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I couldn’t hesitate on this one or he’d call my bluff. “Yes.”
“Then bring her to Tuscany so I can meet her. What better place to propose than at a vineyard in Italy?”
“What?” I gulped, the pressure now on more than before. “When?”
“Fly in a week from tomorrow. That should give you enough time to prepare,” he suggested. “Stay for a few days. We can get to know each other a little, and I’ll write you a check before you leave.”
My heart collided with my rib cage at his words.
Was he serious?
Twelve days from today, I had to pay off my brother’s debt. I didn’t want to press my luck and ask for more time, so I rushed out, “Yeah, okay. See you soon. Thank you.” I ended the call and nearly took a knee, wondering what in the hell I’d just agreed to do.
CHAPTER FIVE
NATALIA
Ryan stood on the other side of my doorway, eyeing the mug in my hand a few seconds too long before his gaze cut back to my face. After he’d walked away on the call, I’d spent a minute staring at the engine, quickly realizing I was in over my head. Begrudgingly admitting defeat, I’d gone inside to make coffee and drown my sorrows in a much-needed caffeine fix.
“Sorry about that.” His deep brown eyes returned to my face. “Can we finish that, uh, conversation now?”
“You mean the conversation where you asked me to be your own personal Tinder? Or whatever the newest dating app is called?”
He set a hand to the exterior frame of the door and leaned in a bit, making a dramatic show of inhaling the aroma of my coffee as his way to get me to invite him in for a cup. Apparently, he felt staring longingly at it wasn’t getting his message across.
“My parents aren’t home,” I blurted like some teenager worried about getting grounded for being alone with a boy. “My sister and niece slept here last night, and my parents followed them into Uptown to do some shopping,” I rambled, unsure why I was telling him all of this.
“It’s early.”
“They’re morning people,” I quickly replied, then took a step back. “But I suppose you can come in if you promise to behave.”
His grin caught me off guard, and when he asked, “Is there any other way I’d act around you?” my stomach did some weird fluttery thing.
Before I could catch myself, I mumbled, “Jackass comes to mind.”
It used to feel like he’d go out of his way to be a dick while I dated his brother. And I could recall three specific instances when he’d been a true horse’s ass.
“Fair enough.” His smile stretched as he lowered his muscular arm and reached out to flick the brim of my hat with his index finger. “But you have to admit, you tend to bring it out of me.”
My lips did that stupid comical thing you see on TV shows, where the girl makes a big O with her mouth, not quite wide enough to fit anything in there, especially not Ryan’s . . .
Why the hell was I remembering Ryan’s naked body now?
That night three years ago in Charlotte, I’d slipped on his boxer briefs with my eyes closed while waiting for 911 to come. But the memory of him naked, post-shower, before he’d blacked out, had lived rent-free in my head ever since. And that’d been problematic while dating Anthony.
“And how do I turn you into a jackass?” I finally asked.
His gaze shot to my mouth and back to my eyes again. “I think it’s best if we remain civil, so I better not answer that.” He winked. Damn him. “I’ll go help myself to a cup of coffee.”
Against my better judgment, I cleared out of his way so he could come in. “Sure, help yourself,” I tossed out when he walked by, hating myself for checking him out in those black shorts. The man didn’t skip leg days, that was for sure.
I took a few seconds to compose myself, remembered I was a thirty-two-year-old woman and not some teen girl with a crush, and then joined him in my parents’ outdated kitchen.
“Looks the same as it did back in high school.” Ryan tipped his head toward the Keurig machine. “Except that.”
My parents weren’t rolling in dough, so they couldn’t afford to remodel their home that was still stuck in the ’90s. Maria’s wealthy husband, Thomas, had offered to do it as a Christmas gift one year, but my dad turned him down. Thomas didn’t know my father. No handouts. Not ever.
“Soooo, about fixing my car in exchange for finding you a woman . . .”
