wear a coat, and her dress showcased some nice curves as she moved surprisingly fast in the heels she wore on her feet. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky for what might have been a heartbeat if not for the fact that his heart literally skipped a beat.
His eyes continued to track the mystery woman’s path to her vehicle. She opened the driver’s side of a light-colored compact car and ducked inside, setting the pizza box on the empty passenger seat before closing the door, extinguishing the interior light.
He’d barely caught a glimpse of her, yet he felt an ache beneath his breastbone, a yearning that suggested she might be the one. Finally.
The initial sense of jubilant relief was supplanted by frustration as he watched her taillights disappear in the night.
He might have finally found her—but he didn’t have the first clue as to who she was or when and where he might see her again.
* * *
When Marco entered the restaurant through the same take-out door a few minutes later, he found his sister-in-law, Gemma, behind the counter.
Usually a hostess in the dining rooms, Gemma was happy to fill in wherever she was needed. And since their cousin Maria was currently on an extended holiday/honeymoon with her new husband—because it wasn’t just his siblings but also his cousins who were happily pairing up—they were short-staffed at the take-out counter.
Gemma glanced up when she heard the bell over the door and smiled at him. “What are you doing in here on a Saturday night?”
“Renata says the baby wants tiramisu,” he told her.
“She couldn’t even stand the scent of coffee when she was pregnant with Adrianna and Isabella,” Gemma noted. “Makes me think Nonna is correct in her prediction that this one’s a boy.”
“Well, she does have a fifty percent chance of being right.”
“She predicted that both Adrianna and Isabella would be girls,” Gemma reminded him. “And that Christian and Dominic would be boys.”
“She also predicted that you and Tony would have half a dozen babies.”
His sister-in-law laughed. “Well, I can promise you that’s not happening.”
“But speaking of Nonna’s predictions,” Marco said, “did you notice the woman who walked out that door?”
“Lots of women walk out that door. And sometimes they come in. Sometimes men, too.”
He rolled his eyes. “I was referring to the last customer who left with a pizza box in her hands.”
“You mean Jordyn Garrett?”
“You know her?”
“Yeah—she’s Rachel’s husband’s cousin.”
Rachel Ellis—now Garrett—had been a friend of Gemma’s since high school, and Rachel and her husband, Andrew, were regular customers at Valentino’s, along with Maura, Andrew’s daughter from his first marriage. The previous November, they’d added another daughter, Lily, to their family.
“What else do you know about her?” he asked.
“I know that she left her phone on the counter,” Gemma said, glancing at the slim case on the ledge in front of the cash register.
“How do you know it’s hers?”
“Because I saw her set it down when she got out her wallet to pay for the pizza.”
The device hummed quietly, a light in the corner blinking.
“Maybe you should answer that,” she suggested.
“Why me?”
“Because I’m going to the kitchen to get the tiramisu for Nata.”
“Throw in a couple of cannoli for the girls,” he suggested.
“Of course,” she agreed, already moving past the pizza ovens and slipping through the door to the main kitchen.
Leaving him alone with Jordyn’s phone and its blinking light.
He touched the screen, expecting to see a password request, which would, of course, prevent him from accessing anything on her phone. But there was no password protection—the screen immediately illuminated to reveal the recent communication to the phone’s owner—assumed to be Jordyn—from someone identified at the top of the screen as Tristyn.
12 med wings would go good with the pizza and wine :)
He stepped behind the counter and peeked through the window into the take-out kitchen.
“Hey, Rafe—how long would it take for a dozen wings?”
“Ten minutes,” his cousin said, already with tongs in hand to count them out and toss them into the fryer basket. “You want ’em extra hot?”
“Medium,” he said. He figured it wouldn’t take Jordyn long to realize she’d left her phone behind, and when she came back for it, hopefully the wings would be ready for her.
“Your taste buds getting soft in your old age?” Rafe teased, dropping the basket into the hot oil.
“They’re not for me.”
He returned his attention to her phone—feeling a little like the prince left at the ball with no clue to Cinderella’s identity except a single glass slipper. The phone wasn’t nearly as sexy as a shoe, but at least it was something.
The bell over the door rang and he glanced up to greet the new customer, but the words died in his throat when she walked in. Obviously it had taken less time than he’d anticipated for Jordyn to realize she’d left her phone—the phone that was currently in his hand.
In the bright light of the take-out area, he could see her clearly now: smooth, creamy skin; a delicate heart-shaped face; and short, dark hair dripping with rain. Her eyes were dark green and framed by thick, long lashes.
He’d thought the dress she wore was black, but he could see now that it was a deep shade of purple. But he’d been right about her curves—the sleeveless sheath style hugged her feminine shape in all the right places. The wedge heels on her feet made it difficult to accurately estimate her height, but he guessed that she was about five feet five inches tall.
Her fingernails were neatly trimmed and unpolished, her makeup subtle. Earrings dangled from her ears, colorful purple and silver beads on different lengths of chain jingled as she moved, suggesting a playful side that contrasted with the simple dress and no-fuss hairstyle.
She was simply and spectacularly beautiful, and in that moment, the possibility that had been teasing the back of his mind—and nudging at his heart—since that first quick glimpse through the rain became a certainty.
“Nonna’s going to love hearing that she was right.”
Neatly arched brows drew together. “I beg your pardon?”
He
