Chapter 9 #2
I looked back to Matteo to ask what they were talking about, but I forgot my question when I realized he was shirtless.
It seemed impossible to have missed all that glistening, muscular flesh a few seconds ago.
The man was seriously stacked—chiseled pecs, each muscle in his abdomen sharply defined and taut, a narrow waist, plus a deep-cut V that made smart women do very stupid things.
I tried not to ogle him, but unfortunately, my eyes didn’t get the memo, and by the time I managed to drag my gaze away, the young worker was gone.
I blinked, finding him a full football field away. I stared that long?
The corner of Matteo’s lip twitched like he was fighting off a smirk, but he didn’t say anything. He let the moment hang there, almost daring me to keep looking.
I forced my eyes to stay on his face, which wasn’t a bad consolation prize. “I hope the tub wasn’t too much trouble to carry in.”
He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Just needed a few extra sets of hands.”
The change in his stance showcased how thick his arms were. Damn, his body really is crazy. I shook the thought from my head. “Speaking of extra hands…” I thumbed over my shoulder toward Tomasso. “What did you say to that guy?”
“Nothing important.”
I squinted but managed not to go into interrogation mode like I normally would when someone withheld information, an occupational hazard. Matteo was, after all, helping me.
He used the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his brow, and I didn’t miss the way the movement caused his abs to flex and tighten.
“Your meeting was good, yes?” he asked.
“It was. I got another letter from my grandmother, and apparently, I’m going to receive some more.” I smiled. “She writes exactly the way she spoke, so it’s almost as if I’m hearing her talk to me again.”
Matteo smiled. “That’s nice.”
“And it seems there’s a purple Vespa under a tarp in the garage. She told me to ask you to teach me how to ride it.”
“First conquer driving a car, yes?”
“What are you talking about? I drove two hours today, and I only stalled once. And maybe I got stuck in one of those dumb roundabouts for a half dozen extra spins.”
He shook his head. “You will kill yourself on a scooter.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But it’s purple, and I’m going to look fabulous on it. So it’s worth the risk.”
Matteo tried not to smile, but I saw the gleam in his eyes. “I should be able to finish up the bathroom today, but da caulk will need twenty-four hours to fully cure, so you cannot shower until tomorrow.”
“All right, great. Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I was about to run next door and get a pipe cutter when you pulled up.”
“Okay. I’ll make us a fresh batch of iced tea. You look…” My eyes swept over him again. “Hot.”
“Sounds good.”
I got to the front door and remembered something from my grandmother’s letter. “Hey, Matteo?”
He turned back.
“Any chance you know a woman named Carlina?”
“Si. And if she comes around, Sophia never had a blue-eyed cat living in her bedroom.”
I walked into the house laughing. My grandmother was definitely good at her game.
A few hours later, Matteo was still upstairs working when there was a knock at the door.
When I answered, Tomasso smiled and held up his hand with his fingers pinched together, Italian style. “Ciao, sei sempre più bella ogni volta che ti vedo.”
I opened the screen door. “I’m not sure what that means, but it sounded really nice when you said it.”
He flashed a dimpled smile. “It means you get more beautiful every time I see you.”
Boy, this kid laid it on thick. Yet he owned it, so somehow it worked for him. “That’s very sweet. Does that line work on girls your own age?”
He took my hand. “Age is only a number.”
“And what number might you be? Eighteen?”
He held up a finger. “Nineteen.”
Oof. That hurt. “Are you looking for your boss?”
“I’m looking for my soulmate. And I t’ink I find her.”
I chuckled. “Corny but adorable. What can I do for you, Tomasso?”
“Accompany me to dinner, for starters?”
I took my hands back. “I’m taking a break from dating.”
He covered over his heart. “I’m devastated.”
“You’ll bounce back. Young people are resilient.”
“I not give up easily.” He winked. “Is da boss upstairs?”
“He is.”
“May I?”
I stepped aside. “Of course.”
Tomasso went up to the second floor and came down a few minutes later. “Until next time, bella.”
“Have a good evening, Tomasso.”
After he left, I went to check on how things were going up in the bathroom and brought Matteo another glass of tea. Sadly, his shirt was now on.
“Are you hungry?” I extended the drink to him. “You’ve been working up here all day.”
“I could eat.”
“I’m a little rusty with my cooking, but I picked up some groceries on my way home from the lawyer to make my grandmother’s risotto alla Milanese. I’ve been craving it since I walked in. She always made it the night I arrived, so apparently, I’m trained like Pavlov’s dog now.”
