Chapter 11
Natalia
Since I’d returned from California, I’d missed three Sunday night dinners at my mother’s house, and now I was late for a fourth because our train hadn’t budged in fifteen minutes.
“Why don’t we just take your car, or better yet, an Uber, out to Howard Beach like we always did when Dad came?”
Isabella was a smart girl. She knew the answer.
“Because driving from the City to Howard Beach takes forever in traffic, and an Uber is a hundred and fifty dollars round trip. The A train is faster and three bucks each way.”
She raised her perky little nose in the air. “When I grow up, I’m not going to be poor.”
“We’re not poor.”
“So why are we in this stalled sweat box right now instead of an air-conditioned Uber?”
“Because we don’t waste money. We make wise decisions on how to use it.” I pointed my chin at her feet. “You know, like on those hundred-and-forty-dollar Nikes I just bought you. There’s your Uber.”
She rolled her eyes, but stopped bitching. A few minutes later, the train finally started to move again. It was just in the nick of time, too. I’m not claustrophobic or anything, but the oppressive heat had me feeling like I was trapped inside a sealed baggie with no air.
Mom’s house was a fifteen-minute walk from the train. She lived in the same two-family brick house we’d lived in growing up—only instead of a tenant to help pay the rent upstairs, now my oldest sister and her family occupied the space. They’d moved in two years ago when she had her second baby so Mom could help with the kids.
The smell of sauce wafted through the air as we turned the corner to my mother’s block. Of course, this was Howard Beach, so almost every brick house in the neighborhood had an Italian family cooking sauce—or gravy, as most of them called it. But I could actually identify the smell of my mom’s sauce. My mouth salivated as we walked closer.
I used my key to let myself in. “We’re here! Sorry we’re late.”
My mother pursed four fingers together while she spoke. “The pasta is going to be overcooked.” She power-kissed both of my cheeks and then moved on to Izzy. “You’ve grown even more in the last few weeks. Now you have more room for meatballs. Come. You can lick the spoons on the cake I just made before you set the table.”
I followed the two of them into the eye of the storm, otherwise known as the kitchen. My two nieces were in highchairs, the one year old crying and the two year old banging a spoon against her plastic tray while yelling “Ma Ma Ma Ma” nonstop. My sister Alegra yelled hello while dumping sauce from a giant pot into a giant bowl. My sister Nicola screamed fuck while pulling bread from the oven—she’d apparently burned herself. And Mom began scolding her in Italian for her language.
Yep. I missed Sunday night dinners.
Jumping in, I grabbed glasses and napkins and started setting the dining room table. When I went back into the kitchen to grab plates, the doorbell rang.
“Will Francesca ever remember her key?”
“Your sister isn’t coming. She’s in Jersey for the weekend, down at the shore,” Mom mumbled. “I hope she brought sunscreen.”
“Well, that makes setting the table a lot easier.” My sister Francesca had an array of obsessive-compulsive behaviors, one of them being symmetry and orderliness. It took her over an hour to fix the table after someone else set it on Sundays. Growing up, I’d shared a room with her, which was how I became interested in cognitive behavioral therapy to begin with—not that she’d let me work with her or even go see a different therapist.
The doorbell rang again.
“Natalia, go answer the door.”
“Why? It’s probably just someone who wants to save our souls.” I turned to Alegra. “On second thought, you should probably get it. Your soul needs saving, floozy.”
Mom barked, “Go get the door, Natalia. That’s our guest. Don’t keep him waiting.”
“Our guest?”
“Go! And brush your hair before you answer the door.”
I shook my head, but headed to the front door anyway. If Bella Rossi said jump…
The peephole was so damn high, I had to stand on my tippy toes and crane my neck to the sky. A man stood on the top step of the stoop, facing the street. From the back, he looked damn good in his jeans. Maybe I should have fixed my hair for the Jehovah’s Witness after all. Wait? Do Jehovah Witnesses have premarital sex? I smirked to myself. I really need to get laid. I’m checking out the religious solicitor standing on the stoop next to a statue of the Virgin Mary at my mother’s house.
