Page 8 of Bittersweet

4

Romy

Is there anything worsethan that slump that comes late in the afternoon when you still have a ton of work todo?

I’m lagging. My back hurts from sitting at my desk so long, and there’s an ever-present ache in my eyeballs from staring at my laptop for hours onend.

I stretch and walk a small circle around my office space, and then sit back down. Only . . . the aroma from downstairs wafting through my window is amazing, and my stomach growls an angry protest because it’s almost dinnertime and I’ve been so caught up in wedding pictures that I forgot to eat lunch. I need coffee. A quick glance at the time on my laptop tells me it’s 5:15 p.m.Crap. I only have fifteen minutes to get down there and have my hot barista fuel my obsession.Forcoffee.

I run into my room and change out of my sweats. Then I fix my ponytail, run a brush through the ends, and apply a slick of gloss for just a hint of color. I smack my lips together, tasting the sweet gloss, and nod at myreflection.

Wait. Pants. I need pants. While I’d love nothing more than to be semi-naked in a room with Elio, I’m not sure walking into his café sans pants is the way to go about it. That might be coming on just a little bit strong. Not to mention, he’d likely run screaming in the other direction after one glance at my thunderthighs.

I rifle through my closet, flinging skirts and jeans aside until I settle on a pair of harem pants and a long thick grandpa cardigan. I catch myself in the mirror as I’m grabbing my keys.I’m never going to get underneath my coffee hottie because no man will want to have sex with me after seeing thisoutfit.

With a sigh, I head back to my bedroom and pull out a pair of slimming jeans and a cute Modcloth top with a Peter Pan collar and little stegosauruses all over it. I pair it with a mint-green cardigan, and my favorite pair of mint patent leatherTieks.

Confident I no longer look like a cave troll, I grab my keys and wallet and rush downstairs. Elio is just turning the sign in the window when I virtually slam my body against it because I was running full-tilt down the stairs, and I can’t slow my velocity. He gives a startled laugh, and I flame brightred.

Elio abandons his Closed sign and opens the door. “Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry aboutthat.”

“Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?” His eyes burn with mischief. Desire arcs through me, because really, it should be illegal for anyone to look that delicious in jeans and a T-shirt with a dish towel slung over hisshoulder.

“Ha! Yeah.” I shake my head. “I mean no. I mean, coffee. I’m lagging. Please, I’m really sorry. I know you’re closed and you wanna get home, and why wouldn’t you? It’s not like you want to stay at the shop all day when there’s wine to drink and cheese to nibble and classic books toread.”

He frowns. “That’s your impression of me? That I nibble cheese while reading classicliterature?”

“And the wine,” my mouth suppliesunhelpfully.

He chuckles. “You may need a crash course in what men do after work. Here’s a hint: it’s not nibbling anything. Unless, of course, it comes toearlobes.”

Oh, wow. Okay. I would definitely prefer that to an expensivegouda.

He grins. “Come on. I’ll do you better than just acoffee.”

“Excuse me?” Isqueak.

Now he laughs outright. “Relax, Romy. My nonna is here, my sister too, and a bossy four-year-old. I promise I won’tbite.”

Not even if I want you to? “I’m sorry. You have better things to do than make me a coffee when you’reclosed.”

“No, come on in. Stay. We’re just about to sit down to familydinner.”

“Familydinner?”

“Yeah, we do it every Tuesday. That’s when Nonna comes to make our love knots. Most kitchens do a family dinner after hours. You gotta feed the help, and since B gives up her free time to help me run this place, and Nonna bakes, we all just kinda converge in the kitchen and feed like hungryhippos.”

I laugh at that reference. I had that game as a child, but without any siblings or parents who were interested enough to play, my hippos ate slowly. One at a time, and they were always courteous andpolite.

I should work. I know I should, but that smell is amazing. And really, what's the point working for yourself if you can't push your hours back when you needto?

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” I give him my best flirty smile and walk through the door as he steps aside. “I should warn you, though, I’m reallyhungry.”

“Mmm . . . me too. Starved in fact,” hemutters.

Was I meant to hearthat?

---