“Do you know her recipe?”
I grinned. “I do.”
He shook his head. “I asked her for it once, and she told me to eat dirt.”
“If my new shower has water pressure as good as you have next door, I might accidentally leave the recipe card out.”
Matteo guzzled the full glass of tea without stopping for a breath, then handed me back the empty.
I chuckled. “You could’ve taken your time with it.”
“Did my worker bother you?”
I leaned against the doorjamb, watching Matteo fill in the area around the shower body with silicone. “No, he was actually very sweet. He even asked me out to dinner.”
Matteo froze for a few seconds before going back to caulking and said nothing more. He didn’t even ask if I’d said yes or no. After another minute of silence, he cleared his throat. “I should be done in half of an hour.”
Okay, then. It felt a bit like a dismissal, which I’d normally have a problem with, but the man was doing me a favor, so I did the unthinkable—kept my mouth shut and went to cook.
Matteo came downstairs carrying a bucket of tools just as I lowered the heat on the risotto. I looked at the clock on the wall. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’m going to drop my tools off next door and take a quick shower.”
“Okay. I can slow the simmer, if you want?”
“No need. I’ll be back.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, he knocked while I was stirring. “Come in.”
Matteo’s hair was slicked back wet, and damn if he didn’t smell better than the risotto. He lifted a bottle of wine. “This was your grandmother’s favorite. I figured we should pair it with her recipe.”
“That’s perfect.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
He opened the bottle while I plated two dishes. It had been a long time since I’d worked in the kitchen with a man. It felt oddly domestic but also…nice. We sat down at the table, and Matteo held out his wine glass.
“To Sophia.”
I clinked. “To Nonna.”
Matteo shoveled a heaping forkful of risotto into his mouth while I waited.
“Well? How did I do?”
“Delizioso. Culinary skills must run in da family.”
“I actually enjoyed making it. It’s been forever since I cooked a meal.”
“You mean for someone else?”
I shook my head. “I mean at all.”
Matteo’s forehead creased. “What do you eat if you don’t cook?”
“I’m usually at the office for dinner, so I order in and eat at my desk. On the weekends, I either go out or heat up something I brought home as leftovers.”
“Cooking isn’t just healthy for the body. It is good for the mind. It forces you to slow down. Chop. Stir. Have patience.”
“Which is why I haven’t done it. Slow wasn’t penciled in on my very full agenda for each day.”
“You said you quit your job because you didn’t get made partner, yes? What was so important about becoming one? Was it the money?”
Sadly, I didn’t have a clear answer as to why I’d been doing something that had taken over my entire life for six years.
“The money would be better, yes, but it wasn’t really about that.
My bonus was tied to my billable hours, which were always super high, so I had more money than I did time to spend it. ”
“What drove you, then?”
“I’m not really sure. I guess I wanted to reach the top level. I was never very good at being mediocre at things. I stopped playing video games as a kid because once I started, I became obsessed with conquering it—getting to the last level or whatever winning meant.”
“So you desire to win?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“To an extent, yes.”
“I’m sure you want to put out the best wine possible, right?”
“Of course. But there are limits. I wouldn’t forgo eating homecooked food or taking time out for other things we need in life.”
My eyes washed over the handsome face of the man across from me, and I tilted my head. “What other things do you need in life, Matteo?”
“Health. Joy. Family. Friends.”
I frowned. At the ripe old age of thirty-one, I had only two living relatives left—an aunt on my mother’s side, and a great-aunt on my father’s side, who didn’t even speak English. Matteo must’ve noticed my face.
“I’m sorry. That was insensitive. You just lost your grandmother.”
I forced a smile. “It’s fine. It only stings because you’re right. I haven’t prioritized the important things in my life. My mom has a sister who took me in for a year after my parents passed away, and I’m not even great about keeping in touch with her anymore.” I sipped my wine.
“Your parents died in an accident when you were young, yes?”
I nodded. “I was seventeen. Bad weather. My mom had a doctor’s appointment and didn’t want to drive in the snow, though it was only flurrying when they left. By the time they were on the way home, it was coming down hard. They skidded when they tried to stop and…” I shook my head. “That was that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “But damn, maybe this is why I worked so much. Making new friends can be depressing.”
The corner of Matteo’s mouth tugged a little. “Perhaps we should lighten things up?”
“Good idea. How about we talk about that Romeo you have working for you? He’s pretty amusing.”