“Did you just pinch yourself?” Mauro asks next to me while we wait for the paperwork to be processed after we each supplied a check for half the amount of Mauro’s bid on my childhood home.

I wrap my palm around the spot that I did, in fact, pinch myself at.

Wouldn’t you think it was a dream if you just decided to partner up with your high school crush putting him in your proximity for months on end? My sixteen-year-old self is throwing confetti in the air and dancing the cha-cha. My current self is wary as much as she is excited.

“I had an itch,” I lie.

He smirks, his signature trademark that probably has women stripping their panties off, but I need to hold him back with titanium arms because he’ll railroad this project from me if I let him.

“Congratulations you two. You’re proud owners of Property 1731.” Rachel holds the paperwork out and I snatch it from her hands.

Mauro looks over at me incredulously.

“I’ll keep everything organized.”

“What makes you think I’m not organized?” he asks.

Rachel shares a look with her assistant that reads more ‘aren’t they cute’ rather than ‘this property will be up for auction again in two months.’

“I have a system.”

“I’m sure you do and now I’m part of that system. Can you send me copies tonight?” His voice isn’t sweet and syrupy, instead, it’s almost accusatory as if I’d screw him over.

“Do you think I’m going to cheat you? Your name is on here.”

“Just making sure we’re in this together.” A dimness dulls his eyes for a split second before they sparkle again. “No fights where you lock me out of the house or anything.” The one side of his lips tip and I can’t help the way my body melts under his flirtatious nature.

“No worries.” I shove the papers in my purse. “Thanks, Rachel and Tracy. See you soon I’m sure.”

I head out the door, hearing Mauro speak his own goodbyes and the ladies slight swoon back with we hope to see you soon, too. His footsteps loom behind me as I walk to the elevator.

“Let’s go to breakfast, talk logistics.”

“How about we pick up breakfast and go over to the house? The sooner we figure out our game plan, the better. I can have a dumpster there tomorrow to get all the crap out of the house.”

He runs his fingers through his dark wavy hair.

Stop it, Maddie. Do not get sucked in.

“Okay. I’m off tomorrow and I can round up a crew.”

“Hold up, stud. Let’s go over plans before we start demolishing everything.” I step into the elevator, the small box feeling even more claustrophobic with him sharing the space.

“Stud? I like it.” His cocky grin appears—again.

“Don’t take it as a compliment.”

He steps forward, his hand landing on the silver railing at my side, his body so close to mine that my heart pounds in my chest as if it wants to reach out and touch him. “No?” he questions in a gravelly voice.

I shake my head, I haven’t been this close to him since that night long ago and he still has the ability to paralyze my body.

“Stop messing around.”

He chuckles and steps back out of my personal space.

Why would he even do that?

Running another hand through his hair, he stretches, bending and twisting in every direction.

“If you’re tired…”

His gaze shifts to mine quickly. “No. We’re in this together remember?”

“I know, but I slept eight hours last night and you…didn’t.”

“It’s okay, I’m used to no sleep.”

“If you say so.” I shrug.

“Good, we should probably get some ground rules set,” he says.

The elevator doors open. “Well, I’ll pick up some breakfast and I’ll meet you at the house. We can go over the business plan, talk about what we’re going to do with improvements, so we know what walls to tear down.”

“I’ll grab the breakfast. What do you want?” he asks.

We exit the federal building and a man is walking toward us with a mass of media behind him. I freeze. We both shift our bodies to clear a path and it isn’t until the suited man passes that I figure out who he is.

He doesn’t see me, and just says “No comment” over his shoulder to the throng of reporters behind him before walking through the glass doors.

“That must be about that big fire. I know our Lieutenant said the investigation as to the cause is almost wrapped up and they’re supposed to announce the findings soon,” Mauro says next to me.

My gaze shifts to him because there’s something about his voice…that’s when I notice the flush that usually fills his cheeks is gone.

“Probably. The DA is my neighbor. That’s him.” I nod in the direction where Reed Warner finds solitude away from the cameras. He doesn’t stop until he’s through security and in the elevator.

“Good guy?” he asks, his eyes still on the media cluster that would make anyone think they’re following a celebrity, not the district attorney.

“Really good guy. Did you know—”

He nods before I finish my question. “He was my buddy.”

I’d read the articles six months earlier about a horrible fire where a firefighter lost his life. Even saw the funeral procession on the news with shots of a blonde woman with a son in her arms crying as they walked behind the firetruck.

My hand lands on his forearm, finding his skin cold and clammy and I don’t think it has anything to do with the start of fall in Chicago. “I’m so sorry.”

My touch seems to shock him back to the present and his gaze darts up to meet my own. All I want to do is hug him to my body, he looks like a newly adopted puppy shaking with anxiety.

“Hazards of the job.” His hand covers mine. “Thank you though.”

I slide my hand from his arm realizing that I just touched Mauro Bianco and didn’t freak out.

The cameramen disperse, some going back to their vans parked along the street, others set up shots for the reporters in front of the building.

Wherever Mauro’s mind ventured off to must clear. “Breakfast, right? I know just the place,” he says.

His attention moves across the street and I spot the sandwich shop before he even mentions it.

“No one makes a breakfast burrito like my mama.” He nods in the direction of his family’s shop.

I drag my feet. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your mom?”

He stops and smiles which is a relief after the look on his face moments ago. “She’ll love you.” He shrugs.

