Chapter 4 #2
It was apparent he had gone out of his way to make tonight special.
Was there an underlying reason? And what if there was?
Marti was intelligent enough to know Dante’s efforts could actually work in his favor.
She had slept with men before on the first date, where all she had gotten out of it was a meal at a restaurant that hadn’t tasted half as delicious as the one she had been fed tonight.
But then, the idea of building heat between them was tempting.
Granted, it would prolong the inevitable, but by the time they finally shared a bed, they would be consumed with so much lust, they’d likely burn up the sheets.
It was something she’d never experienced before.
And one thing she would love to get from this temporary escape from reality would be the chance to fully enjoy herself.
Especially since she had no idea what she would encounter when she got back to Billings.
As much as she’d love to think that the nightmare she’d run from would be over, she had a feeling it was still there, waiting for her to return.
Before she could dwell further on how this month with Dante might end, he returned with a serving cart carrying plates of slices of pie and cups of coffee.
The aroma of the coffee smelled good, though it was unfamiliar to her.
When he placed the cup down in front of her, she quickly took a sip and then looked at him in surprise.
“I’m a coffee girl and can’t function worth a damn until I’ve had my first cup in the morning.
I’ve probably tried them all in my lifetime, but I have to say this is different…
and very good.” She took another sip, then smiled.
“Actually, this is better than good, Dante. It’s delicious.
The best I’ve ever tasted. What brand of coffee is it? ”
“Avera.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “Did you say Avera?”
“Yes, Avera Coffee, whose beans are grown and produced in Italy.”
“Your family owns a coffee company?”
“Yes, in Sicily. It’s operated by my five uncles and their offspring. Avera Coffee is sold throughout most of Italy and various other countries. They haven’t broken into the United States market yet.”
He rejoined her at the table. “Americans prefer the taste of coffee imported from Colombia and Brazil. The Avera Coffee Company is doing well while managing the vast markets it now serves. It keeps them pretty busy.”
“I can imagine,” she replied, taking another sip.
“Whenever I’m in Sicily, everyone pitches in,” he said. “All the Averas own shares in the company and want it to be successful.”
“I think your family is overlooking the possibilities of expanding here. I am a devout coffee drinker, and after tasting this, it wouldn’t be hard for me to make the switch. I believe most American coffee consumers would feel the same way.”
Dante nodded. “I’ll bring up the idea at our next board meeting.” He took a bite of his pie and said, “This is delicious.”
“It is.”
After a few more bites, he sat back and looked at her. “Tell me about yourself, Marti.”
She glanced over at him. “What do you want to know that we didn’t cover on the beach earlier today?”
“Is there a hobby that you enjoy?”
She could say reading. Her choice had been thriller novels until her life became a thriller of its own. Still, she had to say something and selected a sport that she enjoyed. “Pickleball.”
“I play, too, although I grew up with soccer. I got awarded a soccer scholarship from Berkeley and turned it down. I wanted to go to Harvard, which doesn’t offer athletic scholarships.”
“Any particular reason you wanted to attend Harvard?”
“Generations of Averas graduated from there. I felt it would be an honor to carry on the tradition.”
She nodded. “On the beach today, you wore a San Francisco 49ers shirt. I take it you’re a fan.”
“Can’t help it. I was born in San Francisco.”
Marti blinked. She hadn’t known that. “You were?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were born in Italy. I remember Nana once saying that both you and your father were full-blooded Italians.”
“We are, since both my parents and my grandparents, and all my ancestors before them, are one-hundred percent Italian. However, since my father and I were born in the United States, we are also Italian Americans. I have a lot of family in Sicily on both of my parents’ sides,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
He held her gaze and smiled. “I’m curious about something, Marti.”
“What?”
“How did you and your sister come to have gray eyes?”
She chuckled. “That’s an easy answer. It’s a very strong trait on my father’s side of the family. His grandmother, who had silver gray eyes, was originally from Finland. His grandfather was from Jamaica.”
“How did they meet?”
“According to Dad, his grandfather was a Jamaican sailor onboard a British vessel back in the 1920’s.
His grandmother was traveling abroad as a domestic worker.
They met and fell in love. All her kids and grandkids…
including my dad, inherited her gray eyes.
So far, the trait continues. Kara and I have them, and so do Kara’s two daughters.
Chances are her son will be born with gray eyes as well. ”
She took another sip of her coffee. “By the way, I was born in San Francisco, too, and also a 49ers fan.”
“Just something else we have in common,” he pointed out.
“I’ve discovered we like or dislike some of the same things.
Neither of us is interested in a committed relationship.
We both like our steaks cooked medium rare and drink our coffee black with sugar--the espresso way, which originated in Italy, I might add.
We enjoy pickleball, and we were born in San Francisco and are 49ers fans. ”
She smiled, finding it amusing that he evidently had been compiling a list. “You find that interesting, Dante? All the things we have in common?”
He returned her smile. “Very much. Now I have another question for you.”
“What is it?” she asked, picking up her fork to resume eating the last of her pie.
“Do you have any regrets, Marti?”
Wow, he was definitely getting to the real nitty-gritty, Marti thought. Of all the questions he’d asked, that one hit home. Mainly because she didn’t have to think about her response.
“Yes. Two, actually,” she said, going for complete honesty. “The first is falling in love with a man I thought I could trust. I told you about that on the beach.”
He nodded, and when her pause was longer than normal, he asked, “And the second?”
She drew in a deep breath and then confessed something several people living in Charlotte now knew. “I intentionally lied to my sister about the guy she had fallen in love with. I wanted to break them up.”