With a smile still on my face, I opened the door. “Can I help you?”
The man turned, and my breath caught in my throat. I blinked a few times, but it didn’t change the face in front of me—the gorgeous face with a smile that slowly curved into something wicked.
“What…what are you doing here?”
“Your mother invited me for dinner.”
I’d forgotten whose number I’d punched into his phone when I last saw him in California a month ago. “My mother?”
“Yes. You accidentally gave me Bella’s number instead of yours, remember?”
Oh. My. God. I’m going to kill my mother. I’d given Hunter the number as a joke, figuring he’d take the not-too-subtle hint. And if not, I’d been sure Mom would send him running the other direction. She couldn’t talk to a single man for three minutes without mentioning that her daughter Natalia needed a husband and babies.
I was utterly and completely bewildered to see Hunter standing at my mother’s door. “My mother invited you, and you flew across the country for her sauce?”
“I had business in New York this week, and Bella thought it would be nice for us to see each other again. I figured since I was here, it would give you an opportunity to rectify your mistake in giving me the wrong number. Again.”
“I think you might be a little insane.”
My mother startled me when she flung open the door that had swung partially closed behind me.
“Ah, you must be Hunter.” She stepped forward and kissed both his cheeks. “So nice to meet you. Why are you still standing outside? Did my rude daughter forget her manners? Come in. Come in.”
I hadn’t moved since I’d opened the door. Hunter stepped around me into the house, pausing as he passed. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “I’ll take a proper kiss hello later.”
***
I still couldn’t believe Hunter was in New York, much less sitting at the head of my mother’s dining room table. Everyone’s hands were joined and our heads bowed to say grace, which gave me the perfect opportunity to stare at him without being caught. God, he was so damn handsome. Dangerously so. As my mother prayed to the Holy Mother Mary, I found myself thinking what it would be like to be underneath this man. Bella would spend a week in church praying for my soul if she knew the thoughts I was thinking during her prayer.
I bet he fucked hard and was attentive in bed. Unconsciously, my tongue ran along my bottom lip as a thousand dirty thoughts flooded my mind. Of course, Hunter picked that moment to open his eyes and glance up at me. A boyish grin crossed his face as our eyes locked. God, my stomach fluttered like a teenage girl’s.
I forced my eyes back shut for the rest of grace, which wasn’t an easy task. Just like the first time we were together, I found myself amazed that a man had such a visceral effect on me—a lot like things had been at first with Garrett. That thought was better than a cold shower. At least my ex-husband was still good for something.
It took less than two minutes after prayer for the Rossi women to start the inquisition. Hunter had no idea what he was in for sitting at a table of seven Rossi women and one teenage girl with an attitude.
“So, Hunter, how did you and my sister meet?”
“At Derek and Anna’s wedding.”
My mother chimed in. “Hunter caught the garter, and Nat caught the bouquet. Isn’t that romantic?”
A room full of awwws ensued.
Mom added, “Hunter has a degree in architecture. He’s in commercial building.” It sounded like Mom and Hunter had spent a lot of time on the phone. Of course, my mother probably thought he was ready to give her grandchildren next week. She’d invite Jeffrey Dahmer to dinner if it meant I got married again and popped out a baby. Little did she know, Hunter Delucia only wanted to defile her daughter.
“It sounds very romantic.” Did my sister Alegra just bat her eyelashes and swoon?
Izzy looked at me. “You’re dating that guy?”
“No.”
“Because don’t you have a date with that dweeb Marcus this week?”
Thanks for keeping my secrets there, kid. “Ummm…. Yes. But like I said, Hunter and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”
Hunter smiled at Izzy and winked. “Friends who sometimes kiss.”
My eyes went wide. Izzy seemed to find the situation amusing. I put down my napkin and stood. “Hunter, can I speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?”
