Wildflower Wedding (9 page)

Trish's eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“What's wrong?”

“Maggie, I had no idea. I just did a review of his restaurant for the paper.”

“You sound like you're in a panic.”

“My pizza was burnt, and, well, let's just say I didn't slam them or anything but the write-up was, well, lukewarm at best.”

“Oh no. . . .”

“It comes out tomorrow morning. I don't suppose I could go out and buy up all of the papers in the city, could I?” She tried to joke, but her stomach was doing flip-flops.

“Was it that bad?”

Trish winced. “It certainly wasn't glowing. Oh, I feel terrible!”

“Hey, you were being honest. That's your job as a reporter.”

“I doubt if he'll see it that way.” Trish closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “Maggie, what should I do?”

“Maybe he'll take it better than you think. Or maybe he doesn't read the local paper.”

“Maybe . . . ,” Trish said in a small voice. “I guess I'll find out soon enough. What else do you know about him?”

“Not much, I'm afraid. His sister, Tessa, lived with her son, Reese, in the trailer park that Tristan and I recently bought. We're going to build starter homes on the site. I sold Tessa a little bungalow up in town.”

“Oh, well, thanks, Maggie. I hope he's not too angry. I'll let you know how he takes it. You might need to find me another tenant asap!” she added with a wince. After ending the conversation, Trish called for Digger. She gave the dog a sorrowful pat on the head and he seemed to sense something was wrong. He put his head in her lap and looked up as if trying to let her know things would be okay.

“Thanks, Dig. But I don't think your master is going to take this very well.” She sighed and felt a lump form in her throat. “You'd better get inside,” she said, and some of her newfound joy dampened. “Sometimes I just have some really rotten luck.”

Running on Empty

“U
NCLE TONY, CALM DOWN BEFORE YOU BLOW A GASKET.”

Tony slapped the newspaper against his leg. “Calm down? Did you read this review?”

Reese nodded. “It's not that bad.”

“Ha! Highly anticipated but lacking in service? Overbaked pizza? Out of the basics? Unprepared? How could this be worse?”

“You're taking that out of context. She says some good stuff too.”

Tony snorted. “What, that the flowers were a nice touch? Not to mention that she's my neighbor! My landlord. If I wasn't under lease I'd pack up my shit and move out rather than pay Trish Daniels another damned dime!”

Tessa pushed through the double doors. “Pipe down. The customers can hear you.”

Tony inhaled a deep breath. “I'm tryin'.”

“Look, I have an idea. Why don't you take her a fresh pizza? A big tossed salad with your amazing dressing and a slice of the turtle cheesecake Reese made last night?”

“Are you kiddin' me? You want me to bring her a dozen roses from Gabby's too? A bottle of Chianti?” To add insult to injury Tony had been thinking about his sexy little neighbor along those lines. Ha! That's what he got for trusting a woman.

Tessa shook her head. “Look, this really sucks and I'd love to give her a piece of my mind, but, Tony, you need to stop seeing red and think about how to handle this professionally. Maybe after eating an amazing meal from here, she'll write another review? I mean come on, she did say that we were obviously not prepared for such a big crowd. And she was right.”

“You tried to tell me, Tessa. I was too bullheaded to listen.” He sighed. “This is the only local paper and it is delivered all over Cricket Creek. People read it. This hurts.”

“I think Mom's right. Take her a pizza. We're not too busy. You need to go home and cool off. Go for a run with Digger. If we get in a pinch later we'll call, okay?”

Tony looked over at Tessa and she nodded. “Do it. You have the meatballs ready for tonight's special. Mondays are always slow for delivery too. We can handle pizza orders and we're fully staffed in the dining room. I interviewed two more servers today and someone else for kitchen prep work. You're worn out, Tony. Go home.”

Tony sighed, suddenly feeling so damned tired. At this point in his life, he should be almost coasting on cruise control instead of starting over. Sometimes it just really got to him. At times he felt like breaking down. Like now.

“Tony?” Tessa asked softly. “Are you okay?”

“Define okay?” he asked with a low chuckle.

Tessa walked over and gave him a hard hug. “Hey, we're Marinos. Made of strong stuff. One little crappy review isn't going to bring us down!”

“I'm making the pizza now,” Reese said. “Since we don't know what she likes, I'll just do basic pepperoni. Mom, the cheesecake is in the fridge.”

“I'm on it,” Tessa said.

Thirty minutes later Tony left the restaurant armed with the food. He only hoped he could keep his cool and not give Trish a piece of his mind. He turned on some music and tried to calm down and it almost worked until he parked his SUV and spotted Trish out in the backyard tossing a ball to Digger.

