Page 69 of Caught Stealing

She laughs an airy, breathy laugh but it holds more emotion than it lets on. “You make it really hard for a girl to resist you, do you know that? I’m lucky I snagged you when you were looking for love.”

“Uh, I think I’m the lucky one. I entered the dating scene with hesitation and mild frustration, and God sent me you. You’re just the ray of sunshine I needed in my life.”

“And you’re just the right amount of possessive a girl needs.”

I can’t help laughing because I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. “I’m sure that’s a compliment somehow, but I’m not sure.”

She giggles now and runs her hands up my arms to settle behind my neck again. “It means that I know I’m yours and no other woman is going to turn your eye. It means I can count on you like tonight when you zoomed over here to check on me. More than anything, it means I can relax and know I don’t have to work so hard to make things work. They just work with us.”

I wince a little, knowing there will be times that it doesn’t seem so easy. “I mean, I am a little grouchy sometimes. It’s not always going to be so peachy.”

“I know but I guess I also know that even when we’re not on the same page, we’re still in the same book. And maybe this is cheesy, but our book is classic, Andrew.”

“How so?”

“Puh-lease, Mr. Darcy’s got nothing on you.”

“Somehow I doubt that. That man has convinced entire generations of women to fall for the misunderstood grump.” She arches an eyebrow and smiles. “I’m not that grumpy. I have not insulted your intelligence or income level in the process of proposing, now have I?”

“Well, no. I guess you’re right about that, but I’ll take Mr. Rossi over Mr. Darcy any day. Something tells me the latter wouldn’t willingly get dunked by kids all day long.”

I press a kiss to her forehead and breathe her in. “You smell so good. Like my grandma.”

“I…smell…like your grandma?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from my chest and I pick her up, sling her over my good shoulder, and march into her living room with her. She squeals and wiggles while Ginger nips at my heels. When I toss her onto the sofa, Ginger barks and bends herself in half trying to play. I land on the sofa beside Lottie and pull her legs over mine, dragging her closer so I can kiss her.

“Hold on there. You can’t just say I smell like your grandmother and then kiss me.”

I grumble again. “I didn’t mean it that way. She always wears rose scented perfume, and smelling it again brings up so many good memories of summers spent at her house with my sister and our cousins. Makes me think of pie right out of the oven and her sneaking us candy behind my mom’s back. It even makes me think of my grandfather who got me into baseball.” I wrap an arm around her and kiss the top of her head. “You smell like home, Lottie, and you make my heart happy.”

She tips her head back to look up at me. “You make me happy too. I think I’m going to fall in love with you.” She presses her hands to my cheeks and my gaze drops to her neck. Her pulse races. She’s scared.

“When you do, just know I’ll never let you go. I intend to fall in love with you, too.”

I lean down and kiss her, letting visions of my future flash in my mind.

Epilogue

Charlotte

Six Months Later

“Are you sure we’re not invading her personal space?” I glance around the attic in Andrew’s grandmother’s home in upstate South Carolina. It’s a treasure trove of memories with the stacks of boxes filled with toys, antique furniture sprawled about, and old photographs pinned to the walls.

“Not at all. She’s been asking me to clean this out for a long time.” He’s shuffling around in a far corner with his back to me. “Aha! Found it.”

“Found what?” I laugh at how childlike he’s become since the second we set foot on his Nonnie’s property. Nonnie, who has instructed me to call her the same, has already taught me how to make all of Andrew’s favorite foods as well as given me introductory lessons in Italian. It’s a beautiful language, but I’m butchering it to death.

“Come on downstairs and I’ll show you.” He wiggles his eyebrows and carries a shoebox in one hand while offering me the other. Together, we descend the rickety old staircase back down to the second story. Our dogs are lounging in a guest bedroom, soaking up the sun while everyone else is downstairs chatting.

I have been invited to the annual Rossi family Thanksgiving, along with my sister’s family and my parents. They wanted it to be a big bash, and it has surely been a grand time. Andrew’s big Italian family has accepted us all in as their own.

“Nonnie, I found it!” Andrew says and hands her the shoebox. She’s soaking up some sun of her own, rocking in a chair by a bay window. On the ledge, well used herbs grow between marigolds and daisies. It’s such a cute little window, and beside the rocker is a side table stacked with books his grandmother reads and rereads because they are her favorites.

“Oh.” Nonnie clasps her hands and smiles before opening the box. She pulls out a delicate lace handkerchief and spreads it across her lap. It’s in amazing condition, all things considered, but it’s the way she lovingly caresses it that brings a tear to my eyes. “This was my mother’s. It was a present from her mother on her wedding day, and then she passed it down to me. I lent it to Andrew’s mother when she married my son, and now, I pray my sweet Lottie, it can be yours.”

She cradles the delicate treasure in her wrinkled palms and offers it to me. “You…what?” My voice cracks both from sheer shock and complete humility. The idea that she would want me to have this family treasure is…wait a minute…I’m not even engaged.

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