For Angelo(14)

Appalled at the thought that she had somehow hurt him, she scrambled to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Angelo. If it means anything, I was jealous, too. Extremely jealous,” she said feelingly. “You even made me feel depressed—”

“Is that true?”

“Yes,” she said fervently.

“But you could have dated other men to forget me—”

“No,” she denied right away. “That’s not possible.”

“Because I’m the only man for you?”

“Oh, yes—” She stopped. Wait a minute. Something wasn’t right here. Her gaze narrowed at his face, and Angelo gazed back at her innocently.

Yeah right!

“You were faking the entire time,” she cried out.

His teeth flashed in a grin, and then he was laughing.

“Sadist!” But his smile was so beautiful and infectious it was impossible not to laugh with him.

“That’s what I am,” he agreed easily.

“I knew it!” Her lips pursed in mock disappointment. “I had a feeling about you, from the very start.”

“I’m glad.”

She blinked at the unexpected answer. Huh?

“Because I also knew you’re a masochist.” His tone was light, but his gaze was watchful and serious.

She forced herself to laugh, saying, “Sure, you did.”

He said agreeably, “From the very start.”





Chapter Five





Some girls talked a mile a minute to cover their awkwardness, and Lane wished she could be like them. Unfortunately, she wasn’t, and all she could do was walk beside Angelo in uneasy silence and concentrate on not tripping over her feet…or tongue.

Sadist. Masochist.

Just thinking of the words made her head hurt. If only he was joking. But he was not. She had seen the look in Angelo Valencia’s gaze, and she knew he believed he was…that, and she was…the other.

Sadist. Masochist.

She swallowed back a sigh. I’ll never use big words again, she thought glumly. If she had just called him ‘unfair,’ then maybe it would have ended there, and there wouldn’t be this weird, tense atmosphere—

“Lane—”

She practically jumped in shock, not expecting him to suddenly talk, and he frowned. “Are you okay?” She cleared her throat. “Yup.” As okay as one would be, after finding out the guy she had been crushing on apparently believed she was the type of person who got off being hurt.

And that was not true, she told herself. Not. True.

But a tiny part of her was not convinced, and this was what worried Lane the most.

To distract herself and to keep him from talking about things she didn’t want to know about, she pointed towards the intersection, saying unnecessarily, “We just cross the street, and that’s where Millie’s is.” When Angelo only nodded, she relaxed slightly, and they crossed the street in somewhat comfortable silence.

“Here it is,” she said as they reached the diner.

“It looks wonderfully quaint.” Angelo considered it thoughtfully, remembering that this was where she had waited for him that first day. And he hadn’t shown up, he thought grimly, because of that boy.

Noticing the grim look on his face, she asked worriedly, “Are you really sure this is okay?”

Realizing she must have misinterpreted his mood, he told her, “This place is good as any.” At her unconvinced look, he said gently, “I’m no snob, tesoro.” And not giving her time to answer, he pushed the door open for her, murmuring politely, “Shall we?”

“You remind me of Ray,” he heard her mumble as she stepped past him.

“I see. Is he your brother?”

“Oh, no. We’re not blood related.”

His lips compressed. He wanted to ask who the hell Ray was, but pride forbade him to utter a word about it.

“Ray’s my—”

A waitress cut her off, calling out to Lane cheerfully, and Angelo wanted to cheerfully strangle the other woman for her ill timing. Just when he was about to find out who Ray was, he thought broodingly.

“I thought you were flying back home,” the waitress was exclaiming as she led them to the only vacant booth left.

“Yeah, well…” Lane slid inside one side of the booth but stayed at the outer edge so Angelo would have no choice but to sit opposite her.

Angelo raised a brow at the seating arrangement.

Lane pretended not to notice.

A moment later, Angelo took his seat across her, and Lane relaxed.

Gretchen, the waitress, was looking at them with interest.

“Black coffee for me, please,” Angelo supplied.

“One extra large vanilla milkshake and fries for me, Gretch,” she said quickly, and hoping to forestall any awkward questions, she pretended to frown, saying, “I think someone’s calling you—”

“Oh, let someone else take care of it.” Gretchen grinned. “You’re more interesting. I never imagined you’d have a thing for sexy Italians.”

Lane gasped, “Gretch!”

The older woman winked at Angelo. “Who might you be?”

She watched Angelo introduce himself, impressing Gretchen and the other women in the diner, who were all openly eavesdropping on them.