“What?” How in the hell did his dog get out? And then it suddenly all made sense why Digger liked Trish so much. She'd been letting him out without his permission! Not only had she tried to wreck his business, but she'd invaded his personal space. Tony narrowed his eyes and tried not to notice how cute she looked in worn jean shorts and a faded Cincinnati Reds T-shirt. She'd been critical of his restaurant. She was
not
cute. Her ponytail swinging back and forth with curly tendrils escaping wasn't sexy, nor were her bare feet or tanned legs.

After opening the car door, Tony picked up the pizza box and grabbed the big plastic bag laden with food. He turned and witnessed Trish bending over to pick up the ball Digger had dropped at her feet and then tossing it in the air, laughing when Digger deftly caught it in his mouth.

“Good boy!” Tail wagging, the happy dog immediately brought the ball back for another toss. They were both so engrossed in the activity that they didn't even notice him standing in the driveway until he slammed his door to draw their attention. Digger happily bounded over to greet him.

Trish stood there with wide eyes, looking as if she wanted the ground to swallow her up.

Good, Tony thought as he took long, angry strides in her direction. To her credit she didn't back up even though she swallowed hard and then licked her bottom lip. “I . . . can explain.”

Tony tilted his head to the side. “Explain why my dog is outside or explain why you felt the need to trash my restaurant to the public?”

“I didn't trash your restaurant!” Her chin came up. “I wrote about my personal experience at your establishment. I write the truth! What other reason would there be for reviews?”

“It was evident that we didn't expect such a large crowd. You could have come back later in the week.”

“That's not how it works! Look, I'm sorry but it's not my fault that my pizza was scorched and the service was slow or that you were out of salad.”

Okay, this wasn't going the way he'd planned. After inhaling a deep breath, Tony said, “I brought you a real example of our pizza. I've been in this business for a long time. My family had an amazing pizza parlor in Brooklyn until I was forced to close. I know how to make a killer pizza.” He thrust the box forward and handed her the bag. “There's salad with our homemade Italian dressing and turtle cheesecake that my nephew baked this morning. Everything we do is made by hand, including our sauce. Our crust is hand-tossed. You won't get a better pizza anywhere. Period.”

Trish took the box and looked at him with stormy eyes. “Tony, had I known it was your restaurant—”

“I don't need you to sugarcoat anything. Just eat the damned pizza. It speaks for itself.” He motioned to Digger. “Come on home.”

Digger looked at Trish and seemed to do a confused doggie frown, as if sensing something was terribly wrong. He sat by Trish's side.

“Are you for real, Digger?”

“You have been gone so much . . . we kind of . . . bonded.”

In his anger about the restaurant, Tony had forgotten to be pissed about Digger. “That didn't give you the right to open my door and let my dog out. Did you go inside my place too? Snoop around?”

“Of course not! Look, I couldn't find the lease papers and I didn't have your phone number. He was whining one day and my heart went out to him.”

“You realize what you did could be in violation of my lease.” He just came up with that one on the spur of the moment.

“You . . . you want to move out?” Her eyes widened and she rubbed her lips together. “Seriously?”

No, not really, and he actually hated the stricken expression on her pretty face. He knew his reaction was knee-jerk and a product of his pent-up anger at so many things that was making him react this way. “Maybe.” He motioned for Digger. “Let's go.” When Digger sat there on his haunches as if in protest, Tony shook his head and started walking toward his side of the house.

“Tony?”

He kept walking, taking large steps, knowing it would be hard for Trish to keep up.

“Look, I can understand your anger with me.”

Tony stopped, but the emotion in her voice wouldn't allow him to face her. He wanted to hold on to his anger, not forgive her.

“I really am sorry.”

He didn't want her apology. Her kindness. He didn't want to feel that pull of attraction, the need for a woman in his arms . . . or in his bed.

“But I would like your permission to let Digger out to play.”

“No.”

“You're being unfair. He's a good dog and needs to get out and exercise. Why deny me . . . I mean him that?”

Tony tried to ignore the twinge he felt at her small admission. “We've hired more staff,” he answered tightly. “I'll try to get home more often.”

“And if you can't? Do I have your okay?”

“I'll think about it,” Tony said, unwilling to give in so easily. That's what he'd done with Gloria. Looked the other way; extended forgiveness when he should have walked out. And where had that gotten him? She'd stripped him of his business and his pride, turning him into an unhappy shell of his former robust lifestyle. The first time he'd felt anywhere near his old self was when he flirted with Trish. And that could be dangerous. After his divorce he vowed never to give a woman the power to bring him to his knees ever again.

