I grab my purse and leave, rolling my eyes.
Outside on the sidewalk, the sunshine hits me, along with an idea. I don’t need to go home and sulk over Luca not calling me. If I want to earn that heart back, I could at least make a move.
I walk up Baker Street until I get to the garage. There’s still paper all over the windows, so I can’t see in. I try the door. It’s unlocked.
Inside, the reception area has changed so much, it’s unrecognizable. A couple of guys are working on assembling a counter, and a few more are painting.
Luca looks up from some blueprints and comes over to me, smiling.
He waves around, apologizing for the mess. “Nothing’s finished, but it’s coming together.”
I look at the rejuvenated space in awe. The old drop ceiling with water-stained acoustic tiles has been removed, and the exposed wood beams have been sandblasted clean. Everything that’s new is a shade of grey, with chrome accents and a few splashes of color. There’s a painter putting a glossy coat of red on the wooden window frames.
“Luca, this isn’t a garage.”
He nods toward the service bays, which are now visible from the reception, now that an entire wall has been removed and replaced with glass.
“Not yet, I know. We’re still waiting on some equipment.”
“Forget that. I’m moving in here. This isn’t a garage. It’s my dream home.”
He chuckles. “But you already have a garage you live in.”
We’re interrupted by the guys working on the counter needing to ask Luca about something.
“I’ll let you go.” I back away.
“Friday night. Come to my house and I’ll make you dinner. It’s my turn.”
“Sure. And on Saturday, I won’t phone you. It’s my turn.”
“You won’t have to phone or not phone me, because you’ll still be there.”
“Nice.” I try to give him a dirty look, but I can’t resist his grin.
I turn to leave.
He runs ahead of me to hold open the door.
He gives me a kiss, then says softly in my ear, “Just a warning. My house, my rules.”
Chapter 16
I pull my car onto Luca’s street at quarter to seven.
I’m wearing casual clothes—a relatively new stretchy top, and jeans. The charm bracelet Luca gave me is sparkling on my left wrist with its four charms.
Summer weather is here, and sunshine is still glinting off cars and windows along the street.
This is a family-oriented neighborhood, and half the front lawns are strewn with giant plastic toys. The scent of barbecue hangs in the air.
Luca’s house is neither the newest nor the oldest on the block. It’s built in an architectural style that was popular in the city during the seventies, with minimal decoration—just a box with a low-pitched roof.
A man in a hat is watering some shrubs in front of the house next door. He watches me as I park my car and then walk up to Luca’s front door.
“You must be Tina.” He drops the garden hose and reaches across the shrubs to shake my hand. “I’m Chris. I’m the local heirloom tomato supplier. If you need salsa, just let me know.”
Luca opens his door. “Chris! Let her get in the door before you start pushing your condiments, man.”
Chris laughs, then looks me evenly in the eyes. “Do you like chutney?”
“Not the kind with raisins,” I answer.
Luca walks over and drapes his arm across my shoulders. It’s a casual gesture, but the touch of his arm, combined with the sunshine and the friendly neighbor is almost too perfect.
Luca kisses me on the side of my forehead, and the two of them talk for a few minutes about the plans Chris has for a new greenhouse.
A woman who must be his wife opens the front door and jokingly tells him to let us have dinner already. I look up in time only to catch the sight of her waving hand as she disappears again.
The neighbor tells us to have a good dinner, and picks up the garden hose again.
Luca guides me into his house, then shuts the door.
I don’t even get one peek around inside before he starts kissing me, backing me up against the door.
He kisses his way down my neck, then he gets down on his knees, lifts up my shirt, and kisses my stomach. “There it is,” he murmurs.
He kisses my stomach for a bit, then works his way back up again, my shirt lifted. He cups my br**sts through my bra, then kisses my upper chest.
I giggle and try to push him away, but I may as well try to move a giant boulder.
While he kisses my skin and rubs his freshly-shaved jaw on me, I open my eyes and look around.
“Luca, why do you have motorbikes parked in your house where a living room should be?”
He murmurs against my skin, “I’d put them in the guest bedroom, but it’s tricky getting them up and down the stairs.”
“But shouldn’t they be in a garage? Or outside?”
With a sigh, he gets to his feet again. He parks one meaty palm on the wall above my head and leans over me. His blue eyes are deep and serious.
“My house, my rules,” he growls.
I lean over to look past him at the bikes. There must be eight or nine that I can see from the entryway. I don’t see any regular furniture.
“Do you ride the bikes around inside the house?”
He guffaws. “Gotta ride somewhere when the weather’s bad outside.” He stares into my eyes, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Of course I don’t ride them inside the house. I wouldn’t want the exhaust getting up to the living space.”
“Right. Because that would be crazy.”
“My house, my rules.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me up a central staircase.
The upper floor looks more like a regular house. Mainly because there are no motorbikes.
“This house was originally a duplex,” he explains as he leads me over to the kitchen. “I did a full reno on the kitchen two years ago.” He slaps the poured concrete counter.
I look over the steel and concrete finishes. “And it was a manly renovation. One might say… a man-ovation.”
He raises one eyebrow. “I didn’t know we were already at the pun stage of the relationship. I suppose next you’ll be shaving your legs with my razor.”
“It is the fifth date. The fifth date is for puns and razor-sharing.”
“I’m glad someone knows the routine.”
I take a good look around the house. It’s very open, with few interior divisions. The walls are bare of pictures, and all the furniture is black and leather. It screams bachelor, which is good.