Her top has the Revved logo — a car with flame detailing — on one side, and her name on the other. Caitlin. “Hi,” she says, smiling at me, but her eyes go to the man.

“Car’s overheating,” he says. “Make sure they’re taken care of.”

“You got it.” She grabs a regular menu and a kids’ menu. “Follow me, please.”

“But—” She’s already on her way, as if there weren’t a bunch of people in line ahead of us. Unless I want to make a scene, I’m stuck.

The man hasn’t left. He jerks his head in the direction Caitlin went, as if to say Go on, now. I shoot him a dirty look and then hurry after the hostess.

She’s waiting for us by what seems to be the only empty booth in the place. “Look,” I start, but I don’t get the chance to finish.

“I’ll be right back with a booster chair,” she says, and hurries off. With a sigh, I slide into the booth. She’s back as quickly as she promised.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I say in a low voice before she can take off again. “But why did you seat us in front of all those people?”

Caitlin’s smile is warm. She’s cute, and petite, with long brown hair and brown eyes. “You’re traveling, you have a baby, and it’s a hot day. None of them will begrudge you going ahead of them.”

“Really?” I squint at her. “Is everyone in this town unnaturally nice?”

She throws back her head and laughs. “It is a pretty nice town, now that you mention it. Gina will be with you in a minute.”

With that, she’s gone, but I’m still getting Sophie buckled into the booster chair when a curvy redhead comes over. “Hi. I’m Gina.”

Restaurant guests don’t normally introduce themselves to their waitresses, in my experience, but maybe in this town they do. “I’m Heather, and this is Sophie. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, Sophie.” She smiles and wiggles her fingers at my baby, who ducks her head.

“Don’t take it personally; she’s shy with strangers.” Except for the cranky, overbearing man who brought us here.

“No worries. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just water, please.” When she’s gone, I ignore the regular menu and look at the kids’ menu. The prices aren’t too bad, and Sophie won’t eat an entire pancake. I can have a bite or two of hers. Relieved, I set the menu aside and take Sophie’s sun bonnet off.

Gina comes back with a huge glass of water for me, and a small one for Sophie (“In case you want to put some in her sippy cup”).

“Thanks.” I appreciate her thoughtfulness.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes, the children’s pancake breakfast.”

She scribbles it on her pad. “And for you?”

“I’m just here for the air conditioning.”

There’s a pause, and then Gina slides into the booth opposite me. I’m too startled to say anything, and when she leans forward, I automatically do the same. In a low voice, she says, “Dante won’t be happy if you don’t eat.”

This is such an extraordinary statement, on multiple levels, that it takes me a moment to respond. In that time, my brain seizes on the least relevant but most tantalizing bit of data. “Dante? Is that his name?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

She rolls her eyes. “Men. Yes, his name is Dante.”

“Tell me his last name isn’t Alighieri.”

Gina grins. “Not quite. Adamo.”

“Dante Adamo.” It suits him, somehow. And I should not be thinking about that man at all, let alone pondering his name.

“Ton-tay,” Sophie repeats happily. I cut my eyes toward Gina, who’s now trying to hide her amusement and failing completely.

She doesn’t seem the type to be easily offended, so I just come right out with it. “Is he always dictatorial?”

Gina laughs. “Eye of the beholder, I guess.”

“You don’t think he’s ridiculously bossy?”

“Oh, he totally is. But Adamo men are like that.”

“Adamo men?” I repeat. “There are enough of them to be a type?”

“Oh, yes. The Adamos are the biggest clan in this whole state, and I mean that in terms of both numbers and influence. With very few exceptions, Adamo males are stubborn, bossy, and hot as —” her eyes slide toward Sophie “—heck. They will drive you crazy, but they’ll also drive you wild, if you know what I mean.”