No, he'd stay as far away as he could from Trish Daniels, which was going to be difficult since she lived next door. Digger stared at him with those big brown eyes and Tony sighed. “Don't look at me like that. I'll come home more often. I promise.”

But as he took Digger on a long run through the woods, he couldn't stop thinking about Trish. It pissed him off! She was making him feel things he didn't want to feel. God, he remembered the touch of her skin, the scent of her hair, the sound of her laughter. Although Trish would probably never believe it, he'd been a romantic guy, bringing flowers for no reason. He loved holding hands, kissing . . .

And sex. Amazingly hot sex. When he made love to a woman he did it slowly, thoroughly, exploring every inch of skin, getting as much pleasure out of giving as receiving. He'd given his all and then some to Gloria, but it wasn't enough. Her betrayal cut him to the quick, stripping him of his pride, his confidence. But even worse was the fear of trying again. Tony saw the same fear in the eyes of his sweet sister. How could people be so cruel . . . so callous, heartless?

Anger exploded in his head like fireworks and he pushed harder until his breath came in ragged gasps and his lungs burned. His calves protested, but he ran through the pain, even welcomed it.

Tony refused to slow down until he neared the clearing that led back to the house. He veered off the worn path to cross the narrow part of the creek, using rocks for stepping stones. When Digger stopped to lap up some water from the creek, he pushed on. Not knowing if the water was safe for Digger to drink, Tony turned to call to him, tripping when he failed to see a tree root in his path. Twisting his ankle, he went down with a grunt followed by a curse.

Pushing up to his feet, Tony gingerly put weight on his foot, only to curse a blue streak. Digger looked at him with worried eyes. “It's okay, Dig. I don't think it's broken, only sprained.” But when he tried to walk it hurt like hell.

“Well, isn't this just great?” Tony hobbled around hoping he could find a sturdy stick that he could use as a damned cane but came up empty. With another curse he sat down on a fallen tree and looked at his ankle that had already begun to swell. He knew from experience that he needed to get ice on it pronto or he was going to have a helluva time working. “Damn it all to hell and back.”

Digger looked at him and then, as if hit with sudden inspiration, took off toward the house, pulling a Lassie. If Tony hadn't been in so much pain he might have laughed. Just as he thought, about fifteen minutes later Trish came into sight. She spotted him sitting on the fallen tree.

“Oh my gosh, what happened?”

“I tripped. Sprained my ankle,” he answered sullenly.

“Can you walk?”

“Does it look like it?”

She fisted her hands on her hips. “You don't have to be an ass.”

Yes, he did, or he would give in to the feeling of being glad to see her and the concern in her eyes. “I'll be able to hobble home in a few minutes. You can go back to writing something mean.”

“Okay,” she said, and to his horror she turned on her heel. Digger barked as if trying to tell her this wasn't the drill. She was supposed to help!

“Wait . . . um . . . I guess I could use some . . . uh . . .”

“Help?” She whipped around to face him. “Is it so hard to ask, Tony?”

“Apparently.” He inhaled a deep breath and used the edge of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Well, then, don't ask. I'm offering.” She knelt down and gently examined his ankle. “You need to ice it, pronto.”

“I know,” he answered tartly, but when she looked at him with sympathy in her blue eyes he softened.

“I realize it's going to be hard for you to swallow, but you're going to have to lean on me, you big beast.” She glowered at him and as long as he kept her pissed at him he felt safe.

“You mean sexy beast, right?”

“No.”

He eased up to his feet. “But you were thinking it.”

“I was not! But I do have to tell you that I ate your pizza.”

“And?”

“You were right. It was killer. The salad dressing was perfection. I tasted the cheesecake and it was divine. I'll finish it later in small, guilty bites.”

“So now you're eating crow.”

Trish gave him a deadpan stare. “Just when I think I could like you . . .” She sighed. “Now put your arm over my shoulder.”

“I'm sorry I'm really sweaty.”

“I don't think you are sorry at all. I think it will give you great pleasure to drip your sweat all over me,” she grumbled, but then suddenly fell silent, making him wonder if her comment conjured up the same visual as it did for him.

Tony swallowed hard. “You're right about that.” He knew he needed to stay pissed at her and to keep his guard up, but she was making it so damned difficult. “So, what are you going to do about the fact that you gave River Row Pizza and Pasta a bad review?” he asked, trying to remind himself that his sexy little landlord was the enemy.

“You'll see,” she replied.

“That's it? All you're gonna say?”

“Yep.”

When she failed to elaborate Tony fell silent, partly because he was starting to warm up to her all over again and partly because his ankle hurt like hell. He was never so glad to see the house come into view.