He looked to my mother before standing. “Please excuse me for a minute, Bella.”
I heard Izzy say, “She probably wants to kiss him again,” right before the dining room broke out in laughter.
My hands went to my hips as Hunter shut the kitchen door behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He feigned innocence. “Having dinner. Getting to know your family.”
“You just told them we kiss sometimes!”
He leaned against the kitchen island and folded his arms across his chest. “We do.”
“First of all, it’s inappropriate. Izzy is not even sixteen yet. And it’s none of my family’s business. And secondly, it was only twice, and the first time I was drunk, so that doesn’t count.”
“It was five times, and I’m counting the time you were drunk. By the way, that time, you kissed me.”
“Five? It wasn’t five times. And I seriously doubt I initiated the kiss. You’re just making that up because you know I don’t remember it well.”
“Five times.” He held up a finger. “One—the night of the wedding.” A second finger came up. “After the wedding—the next morning against the hotel door.” A third finger came up. “At my house—started at the window, ended on the bed.” The fourth finger rose. “In the elevator, when I said goodnight to you like the gentleman I’m not.”
Okay, so maybe I had forgotten about the house. Damn. That was a good kiss. “Fine,” I snapped. “But that’s four and not five.”
The devilish look on Hunter’s face made my knees weak. He closed the gap between us faster than I could come to my senses.
“Kiss me,” he said gruffly.
He didn’t wait for a response before crushing his lips to mine. God, can this man kiss. It was slow, confident, and had the perfect amount of aggressiveness that made me want to claw at his skin.
When the kiss broke, Hunter leaned his forehead against mine. “That’s five, sweet pea.”
He must have sucked the brain out of my head along with my tongue, because I smiled back at him like an idiot instead of telling him to shove it up his ass. His damn, sexy ass, I might add.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Me either. But get used to it. I took an assignment out here for a while.”
“How long are you in town?”
He looked into my eyes. “Two months. And don’t bother to try to hide anymore. Your mother gave me your number a week ago.”
***
Seven at one blow.
I remember reading the Brothers’ Grimm Fairy Tale where the giant is impressed because he thinks the tailor slayed seven men with one blow. The tailor had nothing on Hunter Delucia, who’d charmed seven Rossi women and one disgruntled teenager over one dinner. Okay, so maybe it was eight Rossis, including me, but who’s counting anyway?
After dinner, both of my sisters and my mother peered out the front windows to watch Hunter play basketball with Izzy in the driveway. I sat in a chair across the room, attempting to pretend I had no interest in looking.
“Jesus Christ, every time he does a jump shot, his shirt rides up. I hope he kicks Izzy’s ass,” Alegra said.
“I haven’t seen a V like that in…well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like that in person.” Nicola swooned.
Mom was Team Hunter all the way. “He’s a handsome man. But I invited him to dinner without even seeing him. So that should tell you something. He’s just as attractive inside as out.”
I rubbed my temples. “How long did you talk to him?”
“Long enough to know he’s had one serious girlfriend, his mother died when he was seventeen, he had one brother who died a few years ago, and his hobbies are scuba diving, surfing, and rock climbing.”
My jaw hung open. “He had a brother who died? Rock climbing?”
“Yes, his name was Jayce. He’s also Catholic. He hasn’t been to confession in quite a few years. You should work on rectifying that. It’s good for the soul to ask the Lord for forgiveness.”
Why in the world did this man show up at my mother’s door? Any other man would have run as fast and far as he could without looking back. Instead, not only did he survive the interrogation by my mother—a woman who because of her own experiences is leery of all men—but I got the feeling my mother might have had a bit of a crush on the man herself.
I stood and walked to the window where she was still gawking. Standing behind her, I placed a hand on her shoulder. “He sounds great, Mom.”
“He does.”
“You have my blessing.”
“Good. Wait. What?”
