Page 2 of Second Chance Daddy
He’s three tables away now. Two. One.
And then he’s right there, sliding into the booth across from us like he belongs, and I swear to God, the man smells like danger and expensive cologne.
“Tina,” he says, his voice deeper than I remember. Rougher. Like whiskey and sin had a baby.
“Dante!” She jumps up to hug him. “When did you get back?”
“This morning.” Those dark eyes flick to me. “Cassie.”
He remembers my name. Of course, he remembers my name. Stop being weird about it.
“Hey,” I manage, proud that I sound almost normal instead of like I’m choking on my tongue.
He slides in next to Tina, directly across from me, and suddenly this booth feels very, very small.
I’m in trouble.
“Heard you moved back to town,” he says, and there’s something in his voice I can’t quite place.
“News travels fast around here.”
“Good news does.” He leans back, and the movement makes his shirt pull tight across his chest. “Bad news travels faster.”
Is he flirting? He’s flirting. No, he’s not. Yes, he is. God, I’m an idiot.
“Which category do I fall into?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
His mouth curves into a smile that should be illegal in at least forty-seven states.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Tina slides another basket of poppers toward me, completely oblivious to the fact that her brother is currently eye-fucking her best friend across the table.
“You heard from Gino about when he’ll sign the papers?” she asks.
“Still waiting,” I manage, downing my drink because I need the liquid courage. “He likes to take his sweet time.”
Dante’s jaw tightens. “Is he giving you trouble?”
The protectiveness in his voice does things to me that should probably be illegal.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I lie.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Oh. OH. He’s serious. Like, really serious.
“Scared he’ll find you here?” Tina pours me another glass, completely missing the tension crackling between her brother and me.
“Hope not. My life’s here now.” What’s left of it, anyway. “I can’t move again.”
Dante leans forward, elbows on the table. “He won’t touch you here.”
The certainty in his voice makes my stomach flip. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I said so.”
And there it is. That Romano confidence that used to make my teenage heart flutter. Except now I’m not a teenager, and it’s not just my heart that’s reacting.
