Page 92 of Driftwood Daffodil 3

Ugh, bitch.

“Nova,” Gio nudged me with his elbow.

“What,” I snapped.

Asshole. Thinking he can go around branding other girls. Why did that bother me?

His brow lifted in an arch. “My father asked you a question.”

He did? How long was I glaring at Mrs. Robinson?

Because I wasn’t rude, I wiped the sneer off my face and gave Gio’s dad a smile. “Sorry, I was lost in my own thoughts.”

My murderous, wanting to shove someone’s face in their plate of pasta thoughts.

“Typical woman, is she not, Cesare.” Gio’s uncle chuckled.

Typical? Did he think women walked around daydreaming all the time? I kind of did, but that was beside the point.

“Yes,” Cesare nodded, then asked me, “I was wondering what your plans were after graduation?”

“Plans?”

“Yes. Where will you be going to college?”

That was funny. “I’m not going to college.”

His brows pulled together as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a waitress at a Texan diner run by a man who’s never been to Texas.”

He stared at me for a second before saying, “I don’t know what that means.”

“Have you ever been in the mood for a bowl of pulled pork gumbo?”

Gio’s dad wasn’t the only one to grimace.

“That’s what that means.” I said. “I’ll never make enough in tips to afford college.”

“Why would you need to afford it? You’re Giovanni’s future bride. Your education is paid for.”

Hold up. I didn’t ask him to do that. Nor did I want him to do that. “I can’t accept that.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

There was no point in arguing. If there was one thing I knew about Cesare Mancini, it was that he was going to do what he wanted to do, which in this case was give me a better education. There goes my dreams of broken lawn furniture and celebrations with boxes of wine. Why did all the Mancini’s have to be demanding assholes? Crap, Maw Maw was going to love them, wasn’t she?

“You excel at chemistry, perhaps you should pursue something in that field?”

How the hell did he know what I excelled at?

“Be careful with that one,” Gio’s uncle wagged his finger at his nephew. “Smart women can be a handful.”

“Trust me, I know.” Gio grumbled while giving me a side eye.

I don’t know what he was complaining about. I’d been on pretty good behaviour considering.

“Intelligence can be a good thing.” Cesare said. “If it’s directed in the right way.”

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