Page 47 of Sold to the Silver Foxes

“Straight out of Italy?” she asks, her eyes scanning over my pride and joy.

The machine is a monstrosity, but it makes the best cup I’ve ever had, so she’s worth every penny. The copper gleams in the early morning light. My espresso maker is nearly the size of therefrigerator next to it. “Good eye. My need for proper espresso knows no bounds.” I pull the lever, tamp the shot, and set it to pouring. “One or two?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“A double for us both, then.” The crema sits atop the perfect shot, and I pass it over. “Ladies first. Careful, it’s hot.”

“We have an espresso maker at the restaurant.” She takes a whiff of the aroma, eyes blissfully closed. “Oh, that’s the good stuff.”

“Thank you.” I pull my shots, and we settle at the breakfast bar. “So, Grandma Judy and Erin. Any other relatives I should be prepared for?”

“No. It’s just us.”

I hope I say this more tactfully than I normally talk about such things. “Your parents…?”

“Car accident. It was instantaneous. Semitruck plowed into them. They never saw it coming.”

I sigh, wondering how that must have been for her. But if I dwell on that, today will not go as well as it could. I can tell by the way she said the words stiffly, almost robotically. “I see. How long ago was that?”

“A few years.”

“So, Erin was quite young, and now this. Poor kid.”

Tabitha gulps and nods, trying to keep herself together. “She’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for.”

“A trait of Calloway women, I take it.”

That earns a smile. “Yeah. We’ve never had it easy. Grandma Judy’s husband died before I was born, and from what I hear, he was a handful. Mom always said Dad was too, but I never saw it.” She sips her espresso, savoring it for a moment. “He liked to read poetry and go fishing. But he wasn’t a guy’s guy type. He liked nature.”

“And your mother?”

“She liked arts and crafts. She was good at making things with her hands…” Tabitha pauses, tipping her head to the side. There’s a curious smile in her beautiful eyes. “I never talk about them like this.”

“What’s different now?”

“You, I think.” She takes a breath, and that curious smile becomes something that sets me on fire from the inside out. “You make me feel safe, Sal. Like you’re not judging me or like I can lean on you… I don’t get it.”

“I’m not, and you can.”

The tension in her shoulders—what little there was—melts away with her sigh. “Thank you for that.” She kisses my cheek, then stands. “I should get dressed. Ready in ten?”

“I will be.”

As she leaves the kitchen, I can’t help but watch her robe-covered ass sway on her way out. That girl has me ensnared, and I can’t manage the energy to fight it. For the first time in forever, I think my heart might cooperate.

21

TABITHA

The Aston Martinpurrs along the two-lane highway like a satisfied jungle cat. Frost rims the pines, and the sun turns them to silver bottlebrushes. Sal keeps one gloved hand on the wheel, the other relaxed on the gear shift, posture as controlled as a maître d’ at a Michelin restaurant. I sit sideways, knees curled beneath me, watching him more than the scenery.

I clear my throat. “So…in case my family starts asking questions, how do we cover how we met?”

“At your restaurant?”

“That’ll work, I think. All kinds of people come in there, and technically, I did meet Dante there first. Okay. That feels like less of a lie than anything I came up with.”

He smirks at that and glances over, eyebrow cocked but encouraging. “No sense in creating a lie that doesn’t align with some truth.”

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