“You have my blessing to go out with him. I know he’s a few years younger than you, but I think you two will make a great couple.”
My sisters smirked at me behind my mother’s back.
Mom actually blushed. “I’m not interested in him for me. I meant for you!”
“Uh-huh.” I hid my smile and made a face that said sure you are.
“Natalia Valentina Rossi. You need to get back out into the dating world, and this man has flown all the way across the country to get to know you better.”
“He has a job out here, Mom. He travels for work, and his job happens to be in New York this time.”
“It didn’t happen to be in New York. He requested the project so he could be closer to you.”
I was taken aback. “He told you that?”
Izzy blasted through the front door. “He’s better than my coach!”
Is that…a smile I see on her face? The man wasn’t just a charmer, he was a fucking magician.
“But he’s not as good as me, is he?”
Hunter walked in behind her and closed the front door. He was sweaty, so deliciously sweaty. “You play?”
Izzy scoffed. “When she shoots a free throw, one of her legs goes up like she’s Marilyn Monroe. And a few weeks ago, she scored a goal.”
Hunter’s brows drew down. “She plays soccer, too?”
“No, that’s what she said when she miraculously hit a basket. She started jumping up and down yelling that she’d scored a goal.”
“I was excited.”
Izzy shook her head, but the smile never left her face. “I invited Hunter to come see my game on Tuesday. He’s gonna watch and tell me what I’m doing wrong, like Dad used to do.”
I looked at Hunter. “Oh, is he?”
“Is that okay with you?” he asked, looking sincere.
Izzy was so excited, I couldn’t possibly say no. At least that’s the reason I gave myself when I didn’t object.
“Sure. That’s nice of you. I have plans after the game, but I can make them a little later to stay for the recap.”
The Hunter swoon-fest continued during dessert. After we’d finished, when I caught the time on my phone, I was surprised to find it was almost ten o’clock. Normally we were out of here by eight since Izzy had school in the morning and the train ride was over an hour.
“It’s getting really late. We better head out, Izzy.”
She frowned. But then a thought gave her momentary hope. “What train do you take, Hunter?”
“I drove here. But I’m staying in Manhattan. I can drop you ladies on the way to my sublet.”
I said, “No, thank you” at the same moment Izzy said, “That’d be great.”
Both looked at me with pouts. I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Traffic should be moving by now anyway.”
The car ride was surprisingly quiet. Izzy put her headphones on in the backseat and fell asleep ten minutes into the ride, probably wiped out from playing basketball with Hunter for so long. Hunter looked lost in thought, and I struggled with my own thoughts as I looked out the window. Namely, while the idea of getting involved with this man was very tempting, I was in no way ready for a relationship. I also needed to keep my focus on the important things—my career and stepdaughter.
As we crossed the bridge back into Manhattan, Hunter broke the comfortable silence. “Your family is great.”
Knowing his mother and brother were deceased, I felt his words in my chest, and it made me appreciate what normally annoys the crap out of me. “Yeah, they are. But don’t tell them I said that.”
Hunter smiled and spoke quietly. “I hope you don’t mind my coming to the game Tuesday night. I played ball in college. She’s really good, and I didn’t know how to say no.”
“No, not at all. It’s really sweet of you.”
After a few more minutes, he said, “Those plans you mentioned having after the game, would those be the same plans Izzy mentioned at dinner that involve a guy named Marcus?”
I nodded. “One and the same.”
“First date?”
“Second.”
Again he went quiet. Eventually, he said, “Poor bastard.”
My brows drew down. “What? Who?”
“Marcus. Probably had a nice first date. Won’t understand why you’re so distant on the second one and never accept a third. Will think he did something wrong.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hunter shrugged. “You’ll be busy thinking of me on your date Tuesday night. Poor bastard won’t even know what hit him.”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
Even though Izzy was sleeping with headphones on, he leaned in close to whisper, “Maybe. But soon you’ll be full of me, too.”