“She is pretty, bud.”
The little boy’s mouth fell open at his uncle’s betrayal. With a serious pout,he wiped hissmallhandscovered in pumpkin gutsdown the front of Luca’s shirt.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the pride shining on his angelic face. Luca tried to look angry, but his smile gave him away.
“Sasha, this little troublemaker is my nephew, Dante. Dante, this is my girlfriend, Sasha.” Luca stood up, shaking pumpkin guts off his hand onto the newspaper. “I’m going to grab a fresh shirt.”
On his way out of the room, he placed a kiss on my cheek. “Sorry, Adriana had to go out last minute. She should be back soon.”
Shaking my head, I looked at the adorable little surprise. “No problem. Kids aren’t the worst.” I gave Luca a peck on the lips and swat on the ass. He chuckled on his way upstairs.
Approaching the table with a certain amount of caution, I took the seat farthest away from the pumpkin massacre.
“Dante, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I stuck my hand out and wrapped his tiny fingers around it. Tworespectablepumps, then he flipped our hands over, placing a little kiss on my knuckles.
“Well, now. Aren’t you a charmer? How old are you? Eighteen?”
Dante’s face lit up, his smile showcasing a couple of missing teeth. “No, I’m six, almost seven.”
“Where did you learn to be so suave?”
He frowned. “What’s suave?”
Leaning in, I smiled. “It means charming. Did your uncle teach you the hand kiss thing?”
“Oh,no! It’s what princes do when they meet princesses.”
“That’s very gallant, Dante.”
He shook his head.
“Chivalrous?”
Another headshake.
“Polite towards women?”
He nodded. “My mom says manners are important.”
“Your mom’s a smart woman.” Turning toward the pumpkin, I gestured to the mess. “What are you guys going to carve? A goofy face?”
Dante shook his head, his hands shuffling through some notebook paper. When he got to the last page, he held it up. “I want it to be a vampire’s face. Uncle Luca said we could use paint for blood.”
“That sounds pretty cool.”
“Yep. Then we’regonnabake the seeds and eat them. My uncle is the best cook.”
As if on cue, Luca walked into the kitchen. “Did I hear my name?”
“Dante here was just telling me about the sweet pumpkin plans you have. How can I help?”
Luca’s eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. “You want to carve pumpkins?”
“Duh. I can make a template and help with the blood. I am an artist,after all.”
“You are?” Dante’s sweet voice was right next to me. He’d scooched over a chair.
“I am! I can paint, draw, and I even do a little photography.”