“It’s him,” she whispers.
As if it could be anyone else. I start to walk up the stairs, but I don’t make it more than a couple of steps before Lisa tugs on my wrist, stopping me. Which is when she vaults ahead of me, racing up the stairs like it’s the first day of spring and our annuallet’s start runningphase, something that usually lasts no longer than four days before we decide to go get our nails done instead.
I start to follow her, but there’s an exchange of hushed voices at the top of the steps, and suddenly a very clear new scent is heading toward me. Masculine hotness, otherwise known as Enzo, makes his way down the stairs.
“Uh, hi,” I say. Because if I had any cool, it has long since burned away.
“I didn’t mean to break up the party.”
Did Enzo buy that new deep baritone voice with all his millions of dollars? I don’t remember him sounding quite so . . .
“It’s okay. Just a bit noisy up there. Lisa and I . . .” Are what? Spies? I have no good excuse to be down here. “. . . needed to talk privately.”
He takes another step down toward me. And although it’s still dark down here, my eyes have adjusted enough for me to see half of his face. And his eyes.
The glint in them has me waffling back toI think he’s flirting with me.
He nods toward the basement below us. “The downstairs is for private catering. Wanna see it?”
There’s a lot I’d like to see at the moment, but the catering room isn’t top on my list. Still, it will give us the chance to be alone together. For me to maybe figure out whether this is all in my head.
“Sure.”
Enzo takes another step until he’s directly next to me, so close our bodies nearly touch. The look he gives me practically sizzles, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s just wishful thinking. I have zero confidence in my ability to read him. The next thing I know, he’s on the step below me, flipping a switch and illuminating half of the room.
“It’s gorgeous.”
Sliding glass doors lead out to a dock ending in the lake. The interior isn’t fancy, but it’s very comfortable. Exactly the opposite of what you’d expect from a characterless catering room. Old-time black and white family photos line the walls, and some of the furniture looks like it belongs in a living room instead of a catering space.
“You should see the view.” He walks toward the glass doors, through the part of the space that’s still dark.
“Is there another light back here?” I ask, joining him.
“Yes, but you can’t see the lake very well when it’s on.”
We’re at ground level now, lights from the deck above illuminating just enough of the patio for me to imagine how stunning this spot will be in the summer. More lights dot the area round the lake, though fewer than there’ll be in a couple of months.
“How do you know?” I blurt before thinking better of it.
Enzo takes a sip of his beer. “Tris videoed me in for a tour when he bought the place.”
Or when Enzo bought it for him.
“He’s done an amazing job,” he continues.
I agree. “Will your dad miss him at the shop?”
Enzo sighs, and I catch myself staring at his profile. I may have crap taste in boyfriends, but I’ll give myself one thing. I know a good-looking man when I see one. All of the DeLuca boys are lady-killers, of course, but Enzo was always the one who held my eye . . .
“I’m sure he will. But things change. People grow up. Move on.”
“Are you talking about Tris, or yourself?”
He turns toward me, and my attention narrows further, focusing on him. The line of his nose, his dark brows, and those eyes.
“Both.”
The air crackles between us. This time, I know I’m not wrong. Friends do not look at each other like they’d prefer to be naked in bed together over socializing in an empty room of a restaurant.