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Nia smiles. “I see you took my wardrobe suggestions to heart. White shirt, black pants, black loafers. Perfect. Let’s go.”
When she takes my hand, I drag my feet. “Where are we going?”
“That’s not how this works. You surprised me on Tuesday night. Now it’s my turn.” She tugs again.
I still resist. “Are we doing anything that’s going to embarrass me in public?”
Why else would she have me dress so specifically if she didn’t want me to show off somehow?
“You’ll be in public. Embarrassment is relative since some people find most human contact uncomfortable.”
She means me. And she’s poking.
I scowl. “You’re not answering my question.”
“Just keeping a little mystery. Let’s go or we’re going to be late.”
When I help her into my car and slide behind the wheel, I slant a stare her way. “Where to?”
Nia smiles as she fiddles with the radio. “You’re not the only one with tricks up their sleeve. I’ll give you directions. Head north on I-5 for now.”
As she searches for a station, something slightly familiar hits my eardrums. She stops there with a little smile. “My grandmother used to love the Beach Boys. I remember listening with her when I was really little.”
Then she falls silent, lost in her memories. I focus on the old tune. I don’t remember the sleigh bells, and it seems funny on a non-Christmas carol? But okay…
That quirkiness aside, the opening lines resonate with me. I may not love Nia, but she should never doubt my sincerity. I will do whatever it takes to make her sure of us, of the fact I’ll make her happy. Then the male vocalist croons with a plaintive tone something I should probably be asking myself when it comes to my lovely assistant-turned-girlfriend. Because really, God only knows what I’d be without her. Lost at work and home. Lost professionally and personally.
I can’t let her go.
Twenty minutes of her meticulous navigation and a few more classic tunes later, we arrive. I’m not exactly sure why we’re at an older strip mall in an unfamiliar but established neighborhood. The second I help her out of the car, she takes my hand in hers and drags me to an Italian place tucked away in the corner.
Once we’re inside, it’s obviously a casual, family-owned place. Nia catches sight of an older man, who suddenly beams. “Bella!”
“Hi, Lorenzo. I couldn’t let another week go by without seeing my favorite chef.”
The man is fifty-five if he’s a day, and she still manages to make him blush as he comes forward and wraps her in a big bear hug. “Bah. It’s not me you love; it’s my pizza.”
“Can’t I love you both?”
He laughs and wags a finger at her. “Mateo is still single. I give you all the pizza if you marry him.”
“Sorry. I can’t do it, not even for that.”
Lorenzo tosses his hands in the air. “I’ll beat sense into him, make the man-whore settle down.”
Suddenly, a broad woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense expression bustles into the room. “Don’t you think I’ve tried? That son of ours…” She shakes her head and asks before giving Nia a hug. “Oh, bambina. Good to see you.”
“Hi, Guilia. Good to see you, too. This is my…new boyfriend, Evan.”
She frowns. “Same name as your boss?”
“Same man as my boss,” she admits wryly.
“Evan Cook,” I hold out my hand, fascinated by her closeness with the Italian couple.
“Nice to meet you. Be good to our girl or I’ll find a way to marry her off to my son.”
They treat it like a running joke, but I think they’re at least half-serious. “Not if I marry her first. I’ve already asked, by the way.”
