When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(14)

He said something to her in Italian, and she replied with something that made him frown even more.

When he grunted, Francesca turned to Brooke and tried to smile. “Thanks for keeping me from getting hurt.”

Brooke tried not to laugh. “You’re welcome.”

The girl started to run again.

“Walk!” the father yelled.

They watched Francesca as she inched her steps to exaggerated slowness as if mocking her father.

Francesca turned back around.

Dad wasn’t nearly as amused.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“It’s okay. I’m glad she wasn’t hurt.”

He looked beyond Brooke, at his daughter . . . a flicker of annoyance.

“She’s adorable, by the way.”

That, at least, brought a smile to the man’s face. And the oxygen that was in the room had a hard time finding Brooke’s lungs. Her guess was this man could use that smile and his chiseled jaw and dark skin to get just about anything he wanted from a woman. Toss in a little amore this and amore that . . .

What was she thinking? He was probably married.

Hello . . . he had a daughter.

Family restaurant with a little girl running around that the employees called Franny.

“Thank you. I appreciate your intervention.”

His voice melted her insides like heat to chocolate.

Brooke stared at the man and found herself thinking about all the works of art scattered throughout Italy. No wonder so many men were etched in marble and stone. If all Italians looked like this man . . .

He cleared his throat.

She closed her eyes, felt heat in her cheeks. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

He nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

Only his feet didn’t move.

His smile softened when she dared another look in his eyes.

“Right. Uhm . . .”

Did he just laugh?

Brooke shook her head as she walked away. The heat on her back suggested the man watched her retreat.

She and Carmen spent two hours with their meal, and when the check came it had a zero written on it and the word Grazie.

They argued, but the waiter wouldn’t hear it. Brooke had kept Franny from unknown injury, and that was worth a free meal for this restaurant.

With nothing to do but say thank you, that was exactly what they did.

“Are you ready to start looking for apartments?” Carmen asked.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

Brooke looked over her shoulder at the establishment they’d just left. Was she?





CHAPTER FIVE


“Today was better. Finally, things are looking up.”

Luca glanced at his mother from the other side of the table. It wasn’t often they shared a meal with receipts of the day between them, but business had been in a tailspin for what felt like forever. Between restrictions that were implemented off and on for years, and employee shortages, it was only recently that things were getting consistently normal.

“What’s this?” Mari held a receipt in her hand.

Luca narrowed his gaze, saw his signature for the comped meal.

He thought of the kind eyes behind her smile.

Silence stretched for a moment too long, he caught it, cleared his throat. “Your granddaughter thought it best to run through the kitchen during the height of lunch. This patron intercepted and kept everyone from unnecessary trips to an urgent care.”

“Hmm.” His mother stared over the receipt as if reading his mind. “Was she pretty, this patron?”

Luca turned his attention back to the inventory sheet to avoid his mother’s eyes. “I don’t believe I said it was a woman.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Mama. Stop.”

She put the paper to the side. “What? A mother can’t ask her handsome single son about a pretty girl?”

“Why don’t you put that energy into schooling your granddaughter to not use the kitchen as a playground?”

Mari clicked her tongue as she did anytime she was dismissing someone’s suggestion. “Poor child needs siblings. Her playmates are the employees. It’s wrong.”

Much as Luca wanted to disagree, he couldn’t. But he wasn’t about to give Franny a brother or a sister without the required mother to go with it. And that was too much effort.

Luca finished his notes on the inventory and pushed the paperwork aside. He reached for the bread and broke off a generous piece. “Maybe tomorrow you can take Franny to the park.”

“Maybe.”

Giovanni made his way to the back of the restaurant where they were sitting and tossed his apron on a chair. “We need to hire more waiters.”

Luca moaned.

Mari clicked her tongue.

Chloe came in with Franny at her side.

How had his daughter gotten so big? “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked with a smile.

Franny took his grin as an invitation and ran to him and jumped in his lap.

“What did I say about running in the restaurant?”

“No one is here,” she argued.

“She has a point,” Gio said, reaching for the lobster ravioli Luca had prepared for the daily special. It was their mother’s recipe, but she didn’t spend as many hours behind the stove as he did. Not when Francesca needed supervision.