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Michael jumped at the sudden close contact.
I shivered.
He smelled like soap and mild cologne and a little bit of motor oil. None were unfamiliar scents, but on him, together? They were disturbingly delicious.
“Hold still, it’s crooked.” I pulled at the gray paisley, all too conscious of the minty scent lingering on his warm breath. He’d brushed his teeth right before coming here. For some reason, the idea was endearing.
Our guest morphed into a statue while I took a bit too long to fix his tie. And stare at the St. Gennaro tattoo on the side of his neck. The one that matched the medallion I wore almost every day.
I swallowed. “There, that’s better. Nonna likes things neat.”
Michael coughed. I thought maybe his cheeks were slightly pinked, but under his stubble, it was hard to tell. “I—Thanks. I guess.”
“Anything for her.”
I should have stepped away. But I couldn’t. And apparently, neither could he. We both stood there, toes maybe an inch apart, breathing each other’s scents, staring into each other’s eyes. The sounds of my jabbering family, scents of Nonna’s manicotti, and glimmers of hallway lights all seemed to fade. For a split second, my entire world revolved around his oddly wizened yet electrically tentative dark-eyed gaze.
And the way it dropped to my mouth. And stayed there.
Holy crap. So, this was what they called chemistry.
“Whoa,” I whispered before I could help myself.
“Yeah.” Michael’s voice was suddenly rough. “I?—”
“Lea, let the boy in,” Nonno called from behind me. He came through the hallway, then set a heavy hand on my shoulder to pull me out of Michael’s reach. “Don’t crowd him.”
Michael hopped back like he’d been bitten, then offered a sheepish smile as I stepped out of the way to let the two of them shake hands.
“Thanks for having me…Mattias,” Michael said.
My brows jumped. To his employees, Nonno had always been Mr. Zola or Signor Zola, or maybe Mr. Z if they were on really good terms. The fact that Michael had thrown “Mattias” out there—and that Nonno had let him—told me two things. One, the dude had some balls. And two…Nonno might have actually liked him.
Curious.
“You did good this week,” Nonno said to Michael. “Genius with the Barracuda. And you fixed the brakes on the Cabriolet in no time. Faster than Tony. Where did you learn?”
Another notable difference. Nonno wasn’t exactly quick with praise.
“I, uh, learned some stuff as a kid at one of the houses where I stayed—the owner was into cars. And then I guess I just picked up things here and there wherever I went. It was one of the few things I was ever good at.”
My pulse kicked up as Michael’s shoulder brushed mine. Even though it was the briefest touch, he was still warm and solid. He glanced over his shoulder toward me, then followed Nonno as my grandfather chattered about more car repairs.
I followed them back into the dining room, where Nonna had put out the rest of the meal family style.
“Good, good,” she said as I handed her the wine. “We needed some.”
“It’s from our guest, Michael,” I told her loudly so everyone would hear.
“Grazie, Michael,” Nonna said as she offered him a kiss on each cheek, then went back to the kitchen while Nonno introduced the rest of the family after he sat down.
“This is Joni, the baby,” Nonno said, gesturing to the two hellcats—otherwise known as my littlest sisters—sitting against the wall. “Marie, next. Frankie over here with Kate. That’s Lea helping her grandmother—she answered the door—and Matthew, my grandson, on my right.”
“Hi.” Michael gave an awkward wave as he lowered himself into the chair on Nonno’s other side, clearly overwhelmed by the six Zola kids giving him identical green-eyed stares. He didn’t even seem to notice when I slipped into the seat next to his.
“Scarrone, hey,” Matthew greeted him. “Heard you were back.”
My big brother was as lanky and churlish as you’d expect a twenty-year-old to be. Especially one that had been raising his little sisters for most of his life. But his eyes were as sharp as our grandfather’s, and even in the last year and a half, I’d watched Matthew blossom from a boy into a man in the smallest of ways.
