“I’m going on vacation, Dad.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the end of August.”Besides, I’ve never celebrated futile one-month anniversaries with past boyfriends.
His shoulders lift quickly then fall even faster. “First, speak with Mr. Matson, assess the issue. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that.”
“Fix Steven’s problem?”
He slams his hand down on the countertop next to his hip. “This isourcompany, Gina.”
But you want me to marry a businessman, a man who can take away my position.“I’ll fix it before I leave for Italy.”
“You most certainly will. Call your mother; give her the address of where you’re going.”
He leaves the room. I continue turning in my chair. Should I ask Santino for his thoughts on Italy? Even as I play with my cell phone and toy with the idea, I wonder how serious he is about us. After all, we’re only one month strong.
That man can lay the pipe like nobody’s business. If he didn’t wrap me in his arms and cuddle with me afterward, I might be inclined to pull out my black card.
I text him a single word. ‘Italy.’ A silly smile captures my face.
15
Santino
Italy? Fuck yeah. I’ll take Gina to Italy.
I can imagine it now while stomping the dried cement off my steel-toe boots and getting into my truck. I’d started looking at tickets the other morning and wondering if I should hit The Pipeline, just for a few. Then I thought better of it. I make a good living. I told myself Gina would want to wait an appropriate amount of time before letting me whisk her off her feet.
I could tempt her with “Fiera Internazionale del Tartufo Bianco d’Alba” in October. Or be strategic and take her to the “Fair of Sant’Orso, Aosta Valley” in January. I could make the whole deal a late Christmas gift. The town is in Northwest Italy in the Western Alps. She’d love the snow-capped peaks and ski resorts. I’d then take her home.
“Santi!” Carlos calls out to me as I’m about to pull away from the curb. Damn, the fucking devil always knows when to strike. He strolls over, tossing his keys up and catching them in his hand. “You still busy with the rich girl?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ll be busy with her for the rest of my life.”
Rolling his eyes, Carlos walks to his Caprice that’s parked behind me.
I rub the cement powder from my jaw and FaceTime her. “Bella, pack your bags . . .”
There’s a smile on Gina’s face, yet it doesn’t reach her eyes. So I settle in the seat, deciding not to leave yet. “What’s wrong?”
“I was kidding, Santino. For about five seconds, I was considering it, though. Sorry if I got your hopes up.”
“C’mon, I was just about to drive off. Let me put you on hold for a second. I’ll search for plane tickets. My treat.”
“No, I asked, Santi.”
“No, no. I got this. You good with riding coach?”
“Santino, I’m not that rotten.” Gina’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears, and she offers her first genuine grin. “Santa, although it’s been a while since I flew coach. Hmmm, if you promise we’re joining the mile-high club, you have a deal.”
Captivated by the sight of Gina’s gorgeous face, I guess I don’t answer fast enough.
Her plush lips pull down at the corners. “Hey, are you a member of that daggon club?”
“Haven’t joined the mile-high club.”
“Sure.” She rolls those pretty brown eyes.