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“On the house.”
“Thanks. I’ll send over some dinner.”
Mike perks up. “Now that you mention it . . . did you bring your chicken marsala, by any chance? Sorry, Tris.”
Awkward.
“No need for apologies.”
Tris and I exchange a glance as I gather the remaining beers.
“We did. I’ll send it over. Thanks again, Mike.”
As we make our way back, it’s hard not to notice the looks we’re getting.
“I guess we’re not wasting any time on our plan,” I mutter.
Actually, most of the looks aren’t directed at us, but at him. Even before Enzo DeLuca became a household name, all three of the brothers attracted their fair share of attention. Talk about a gene pool. And his sister is stunning too.
“Listen, we don’t have to do this. Gian can be persuasive, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten myself into trouble listening to him.”
Static from the stage mic comes through the speakers. Wincing, I turn to see the mayor of Bridgewater taking the stage. We both stop to listen as she welcomes the crowd and introduces a popular singer from Philly known for his renditions of Sinatra and the Rat Pack.
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, juggling five beers between us, we look at each other. I have no idea what Tris is thinking, but my own thoughts vacillate fromstop this madness nowtocan I please just jump your bones tonight?
Quite a range.
“Does he know marketing?” I ask, trying to think of what my father might say. A consummate businessman, that’s the question I think he would ask. “Your brother, Gian?”
“My brother could sell a brothel to a nun.”
The image of it makes me laugh. “That would be . . . something else.”
“Seriously, though.” He moves to the side, away from the growing crowd of people. “I couldn’t have opened DeLuca’s II without him. Or at least, I’m not sure if I would have been as successful.” He opens his mouth, and then closes it. “Sorry, I mean . . .”
“It’s ok. Listen,” I say. “We have to get one thing straight. We own competing restaurants. It is what it is.”
“Maybe we just don’t talk about that.”
“Our restaurants?” The more I think about the idea, the more I like it.
“We acknowledge it’s awkward and just avoid the topic. A few well-placed outings . . .”
I look around, and even now I can feel eyes on us.
“. . . and some About Town mentions won’t be the worst thing in the world. We just don’t talk shop. Between the pizza shop, Enzo’s business and now the restaurant, that’s all my family talks about. This will be good.”
“Exactly.” Excitement bubbles inside me. “I’ve eaten and slept the car dealership and Leoni’s for most of my childhood. Since Dad—” My chest constricts. “Since Dad passed away, the restaurant has been my life. I could use a change of pace.”
“It’s a solid plan. No business.”
“No business.” I think of Jay. “Not that I have a ton of time outside of work. But I’m sure you understand.”
“I understand well.”
Which is actually kinda cool. “Then it’s a deal.”
Tris nods toward our tents. “Deal. And I should probably get back. My mother put me to work. I’ve been gone for longer than I intended.”
