Page 6 of Tessa's Trust

We ambled up to the bar. He ordered a lager stout while I requested a glass of prosecco. I wanted to tell the bartender to leave the bottle, but I figured that probably wasn’t proper, though proper was quickly fleeing.

A rustle sounded by the door, and I turned, my heart stopping. “Nonna, what are you doing here?” I hurried toward her just as I noticed Gerty Basanelli behind her. My heart started to sink into the pit of my stomach. No. What were they doing?

“Hello,” Nonna said, walking the rest of the way inside and unwrapping her scarf. “I heard there was speed dating going on here.”

“Yes, Nonna, but you’re married. Happily, I might add,” I said dryly. What was the woman up to now?

Gerty giggled next to her. Whereas my nonna was tall with dark hair tinged with gray, Gerty was a tiny little thing with curled white hair and a button nose. They were an odd couple but the best of friends.

“Why are you two here?” I asked again.

The door opened, and everything became all too clear. Nick Basanelli walked in, wiping snow off his broad shoulders. “Grams?” he asked. “Where’s your car? You said you had a flat.”

Heat flared in my face, and honestly, if the proverbial floor could open, I would dive in headfirst.

His gaze caught mine and then flicked to Bobbo before returning full force to me, his eyes bourbon brown, piercing, and intelligent. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, there you are.” Sally Franks hustled up from a table I hadn’t noticed near the door. She pressed a sticker to Nick’s chest. “We’re so happy to have you here. I sent out a call that you’d be at the tables, and we’re having the best turnout ever.” She patted the sticker and hummed happily. Sally was recently divorced, around forty, and rumored to be looking for a new man.

Nick took a step away from her, looked down at the name tag, at his grandma, at me, and then back to Gerty. “What is going on? You said you had a flat tire.”

“Oh, that.” Gerty waved it away. “I had that taken care of, but I thought you should try this speed dating. I didn’t want Tessa to have to do it alone.”

His gaze flicked to me again. Nick Basanelli was well over six feet of raw Italian muscle. He was sleek and strong, one of the smartest people I’d ever known, and more ambitious than a wide receiver ten yards from goal. His hair was black, his eyes a tawny brown, and his bone structure all Italian. In other words, he was fucking gorgeous, and the guy probably knew it.

“You’re speed dating?” he asked.

I lifted a shoulder.

“Yes, and she’s not alone,” Bobbo said, dropping a beefy arm over my shoulders.

I staggered under the sudden weight, tightening my hold on my champagne glass.

Nick cocked his head. I couldn’t really think of a good explanation, so I didn’t say anything. Sometimes, that was the best move. Nick leaned toward his grandmother. “Grams, I’m not speed dating.”

“The heck you aren’t,” she said. “I called earlier with a credit card. I paid your fifty dollars. You wouldn’t disappoint your grandma, would you?”

I couldn’t help the smile twitching my lips. At least I wasn’t alone in this. Plus, considering he’d had me arrested for murder late last year, I was ready for some payback.

Chapter 3

Narrow tables were bracketed by an orange leather bench running the length of the far wall, opposite well-crafted wooden chairs. Apparently, the women were to sit on the luxurious bench, and the men would take the chairs and then move every ten minutes. I liked that idea, so I settled in with my glass of Prosecco and snuggled my butt against the plush leather.

Bobbo spilled out of the chair across from me. He tugged on an overall strap. “Is there something going on between you and Nick Basanelli?”

I cast a guilty look down the long rows of tables to see Nick seated across from Sally. Huh. I wondered how she’d managed that. The woman was preening and twirling a lock of her bottle-blond hair.

“No,” I said shortly. “Our grandmothers have been trying to fix us up since before the holidays, but there is definitely nothing going on between Nick Basanelli and me.”

I’d go to the grave before admitting I found him intriguing, but I was female, and I had a pulse, so it probably wouldn’t shock anybody. We didn’t fit, and there was no question about that. He’d been a football stud in high school. He’d gone on to play in college before becoming a hero in the military, and now, he was a prosecuting attorney. I had no doubt that his future held higher offices, whereas I was a small-town girl who worked in a diner. It was sweet that our grandmas thought we’d make a good match, but we didn’t.

“Hey,” Bobbo said. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry. I was in my head.”

That was rare. Usually, Anna was in her head, and I was the one drawing her out, but Nick Basanelli did that to me, and that was just life. “So, tell me about your farm.” I focused on my three-minute date.

“Oh.” Bobbo leaned forward. “I own thirty head, a bunch of chickens, and now have diversified into raising alpacas.”

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