Page 4 of Purrfectly Mated

Ew again.

Elissa shivered, slightly chilled despite the fact they were indoors. It was a cold, gloomy evening, and the forecast called for even more rain later that night. Not at all unusual for this time of year in the Garden State.

November was always chilly in the evenings, rainy too. Elissa tended to run warm, but she was glad she’d brought a jacket with her. Especially since her date refused to turn the heat on in the car.

When she’d asked, he’d looked offended and told her it wasted gas.

Um. Okay.

She checked her phone. It was only seven o’clock, but the two hour drive was still ahead of them. Maybe they could make it home before ten if they left soon.

Ugh. Did he just blow his nose?

“Allergies, doll. Say, you gonna eat that?” he asked before scooping a fry from her dish and swallowing it down.

Elissa was gonna kill her roomie. Gretchen was a hair and nail stylist. A lot of her clients were elderly, and they just loved her. They were always offering to set her up on blind dates with their nephews and grandsons.

Mostly, the sweet old ladies were kind. They swore they could find her curvy roommate the right man, assuming she was single because she was new to town. Well, when Elissa got home tonight, she was going to tell Gretchen she needed to fire the old lady who set this date up from being her client.

LikeASAP.

No one who liked Gretchen would’ve sent her out with this guy. Gianni reached over and touched her hand and Elissa pulled back, reaching for the napkin.

Gross.

"I sure hope you ain’t a cold one, doll,” he said, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Ain’t gonna matter. I know just what you need, doll.”

She was still wiping the greasy residue he’d transferred to her skin from the food he ate sans utensils. This was too much. Elissa was beyond uncomfortable with all the leering and bad attempts at innuendo.

Plus, she was starving. One look at the dump he’d taken her to, and she knew she could never eat there. The chef in her wouldn’t allow it.

To think they drove two hours for this! She’d practically frozen to death in his maroon Cadillac, listening to a CD of the Rat Pack, while Gianni crooned loudly, and off key, to the music.

Normally, she was a fan of the famous group of legendary singers. Having grown up in Hoboken, she couldn’t not be a Sinatra fan. Though, to be honest, Dean Martin had always been her favorite.

Still, Elissa was a firm believer that there were just some people you did not try to imitate. Especially not if you were Little Gianni. While he was belting his heart out, he’d been trying to get his right hand on her thigh. She’d asked him politely to stop.

Twice.

Then she’d been forced to try something a little more drastic. Like spilling her hot tea on the offending hand the third time he’d tried it. Finally, he’d removed his hand from her leg. Not making a fourth attempt, which she was grateful for.

Elissa should’ve taken that behavior as a sign and gotten out of the car. But no. She’d wanted to do Gretchen a solid. So, against her better judgement, she gave the creep another chance.

Idiota, her grandmother’s voice echoed in her brain again.

The old woman had loved her. Elissa knew that without a doubt. She’d raised her after her own parents had passed on in a tragic automobile accident when Elissa was just twelve.

Her grandmother was a no-nonsense kind of lady who dished out priceless wisdom with brutally honest insights. It was the same way she dished out huge bowls of pasta with her amazing meatballs and homemade sauce. Not to mention a side order of back-breaking hugs that Elissa still missed.

Nonna cooked like that all the time. She made a huge pot of sauce every weekend, and she was happy to serve it to Elissa and her teammates and friends, especially after games and tournaments.

Soccer had been her sport of choice, and cooking had soon become her favorite hobby. Her grandmother had encouraged her in both pursuits. Guiding her in one and cheering her on in the other. Elissa still missed her terribly.

“Hey babe, ain’t you gonna eat nothin’? You know they charge twenty dollars just to sit down,” Little Gianni interrupted her train of thought.

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