Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,55
sizing me up, I can tell, and I wonder if she thinks I might have romantic interest in her only daughter.
Lately, I’ve been wondering if I have romantic interest in her too.
“My name is Vera,” her mother says, offering her hand for me to shake.
I take it, bring her hand up to my lips and press a faint kiss to the back of it. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Ricci.”
“Oh, you.” She snatches her hand from my grip with a laugh, sending Stella a look. “Who is this charmer you bring with you?”
“I already told you, Ma,” she starts, but Vera grabs a towel from the counter and smacks Stella’s butt, making her yelp.
“I know who he is. I just didn’t expect him to be so charming. Or so good looking.” Another assessing glance from Stella’s mom, and I’d love to know what she’s thinking.
Or maybe not.
“Perhaps he’s trying to get on my good side,” Vera says, her eyes narrowed.
Yeah. Maybe not.
“Stella!” Michael enters the kitchen, his gaze alighting on me. “Oh good, you brought Carter. Come on. I’ll introduce you to our father.”
I have no choice but to follow Michael, moving beyond the kitchen and entering what looks like a less formal version of the living room. The furniture isn’t as ornate, and appears a lot more comfortable. There’s a flat screen TV on the wall with a basketball game playing, though I don’t pay any attention to it. All I can do is stare at the view spread out before me of the ocean, thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows that take up the entire length of the room.
Approaching the windows, I study the view before me. The water is choppy, little white caps dotting the blue, and the waves come in with a steady crash, smashing against the outcropping of black rocks almost violently.
“Carter.” Michael claps me on the back, and I turn to find him standing in front of me with his brother Tony, along with an older gentlemen who looks just like them. “This is my father, Lorenzo.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ricci.” I shake their father’s hand.
“Call me Lorenzo,” he says with a smile. “Though we know each other, thanks to the coffee shop.”
The coffee shop. He means Sweet Dreams.
“Yeah, you’ve rung me up once or twice,” I tell him with a chuckle.
“Did I make you pay for your drink?”
“A couple of times,” I answer.
“Huh. You’re the brother of Caroline, you should never have to pay for your coffee.” He angles his body toward the windows, staring out at the sea. “I’ve lived here so long, you’d think I wouldn’t notice this view. That it would become like wallpaper. Something you don’t even see anymore.”
Neither Michael nor Tony say a word, so neither do I, figuring their father has more to say.
“I’ve watched that ocean for the last thirty-three years, and discovered quickly it has a personality. Like it’s an actual person. Some days it’s pleasant and calm. The water smooth and sparkling in the sun. Other days it’s dark and gray, swirling and stewing. On days like this one, it’s both. Beautiful and blue, yet touched with white, which is never good. You know why?”
“Because of the wind?” My answer sounds like a question, only because I feel like he’s testing me.
“Exactly. The wind. She’s a violent mistress, and she stirs up the water to make it as angry as herself.” Lorenzo chuckles, inclining his head toward Stella, who’s making her way toward us. “Much like this one.”
She gives her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Are you comparing me to the sea again?”
“Of course. You are a mystery, my Stella.” It’s his turn to kiss her cheek and she laughs, turning her focus on me.
“You remember Carter, don’t you, Daddy?”
Lorenzo nods. “Of course. The boys tell me Carter’s here to discuss possibly selling your nonna’s home.”
I hold my hands up in front of me defensively. “Not quite. I thought we were going to discuss renovating it first.”
“You are a real estate agent, no?” Lorenzo’s bushy dark brows shoot up.
This is where I admit something that Stella doesn’t even know about yet. “Yes. As of Monday, I’ll be an agent at Carmel Realty Company.”
Stella shifts away from her father, moving so she’s standing directly in front of me. “Really? When did this happen? You never mentioned it.”
“Yesterday.” I send her a look, one that says, don’t blow our roommate cover. Hell, I hope that’s what my look says.