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Grabbing my phone, I decide to give Jillian a call to make sure nothing’s come up and we’re still on for tonight.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Jillian. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for dinner.” She doesn’t answer right away, and I can’t help but wonder if she forgot all about this. “If you’ve made other plans, it’s no big?—”
“No, no. I’m looking forward to seeing you. My mom’s getting the kids. I just… I thought I heard hesitation in your voice. Don’t feel committed to this. I know you have your sister and Mimmo to look out for. The invitation started as a way to thank you, but now I feel a bit guilty.”
I can’t help but wince, that my nervousness would cause her to doubt how excited I am to spend the evening with her. “No, I’m eager to make dinner for someone who might appreciate it. I never get to cook.” I add. “Mimmo is happy with chicken nuggets, and Luna rarely eats. It’s a lot of trouble cooking for one. But I enjoy it.”
“Well, I should be providing dinner for you, since you were nice enough to help me with my kids. Instead, you’re coming here to cook for me. That’s messed up.” She laughs. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled to have someone prepare me a home cooked meal. My mom leaves me leftovers when she cooks for the kids. But usually, I just have ready to heat meals in the fridge or the freezer. And hospital cafeteria food when I’m able to get a break.”
“That’s just sad.” I laugh. “I’ll be sure to make it a meal you won’t forget. Is six still okay?
“Yes. See you then.”
Fuck. Now I’m more nervous than when I dialed her number. Walking over to the kitchen counter, I pull out the little wooden recipe box that was my mother’s. It was the one thing I wanted after she died. Flipping through the cards, I find her spaghettiBolognese recipe I love. I take a picture of it with my phone so I can grab everything I need once I arrive at the market. Now to hit the shower and jerk off before I leave. I need to get all thoughts of sex and this woman out of my head.
An hour later, I’m pushing the metal cart through the store, gathering what I’ll need. So far, I’ve got ground meat, celery, carrots, onion, tomato paste, and a good bottle of white wine. I’m sure with the kids, she’ll have milk in the fridge. I need a good pasta. Heading to the refrigerated section, I hope they have some fresh tagliatelle. It will hold the sauce much better than thinner round pasta. Looking at the salad and fresh bread in the cart, I feel like I’m good to go. As I head to the register, I pass the floral section. I’m tempted to bring some beautiful flowers. But, hell, Luca. That’snotwhat this is. But there is one more thing that could make this meal perfect.
“Hello.”
“Luigi. It’s Luca. Can I ask a big favor?”
Sitting in Luigi’s car, I peer at the clock.Again. It’s 5:59. I feel like I’m sixteen, going on my first car date. If today has taught me anything, it’s that I need to get laid. Badly.
I have no trouble finding women to bed. Though I rarely have time to indulge in such things, with managing my business, which is perpetually behind, and trying to ensure Antonia and Mimmo are safe. But I can’t keep letting my body react to Jillian. She’s a good girl with as full a plate as I have. I don’t want to send her any mixed signals.
Gathering the grocery bags, I walk down the street and cross through her lawn, trying to slow my breathing until I reach her door.
I push the doorbell and moments later the door swings open, Jillian standing barefoot in a light blue button up dress with a sash tied at her waist. Her light brown hair is down with a few soft curls teasing her shoulders. There’s no flashy jewelry. Just a simple gold chain which dips down behind her collar. She has on very little makeup but doesn’t need it. She’s fresh-faced and flawless. She belongs on the cover of magazines, this one. She looks like what they call the all-American girl next door, as naturally beautiful as they come.
“Hi. I didn’t see your car.” She steps out onto her porch and looks both directions. “Where is your car?” Using my elbow, I point to the left and grimace. I know I’m going to have to come clean about the extremes I take in order to stay off the Messina family radar.
She quirks a brow, but I decide to stroll past her and hope I can delay that conversation a tad bit longer. “Do you have milk? It was the one thing I didn’t pick up.”
“Yes. With the kids, there’s always milk here.”
I place the bags on her counter and start unpacking to avoid the temptation to lean in and kiss her on the cheek.
“How can I help?”
I give her a scrutinizing stare.
“Oh, come on. I just need supervision. I can manage if I’m not in charge.” She laughs.
“Okay. You can start by putting the dessert in the refrigerator.” I hand her the white cardboard box Luigi prepared with his Tiramisu. As predicted, she can’t control her curiosity and lifts the corner of the lid with her fingernail and begins to dance on her tiptoes. My eyes travel down the length of her golden legs until they land on her light pink toenails, and I feel my dick spring to life.I knew I should have jacked off twice.
“Can you make the salad while I start the sauce?”
“Yes. Good plan.”
I start to chop the vegetables when I realize it’s entirely too quiet in here. We normally never find a lull in conversation, but I’m feeling nervous being here with her this way. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone and search for the playlist I used when I was making pizza with the kids the other night. First up, ‘TRUSTFALL.’
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a P!nk fan.”
“Oh, don’t judge me. A man covered in tats can’t like P!nk?” I give her a playful bump with my hip and immediately realize the error of my ways, as the tiny physical connection causes my cock to swell further. I take a step to the right and hope she doesn’t notice me putting a little extra distance between us.Onions. That should do the trick.I start chopping the onion next, hoping this will distract me from this appetizing woman.
After completing the salad, she hops up onto the counter to watch me as I work. Every now and then, I glance up to find her ogling my forearms as I chop and stir.Shit. She’s good for my ego. If only I didn’t get hard knowing her eyes are on my body. I try to shift gears. “So, tell me about your mother. Is she retired?”