“Gee, will she approve of our shotgun wedding?” I laugh which spurs Mauro’s amusement.

“You really are funny.” He stares down at me while we wait for the walk symbol to appear on the streetlight.

“Thanks.”

His eyes don’t leave mine and my breathing picks up under his scrutiny. “I think we’re going to make great partners.”

I turn away first because I need to get a grip. Thankfully the pedestrian walk sign appears and I step off the corner before a hand grabs my upper arm and pulls me back as a blur of yellow streaks by me.

My back presses against his chest. Firm and strong.

“Watch it, asshole!” he yells at the cab driver.

“Thank you.” I untangle from his grip as much as my body protests.

“No problem.” His hand takes mine and he leads me across the street lightly jogging when the yellow hand replaces the white walking symbol.

He doesn’t release my hand once we reach the other side of the street, like I assumed he would. Instead, he opens up the door for me to his parents’ sandwich shop and shifts his hand to the small of my back.

He’s Italian, they’re touchy, I remind myself.

“Ma!” he yells into the empty restaurant.

It’s a typical deli where you order and wait for your number to be called. You can have a seat at the long tables with stools along the window or in the booths that line the back wall which is painted in thirds. One with the Chicago fire department symbol, one for the police and another for paramedic. It’s clear to me and their customers that their sons are their life.

“Mauro?” A woman who is shorter in stature, a little plump with dark, wavy shoulder-length hair emerges from the back, wiping her hands on her white apron that says, My favorite hood is motherhood.

“Hey, Mama.” He smiles then hugs her and kisses her cheek. She does the same, but her gaze is fixed on where I stand behind him.

“This a friend?” she asks him in the cutest Italian accent.

Mauro steps back from his mom, holding his arm out in my direction. “Ma, this is Madison Kelly. Madison, this is my mom, Maria.”

A warm smile crosses his mom’s lips and her head tilts in a ‘I know you’ gesture. She points her finger at me. “Valedictorian?”

A warm flush heats my cheeks and Mauro studies me.

“Luca’s class, right?” she asks.

“Yes,” I answer sheepishly.

Her finger moves to Mauro and then back to me. “You two?”

“No,” I quickly refute.

Her smile dims. “Oh.” Her eyes shift to Mauro who shrugs like they’re having a conversation between them without words.

“We’re going to be business partners,” he says after confusion masks her face.

“Business?” she asks, sliding behind the deli case and sifting through some paperwork.

“Remember Hunter and I were going to buy a house, fix it up and then sell it?” Mauro approaches the counter, his forearms flexing under the weight of him leaning over so his mom hears him.

“Yes.” She doesn’t turn around. I can’t help but notice her curt demeanor after I said we weren’t a couple. She rambles something in Italian and Mauro looks over his shoulder at me for a moment.

He responds back in Italian and before I realize it, she’s turned back around, her voice rising, her face red again.

“Enough Mama,” Mauro says, his back rod iron straight.

She tilts her head and I don’t need to understand Italian because her body language says it all. It’s a warning for him to watch how he talks to her.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t the time,” he says, slightly chagrined.

“What is going on?” A man comes out from the back, taking plastic gloves off his hands and throwing them into a trashcan behind the counter.

“Papa,” Mauro says.

The man who bears Mauro’s light eyes, Cristian’s nose, and Luca’s mouth seeks the source of the reason for the high voices. “Hello.” He rounds the deli cabinet, his hand already extended to me. “Anthony.”

“Madison,” I say and shake his hand.

“I was just telling Mama that Madison and I are going into business together.” Mauro steps to my side, his hand finding the small of my back like he’s presenting me as a gift, or a girlfriend.

I swallow past the dryness in my mouth and force on a smile that probably looks as awkward as this moment feels.

“Business?” his dad asks, a crease between his brows.

“The flipping houses thing? With Hunter…well, Madison already has her own business and we’re going to work together on a house.” His dad smiles down at me. I recognize it as the same smile Luca has, but his eyes are just as mesmerizing as Mauro’s.

“Congratulations. That’s wonderful news.”

The deli phone rings. Mauro runs over and answers it before his mom can. He whispers something and hangs up. Again, he and his mom have a silent conversation, their eyes move to me and then back to each other.

“We’re here for breakfast,” Mauro announces. “Burritos, Mama?”

She smiles, her hand landing on his cheek as she studies his eyes. With a pat on the cheek, she smiles. “Anything for you.”

“Non vedo l’ora,” Mauro says.

His mom smiles and heads to the back.

“Very nice to meet you, Madison,” Anthony says and follows his wife to the back of the deli.

Mauro comes over to me, sliding a chair out. “Sorry about the Italian. She’s usually really good about not speaking in Italian when others are around who don’t speak the language, but just hearing Hunter’s name sends her in a tizzy.” Mauro sits in his own chair across from me, legs sprawled out in front of him.

“That’s okay.”

I want to ask why that is? Was the partnership bad before he died? Is the fact that he died what angers his mom? There are a million reasons it could be, but it’s none of my business. We need to keep this relationship professional.

“Your parents are nice.”

A proud grin forms, revealing a mouth full of sparkling white teeth. “They’re the best.” He taps his fingers on the table. “What about your parents? Do they still live around here?”

My heart stumbles over a beat when I remember that he didn’t know one key piece of information before we agreed on the partnership. If I were him, I would want to know. I cringe.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”