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That caught his attention. A chance to turn the tables away from himself and back to her. “Have you lost a parent?”
Silence enveloped the car. Only the hum of the engine and the tires rolling over the blacktop could be heard. Lizzie turned away to stare out the side window as Dante drove on, waiting and wondering.
“Lizzie, you can talk to me. Whatever you say won’t go any further.”
He took his focus off the road for just a moment to glance her way. She cast him a hesitant look. He had a feeling she had something important to say—something she didn’t normally share. He really hoped she’d let down her guard and let him in. He wanted so bad
ly to understand more about her.
“My mother died.” Her voice was so soft.
“I’m sorry. I guess we’ve both had some hard knocks in life.”
“Yes, but at least you have a loving family. And you can always go home when you want to...” It seemed as though she wanted to say more but stopped.
This conversation was much deeper—much more serious than he’d ever expected. He wanted to press for more information, but he sensed now wasn’t the time. Spotting a small village up ahead with a trattoria, he slowed down.
“You know, we left without eating. Would you care for a bite of food? And they have the best caffé around. I noticed that you have quite a fondness for cappuccino.”
“I do. And I’d love to get some.”
He eased off the road and maneuvered the car into the lot. Before he got out, he knew there was something more he had to say. “I’m sorry about what happened back at the vineyard. The kiss was a mistake. I didn’t mean to cross the line. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
She turned to him and smiled, but the gesture never quite reached her eyes. “Don’t worry. You’d have to do a lot more than that kiss to hurt me. Now let’s get that coffee.”
Without giving him a chance to say anything else, she alighted from the car. Her words might have been what he wanted to hear, but he didn’t believe her. His gut told him that he’d hurt her more deeply than her stubborn pride would let on.
He didn’t know what it was about Ms. Lizzie Addler from New York, but she was getting to him. He longed to be a good guy in her eyes, but he was torn between his desire to help her and his need to sell the ristorante in order to return to the vineyard and help his family. How was he supposed to make everyone happy? Was it even possible?
* * *
How had that happened?
Lizzie had entered the quaint restaurant with no appetite at all. And now as they exited the small family establishment, her stomach was full up with the most delicious sampling of pastas, meats and cheeses.
It had all started when they’d been greeted by the sweetest older woman. She’d insisted that they have a seat while she called to her husband, who was in the kitchen. Apparently they’d known Dante all of his life and were thrilled to see that he’d brought his lady friend to meet them. When Lizzie tried to correct the very chatty woman, her words got lost in the conversation.
“Are they always so outgoing?” Lizzie asked Dante as they approached the car.
“Guido and Luiso Caruso have known my family for years, and yes, they are always that friendly. Did you get enough to eat?”
Lizzie gently patted her rounded stomach. “I’m stuffed.”
Dante snapped his fingers. “I forgot to give them a message from my grandfather. I’ll be right back.”
While Dante rushed back inside, Lizzie leaned against the car’s fender and lifted her face to the sun. Perhaps she was hungrier than she thought because now that she’d eaten, her mood was much lighter. And it’d helped that Dante had opened up to her about his family. No matter how little he cracked open the door to his past, every bit he shared meant a lot to her.
But nothing could dislodge the memory of that earth-shattering kiss. It was always there, lurking around the edges of her mind. But the part that stung was how Dante had rejected her. And his reasoning did nothing to soothe her.
Somehow she’d get past this crazy infatuation. Because in the end, he was right. They did have to work together over the next eight weeks. Not to mention that they shared an apartment—anything else, no matter how casual, would just complicate matters.
“Ready to go?” Dante frowned as he noticed her leaning against the flawless paint job.
“Yes, I am.”
As he got closer, she noticed how he inspected where she’d been leaning, as if she’d dented the car or something. His hand smoothed across the paint.
“Are you serious?” she asked incredulously.
