Page 62 of The Billionaire Love Match

“I’m usually here at least once a week. I grew up coming here with my family. It was my father’s favorite.”

Was. She wanted to ask, but wanted to get all the ordering and everything out of the way first.

“Want to order for me?”

“You’ll have to help me out a bit. What do you like? And hate?”

Casey laughed. “I like to eat. And I haven’t eaten in like two weeks. The only thing I really don’t like is pickles, so I think anything is good.”

“Why haven’t you eaten? Don’t they have food in the house?”

Casey looked down at the table, not wanting to reveal too much. Like how she hardly left her bedroom in the mansion, wanting to avoid being on the live feed and having to talk to anyone other than Tessa. “We weren’t going to talk about the show, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

Sarah returned with a tray. She placed a basket of warm bread, a small bowl of olives and garlic, and another bowl with olive oil and spices on the table. She uncorked the bottle of wine. Colt didn’t do the whole fancy thing of examining the wine label and tasting the first glass. Sarah just poured for them.

“This looks amazing,” Casey said, grabbing a piece of warm bread.

“Ready, polpetto?” Sarah asked.

“What does ‘polpetto’ mean?” Casey asked.

Sarah laughed and Colt made a face. “Meatball,” she said.

Casey stared between them. “Meatball?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Colt said. “Apparently. And an upgrade. She used to call me patatino, which means little potato.”

Casey giggled. “Can I steal those, Sarah? Meatball has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t even, Boots,” Colt said, pointing a finger at her. Then, he handed their menus to Sarah. “We’ll do lasagne, alfredo, and the gnocchi pesto. Family style.”

Casey laughed. “I’m not that hungry.”

Colt smiled. “You said you hadn’t eaten in two weeks. Plus I want you to try all my favorites. And they’re best dishes on the menu. Too hard to choose between them.”

“Salads?” Sarah asked.

“Caesar,” Casey said. Colt ordered the same and Sarah went back to the kitchen, flashing another smile as she went. Casey had to take her hand back to spoon olives and garlic.

“So, my little meatball.”

Colt grinned. “It’s just meatball. Or little potato. Definitely not little meatball.”

“I don’t know. I like little meatball. You like garlic?” she had a slice of crusty bread with olives and garlic halfway to her mouth.

“Love it.”

“Good,” she said, taking a big bite. “Because I definitely plan on kissing you later. This is...mmm. So, clearly this place is special to you. Marco and Sarah—what’s their story?”

“Brother and sister. He owns the restaurant and she’s been working here since they both came over from Italy. His wife died a few years ago. Sarah had to leave her husband in Italy. It’s a long and sad story. Only happy because they’re happy and together here.”

“Wow. Tell me how you came to be so close,” she said. “You said it was your father’s favorite place?”

Colt swallowed and took a sip of wine. She could see him pulling back slightly and wished she could stop him. The last thing she wanted tonight was the mask he sometimes wore.

“He met Marco—I don’t even know how, actually. He just knew him as long as I can remember. We’d come every Thursday.”

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