He dances out of the way of Paul who tries to swat his ass, taking me in his arms instead and moving me to the food. “Now, Bella. While my darling husband saves the day, you have to trysome focaccia. I wanted to try a new version with sun-dried tomatoes and olives on top, but it’s missing something.”
He dips a chunk of bread in some olive oil that is dusted with herbs and lifts it to my mouth.
“Mmm,” I moan around the bite as the flavours explode. “That’s incredible.”
“Yes, yes, but what is it missing?” Gianni asks, handing me another bite. “You must help me, Bella. Your palate is the only one that comes close to mine.”
I grin at his arrogance. Somehow, it’s amusing and not annoying. He reminds me so much of Vito and my dad, heck, all of the men in my family back in Italy. Overly confident, yet still charming.
I take the second bite dutifully, this time not getting carried away in the rich taste and texture. Instead, I try to analyze it. “Hmm. There’s a lovely balance of sweetness from the tomatoes and the tang of the olives, but yes, it does need something.” I think for another minute before turning around and searching for what I want. Spying the dish that holds the large grains of salt used to garnish certain dishes, I snatch up another piece of bread, dip it in the oil, then put the tiniest pinch of salt on top. Popping that in my mouth, my eyes close.
“Yes? That is it? Salt? Mio dio. How could I be so stupid? Of course!” Gianni immediately copies my steps and takes his own bite of the bread, now with salt sprinkled on top. “Ah, perfect. You are a genius, my bella. A genius.”
He twirls me around with excitement, then brings me to a stop. “Please show me the magic of risotto. What do you need? I have everything.” He pauses and tilts his head to the side with a smirk. “Except pecorino. But we’ll have that soon enough.”
I shake my head in amusement. “I don’t need pecorino. I brought the ingredients, but I hope you have a suitable pan I can cook in?”
Gianni looks offended, raising his hand to his chest. “Bella. Must you wound me? Do I have a suitable pan? Of course, I do! My kitchen is your kitchen. Whatever you see, you use. Please.” He gestures over to the stoves that line one wall and then pivots me so I can see a rack that was hidden from where we were before. A rack full of gleaming pots and pans.
I rub my hands together in glee. “Let’s get cooking.”
“My three favourite words.”
“Mine too.”
Chapter nineteen
Kai
Never, not even once, have I wished it wasn’t baseball season.
Seriously. I’m the guy who dreams of February, of spring training, of one hundred and sixty-two games, more if you’re good enough. The rest of the year pales in comparison. It’s a slog of endless days of practice, training, and preparation.
But right now, I’m wishing I wasn’t walking into the stadium to warm up for a game. I’m wishing I was walking the Stanley Park Seawall with Isabelle, showing her more of what Vancouver has to offer. Or treating her to a night out at some of my favourite spots.
Basically, I just want to be with her. I haven’t seen her in over two weeks, thanks to our travel schedule. Now that we’re back in town, I want to change that.
“Yami!”
The aggravated tone of voice makes it clear this isn’t the first time Darling’s called my name.
“Yeah bro, what’s up?”
He’s staring at me, and I shift on my feet, not looking away from him.
“I said, are you comin’ over for dinner tomorrow. Evie’s getting in tomorrow morning.”
A smile creases my face. I haven’t seen my little sister in ages. “Damn right, I’ll be there. She better be bringing my niece.”
Darling rolls his eyes, but I know he’s just as much of a sucker for Evie’s dog Ruthie as I am. “Of course she is. I need to see both my girls.”
I fake a shudder. “Dude.”
“What? We’re not in the locker room. That was the rule,” he teases as we come up to the door. “I can’t talk about your sister in the locker room.”
I scowl at my best friend. “Listen. You know what I meant when I said that. Stop being a jackass.”
He ignores me and pulls the door to the locker room open. But before he steps inside, he shoots one last shot over his shoulder. “Just don’t come over too early tomorrow. You know what I’m sayin’?”
