Forever with Me (With Me in Seattle, #8)(8)

“Ciao, cara,” I whisper into her ear. Her dark hair has been braided down her back. She’s in jeans and a tank top, looking happy and beautiful. “To what do I owe the honor of being invited to lunch with you two?”

“We just wanted to see you,” Natalie replies innocently.

“What she means is,” Jules begins as she gives the menu a quick look, tosses it on the table, and then leans toward me, her elbows planted on the wrought iron. “We need dirt.”

“Dirt?” I chuckle, and set my menu aside as well.

“We don’t know you well enough.”

“You’ve known me for more than a year, bella. We’ve spent quite a lot of time together.”

“You’re going to scare him off,” Natalie says in a sing-songy voice, glaring at Jules, making me chuckle. These two are funny.

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake.” Jules rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to scare him off.”

“Depends on where this is going,” I reply dryly, but can’t keep the smile from my face.

“You’re so handsome,” Natalie says, and smiles softly as she watches me. “I love your dimple.”

“Now you just want something.”

“He’s gotten good at the brother thing,” Jules says to Natalie, making my heart stop.

I hope so.

“So, we’re your sisters,” Natalie says as Jules nods. “And we love you.”

“I love you, too,” I murmur, already softening. My God, if I’d grown up with them, I would have been wrapped around their fingers from the moment I laid eyes on them.

Who am I kidding? I have been wrapped around their fingers since I laid eyes on them. Both of them, along with all of the women in this amazing family.

“You know that anything you need is yours. Just say it.”

“Oh, you’re sweet,” Jules says, as the waitress sets waters on the table.

“Yes, he is,” the waitress says and winks at me. “Is he available?”

“Well—” Nat begins, but I interrupt her.

“No.”

“Too bad. Sorry it took me a minute, the patio is always busy when it’s nice out like this. What can I getcha?”

We order drinks and when she’s gone, I gaze back and forth between the girls.

“We really did just want to chat and see you,” Natalie says, and lays her small hand over my arm. “We don’t get much alone time with you.”

“And we need dirt.”

“Jules!” Natalie laughs in frustration.

“What kind of dirt do you want?”

I sip my water and choke when Jules replies with, “Are you f*cking anyone?”

“Are you trying to kill him?” Natalie demands, and pats me hard on the back as I cough.

“What the hell?” I ask, and push the water far away from me. I think I need something much stronger and reach for the wine list, satisfied when I see Mama Salvatore wines listed.

“Well, you’ve always been very hush-hush about your sex life, and I know you’re not celibate, so I want to know.” Jules shrugs as if this is the most normal conversation in the world, and Natalie offers me a smile, but doesn’t try to deter Jules from her line of questioning.

“I don’t think I’m going to have this conversation with you,” I reply slowly. No way, no how.

“Why?” Jules asks with a tilt to the head.

“Because you’re my sisters.”

“Yes, but we’re adults. We have sex. We both have babies, for the love of baby Jesus.”

Natalie nods and thanks the waitress when she delivers our drinks. I order a glass of the merlot from my vineyard and we order our entrees as well.

“Let’s change the subject,” I suggest.

“Killjoy,” Jules mutters, making me laugh.

“How are things with Alecia?” Natalie asks.

I’m just going to be reminded of Alecia everywhere I go today.

“There are no things with Alecia,” I reply.

“Oh, there are things,” Jules replies smugly. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

I frown, but before I can reply, Natalie says, “And we know you’ve asked her out.”

“Which she’s declined,” I reply.

“So?”

Why doesn’t everyone understand that no means no?

“I was taught to politely retreat when a lady says no,” I say and sip my wine.

“But you only asked her out for, what, dinner?” Jules asks, clearly confused.

“Yes, I believe I asked her to dinner. Three times.” I cringe and shake my head. “A man can only take so much rejection from one woman.”

“But what else did you do?” Natalie asks.

I pause and frown at her. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do to show her that it wasn’t just a matter of wanting to get in her pants?”

What am I missing?

“Dinner doesn’t necessarily mean get in her pants.”

“Sure it does,” Jules says with a wave of her hand.

“For example,” Natalie continues, “back in the day, Luke would have my coffee delivered to me. He still does sometimes.”