“How do you think I feel about you and your dad? If you had waited for me to take you to your parents’ house, none of this would have happened.”
Not true. Kana would have showed up before we got there. But it was over and everything had worked out, so why bring it up? “I’m sorry, Marco. I’ll try to make sure it never happens again.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “You’re not going to list your reasons for not waiting?”
“Nope. I’m done with lists. I’d rather contemplate your positive qualities.”
“I’m not even going to ask you to explain.”
“Okay, you can kiss me again instead.”
His mouth curved up at the corner. “We can do a lot more than that.”
“Tonight?”
“Later tonight.”
Things were looking up.
“And tomorrow,” he said, his lips against my ear, “my place for dinner?”
“Perfect. Just the two of us-” I pushed away from him. “Your mother invited me to dinner, didn’t she?”
“Yep.”
Things were no longer looking up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“How do I look?” I asked Marco, turning for him. For his mother’s Saturday dinner, I’d put on a black pencil skirt and powder blue shawl-neck sweater with black pumps, hoping to impress Mrs. Salvare with my sensible yet stylish outfit.
“You always look beautiful, Abby.”
That lie right there was reason enough to tear up my list.
Marco held out my coat so I could slip into it. “We’d better go. Mama will be pulling that pan of lasagna out of the oven in ten minutes. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”
My stomach tensed at the thought of facing Francesca Salvare. I knew she’d quiz us about our engagement plans, except we still didn’t have any. Marco and I had wanted to have our discussion last night, but by the time he’d spent several hours on his PI case, it was so late when he arrived at my apartment, all we could do was tumble into bed. Together. A hot, sweaty, lusty, rousing
We awoke to Marco’s cell phone chirping-a call from his mom wondering why he wasn’t home. Had he been on surveillance all night? At which point Marco had drawn me against his warm, hard body and assured her he had indeed been undercover.
Because we’d slept in, and it was my Saturday to work, I had to scramble to get to Bloomers before nine o’clock. On the plus side, however, since I no longer had to fear being kidnapped, I got to drive my Vette all by myself. I smiled at Marco as he helped me into my coat. Life was good again.
Except…
It was time to face the music. Fish or cut bait. No more waffling. We’d delayed long enough, and I felt certain his mom was going to ask when this engagement was going to happen-she’d certainly hinted enough-and not let us off the hook until we gave her an answer.
“What are we going to say when your mom asks about our engagement?” I asked as Marco opened the car door for me.
“What do you want to say?”
“What do I want to say or what does she want to hear?”
“Whichever.”
“Whichever what?”
“Whichever you want to answer.”
This was getting us nowhere fast. “What would you answer?”
He pursed his lips, thinking. “We should have discussed this last night.”
“But we didn’t.”
He glanced at me. “Are you sorry?”
“About last night? Are you serious?”
He reached over to squeeze my hand. “Happy?”
“Of course, silly, and madly in love with you. How about you?”
He lifted an eyebrow. That little gesture was enough to make my pulse race, especially after last night. “Same here, Fireball.”
So why were we both dancing around the idea of commitment?
When we pulled up in front of the white two-story that housed Marco’s apartment, I noticed my parents’ specially equipped van parked at the curb. “Marco, what are my parents doing here? I talked to my mom on the phone this morning. She didn’t mention anything about coming over.”
“They must be planning another ambush.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t show up.”
Marco gave me a look that said, You have to be kidding.
“My Prius is gone,” Marco noted as he walked me to the front porch. “That means Rafe isn’t back yet. He said he had to drop something off at his girlfriend’s place, but he promised to be here in time for dinner.”
“Is this the girl from Hooters? The one he wanted to impress with my Vette last night?”
“That’s the one.”
“He’s not going to leave her to come back here for dinner, you know.”
“I agree.”
Great. No Rafe to distract Marco’s mom. It was just us and the parents. I nibbled my lower lip as we climbed the steps to the second floor and stepped into his living room. It was a decidedly masculine space with lots of big furniture and a huge, flat-panel TV. My mom was seated on the sofa, my dad was in his wheelchair, and both had glasses of wine. Dad’s crutches, I noticed, were near the staircase. He’d had to use them to get up the stairs.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight,” I said to them, as Marco took my coat.
“Your mom just informed me two hours ago,” Dad said.
Mom merely smiled.
At that moment, Marco’s mother bustled into the room, a younger but not quite as pretty version of Sophia Loren, luxurious dark hair, wide smile, gorgeous curves and all. She wore a black dress with a colorful apron tied around her waist and had a wooden spoon in her hand.
“Bella Abby!” she cried, enveloping me in a warm hug. “I’m so happy to see you.” She turned to Marco. “Why are you standing there? Get her a glass of wine and one for yourself. Dinner is ready and where is your brother? Well, no matter. He’ll be here soon. Everyone, come eat!”
We arranged ourselves around Marco’s table, where Mrs. Salvare lifted her wineglass and waited for us to follow suit. “Now, then, I believe we have someone who wants to make an announcement.”
I gripped Marco’s fingers under the table. Yikes!
My mom cleared her throat. “I am happy to announce that my dissension group is going to meet with Mr. Raand and members of the local media at Uniworld next Wednesday evening to discuss the new dairy operation.”
Whew! That was close. “Raand agreed to that?” I asked.
Dad sent me a look that said, Let your mom finish.
“We are going to demand that no bovine hormones, or any other kind of hormones, be used on their cows,” Mom continued. “Instead, we are going to ask them to implement a method that dairy farmers around the world have been using for centuries, namely, that they will talk to their cows, provide calming music for them, and name them.”
“Brava, Maureen,” Mrs. Salvare said, applauding.
