Page 41 of Burning Caine

My cousin and I sat at a table along the outer wall. I’d spent the last ten minutes craning my neck every way to spot her. I would locate her table, ensure I was visible, then wait. If I was lucky, she would come to say hello. Those odds were not good, given how nervous she was. The next option would be to catch her eye and wave, to see what she would do. If all else failed, I would walk over on my own.

It was perfect. I would let her know I had worked through the day to repairNumber Veefor her. Ensure she was thinking of me. Above all, no flirting. At least, not obvious flirting.

I leaned past him to see the entrance again, and there she was. My heart stopped beating. It was a baby blue halter dress. Asymmetrical skirt, hitting at her knee. A pink pattern, maybe flowers. And her hair was down, falling past her shoulder blades. Its gentle wave reflected the light as though made of silk. It was as glorious as I’d imagined.

She slowed as she passed the paintings, modern interpretations of the Greek red-figure vase style. I would have guessed those would be her favorite decorations, given her passion for ancient art. Perfetto.

“What are you grinning at?” My cousin swiveled in his seat to follow my gaze. “Are you kidding me? We’re here to stalk that claims adjuster who was yelling at you yesterday?”

“Not stalk. Surprise.”

“How’d you know she’d be here?”

“She’s having dinner with her family. An uncle, but I don’t know how many others.”

The server leading her through the dining area stopped at a table with one man. One man not old enough to be an uncle. One attractive man. My heart dropped. Her face lit up when she saw him. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek. She laughed and sat with him.

Gianfranco turned back to me. “Doesn’t look like family to me.”

His hand on the table, hers on top of his. I kissed Sofia’s cheeks all the time, but I never held her hand like that. They sat back and smiled, chatting and laughing. She nudged his leg with hers.

I couldn’t rip my eyes from her. “She was on a date when I met her last weekend. Said she was never dating again.”

“Then why are you stalking her?”

“It must be a friend. A good friend.”

The server delivered our meals, a course at a time, and I watched as they received the same. She didn’t look around the restaurant, so she didn’t see me. Options one and two were a failure. Some other woman bought drinks for our table and I waved absently but didn’t approach her.

After an hour of little conversation, Gianfranco was finishing his second drink. “You’re the worst dinner date of all time.”

“I know.” Samantha’s date left the table, so I stood and smoothed my jacket. Time for option three.

I hurried to her table before the man returned, forcing a smile as I walked. It was a friend or a brother. It had to be. I stopped beside her chair.

“Ciao, Samantha.” It was short. And clipped.I must have sounded irritated. Perhaps I was.

Her face broke into a brilliant smile. “Antonio! Funny seeing you here!”

“Very funny.”

“On a date or out with friends?”

‘Waiting to see you’ was not an appropriate response. I gestured across the dining room to my table. “My cousin, Frank.”

Her smile faded in the awkward silence between us, and I pulled a chair over from the next table. I balanced on its edge, elbows on knees, leaning toward her. “And you? You look like you are having a good time. On a date?”

She paused, staring at me, then looking to where he had gone. All she said was “Um.”

What kind of answer was ‘Um?’

The crease deepened between her brows.“What are you doing?”

“I was working onNumber Veeall day today. I finished it for you. Other than the varnish, which is drying.”

“Thank you?”

“You were worried it wouldn’t be done on time.” I ran a hand through my hair and stared at the floor, my shoulders heaving. The irritation had left, replaced by desperation. “This is your uncle you are with?”