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Dario: Sunday works for me. Send me your address so I can pick you up.
My eyebrows fly up, and I shake my head as my fingers fly over my phone’s keyboard.
Eden: I’m not telling a perfect stranger where I live. I’ll meet you somewhere.
Dario: Six pm at Yukhaejang.
I’ve never heard of the place.
I quickly Google the name and see it’s a restaurant. Going back to my messenger app, I send Dario another text.
Eden: I’ll be there.
Dario: Just so there’s no misunderstanding, it’s a date.
I stare at the words, torn between feeling excited and worried.
A date with Dario La Rosa.
What am I doing?
Chapter 8
Dario
When I leave Starbucks, I glance up the street and see Eden walking right past the ballet company.
I stare at her for a moment before a whining sound draws my attention to my right. Seeing a dog with the leash tied to a fire hydrant, I walk closer.
I crouch in front of the dog and carefully pet her head. “I’m just going to assume you’re a girl,” I whisper as my palm brushes over her soft hair. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
She jumps up against me with her two front paws, drawing a chuckle from me.
I glance around as I rise to my feet, but when I take a step in the direction of my car, something twists in my gut, and I look at the dog again.
She’s staring at me with the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, making my heart melt on the spot.
“Keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to kidnap you,” I warn the dog as if she can understand me.
I look into the Starbucks through the window and wonder which of the patrons the dog belongs to.
Deciding to pet her until the owner shows up, I crouch down again and let the dog sniff my hand before I scratch a spot behind her ear.
“I should get a dog,” I tell her. I look at her fluffy, long ears and white and brown coat. “What breed are you?”
I begin to feel uncomfortable crouching for so long and rise to my full height again.
When fifteen minutes have passed with no sign of the owner, I begin to feel very annoyed.
Who leaves their dog out in the cold for so long?
And with no water.
A frown settles on my forehead as I glance down at the dog. “I’m seriously considering kidnapping you.”
Compared to shit the other heads of the Cosa Nostra have done, kidnapping a dog ranks low on shitty things to do.
I glance around the area and into the Starbucks, and when it doesn’t look like anyone is in a hurry to get back to the furry animal, I untie her leash and pick her up.
