Page 59 of Pucking the Team
He pulled to a halt beside a tall-bricked wall that was shaded by a tree. “Wait there.”
He got out, and like before, he nipped around the back of the car to open my door for me. “Mademoiselle.” He rolled his hand and half bowed.
I giggled and got out into the heat of midday. I dropped my shades and straightened my t-shirt.
After he’d shut the car door and locked it, he offered me the crook of his elbow, and we walked back toward the front of the restaurant. “The truffle arancini are wonderful, and the seafood risotto to die for.”
I pressed my hand to my rumbling stomach. “I could go for arancini as a starter.”
“Then you shall have it. Last week I had a salmon carbonara main course, and it was divine.” He licked his lips. “Ah, but Benita’s chunky beef bolognaise is famous. A sun-dried tomato and olive focaccia to go with it…delicious.”
“Quite honestly, I could eat it all.”
He laughed. “Then let’s get you sat down.”
Within a few moments, a smartly dressed waiter had seated us at the back of the small restaurant that was rammed with tables and chairs, most of them occupied. It was twee, not quite someone’s living room but not far off. There were photographs around—plenty of Viper players—mismatched vases of fresh flowers, and a string of Italian flags. Candles were lit despite it being midday, and the air was thick with herby scents, garlic, and tomato.
“Eduardo, Stavros said you were here.” A short woman with a gray bun appeared beside the table. She wore bright-pink lipstick and an apron that readItalians Do It Better.
“Benita.” Eduardo stood again and kissed her on both cheeks. “How are you?”
“Oh, it is a busy day.” She wiped the back of her hand over her brow. “And the kitchen is hot.”
“Can I help?” Eduardo asked, not sitting down again. “Wash pots or—”
She laughed and batted his shoulder. “Do not be silly. You are here to eat, that is help enough, and you have brought a beautiful lady.” She turned to me and downturned her mouth. “But you do not eat enough.”
Anyone else would have got the sharp edge of my tongue for a comment like that, but the twinkle in her eyes and her kindly face told me there was no malice behind it.
“I have not eaten enough today, that is true,” I said. “So I am very much looking forward to my lunch. Eduardo has been making recommendations.”
“Ah, he has tried everything on the menu and all the specials, too.” She laughed. “I can take credit for him being big and strong.” She squeezed the hard ball of his shoulder. “He is fueled with my cooking.”
“And what are the specials?” Eduardo asked.
“They are there, on the board.” She glanced at the kitchen. “I must go…I have sauce…I will be back…”
She disappeared.
Eduardo grinned at me. “Sorry, she says what she thinks.”
“She’s adorable. I like this place already.” I glanced at the chalkboard that was covered in sumptuous-sounding dishes.
“Will you have a glass of wine?” he asked.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
He called a waiter and ordered us each a Pinot Grigio. When the waiter brought the two chilled glasses, we placed our orders. Arancini to start, bolognese for Eduardo, and chicken scarpariello for me.
“So,” Eduardo said, taking a sip of his wine. “Tell me about your parents. I’ve told you about mine.”
My throat tightened, and I, too, took a drink, hoping to relieve the feeling that always came when I was asked this question.
His eyebrows drew together. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“I just want to get to know you better.” He rested his hand over mine.
