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She’d tried her best not to laugh as his suit had got wrinkled and smudged as he’d helped load up the van. She imagined that Matteo spent most of his life looking immaculate. Much like the people around him. Why did she get the feeling she’d never fit in?
Her stomach gave a growl as she arrived in Westhampton and signaled to pull into the parking lot. There were numerous cafés around and she was sure they would find something good to eat in most of them.
Matteo’s driver was close behind her and by the time she’d locked up the van, Matteo was standing on the sidewalk waiting for her. He gestured toward the Rose Bakery Café, adorned with yellow cladding and with red and white awning flickering in the strong winds. “Want to try in here?”
There was a smell of cinnamon wafting from the front door. “Absolutely.” She smiled.
They walked up the steps and he held the door open for her. The waitress quickly showed them to a table, gave them some menus and took their order for drinks.
Phoebe let out a laugh as her stomach gave an obligatory growl. “What do you want to eat?” Matteo asked.
Phoebe closed her eyes for a second and breathed in deeply. “There’s far too many delicious smells in here. I can smell omelets, cinnamon buns, raspberry croissants and some delicious soups.”
He leaned across the table toward her. It was the first time she’d had a chance to notice the shadow along his jaw. Or the lines around his eyes. She rested her elbows on the table. It was so easy to lean forward too. “Are you okay, Matteo? Did you sleep last night?”
He blinked but didn’t pull back. He just tipped his head a little to the side. “I hate that you do that sometimes.”
“What?” He might be saying he hated her, but the expression on his face was telling her a whole other story.
He sighed as the waitress appeared with their drinks. “Blindside me.” He stared down at his Americano and laughed. He gave his head a shake. “Not many people in this life can do that.”
She licked her lips and smiled as the waitress stood poised with her order pad. “What’ll it be, folks?”
Phoebe looked at the waitress with hopeful eyes. “What kind of soup do you have?”
The waitress checked her pad. “Today we have potato chowder, lentil and bacon, and chicken and rice.”
“I’ll have the potato chowder, please.”
Matteo nodded. “I’ll have the omelet, please, with mushrooms and cheese.”
The waitress raised her eyebrows. “With salad or fries?”
“Salad, thanks.” The waitress gave a nod and waved her hand at the glass cabinet behind her. “Just remember, we have some great desserts too.”
Phoebe watched her saunter away then smiled at Matteo. “Do you think our order wasn’t big enough for her?”
He shrugged. “Hey, she’s right. They do have some great desserts. Maybe we’ll have some pie.”
Phoebe leaned her head on one hand as she stirred her caramel latte. “You don’t strike me as a pie kind of guy.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t? What kind of guy do I strike you as?”
She kept stirring her coffee as she contemplated her answer. “I think you might be a bit of a traditionalist. I’m surprised you didn’t try and steer us toward an Italian restaurant instead of a bakery.”
He gave a slow nod of his head. “Any other insights you want to share about me?”
This time his voice had the slightest edge. As if he were silently putting up walls between them.
She couldn’t help herself. She just started speaking. “You haven’t shaved. Last time I saw you, you were immaculate. And you look tired today. I’m sorry if I offended you. Because I didn’t mean to. I was just worried about you, because you looked so tired. You offered to help load the van and came out of your way to have lunch with me.”
“Do you always worry about people you hardly know?”
His steady green eyes were fixed on hers. She held her breath. She should take it as a compliment, but he hadn’t quite phrased it that way. He’d phrased it more as if she were just far too nosey.
She remembered talking to Captain Monaghan in the hospital. He’d been exhausted—and very sick. When she’d gone to get some light refreshments for her mother, she’d offered to get some for Rudy too. In fact, she’d ended up getting food and drinks for most of the other patients. It was her nature. Her way. She couldn’t and wouldn’t change it because Matteo Bianchi found her intrusive.
She shrugged and smiled. “Some people say I have a kind heart. I can live with that.”
As she looked up Matteo was studying her hard. A frown creased his brow and he leaned closer and lifted his fingers to her cheek. The contact made her flinch.
