Black Jack (Advantage Play #5) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,35

round cheeks, and a young woman that I assume is their daughter. I scan a few of the images, but the constant pressure from Jack’s hand pressed to the small of my back doesn’t let me stop to study them more closely.

A few steps later, I’m led to a small, round kitchen table that’s tucked in an equally modest-sized room off the kitchen. Four sets of dinnerware are meticulously placed on olive green matching placemats, and I take in the slight chip that mars a single, black mug that’s filled with amber liquid.

“I’m not much of a wine guy,” Embry informs me, reading my mind. “I prefer something over the rocks, but I’d be happy to pour you a glass. Melanie had me open a bottle of wine a little while ago to let it breathe. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll get it from the kitchen.”

“Thanks,” Jack answers for me with a smirk. “She’d love a glass.”

I nearly roll my eyes but restrain myself. Pasta and wine? Does he want me to live at the gym for the rest of my life?

“Perfect. I’ll be right back. And like I said, take a seat.” Wallace motions to the table, then adds, “Stay awhile,” before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Jack.

“I’d love a glass?” I mutter under my breath as he pulls out the closest chair for me to sit on.

He scoots it back in and bends closer to me, so that only I can hear his dark chuckle. It causes goose bumps to race up my spine, but I ignore them.

“I figured you might need it if we’re going to get through tonight,” he teases.

Glancing over my shoulder, my breath hitches. He’s right there. “How kind of you.”

“Kind.” He smirks. “Not usually an adjective that’s used to describe me, but I’ll take it.”

Then he takes a seat next to me, and I open my mouth to make another snarky comment when the floorboards creak, cutting me off.

Wallace and his wife return with their arms full. The scent of freshly baked bread makes my mouth water as they set a loaf in front of me, but I swallow it back and search for that damn bottle of wine that’s been promised.

If I’m loading up on carbs and calories, I might as well drown out my guilt as I do so.

“Can I help you carry anything?” Jack offers. “This smells delicious.”

“We can handle it.” Wallace’s wife waves him off and finishes setting down a casserole dish brimming with marinara sauce and golf-ball sized meatballs. “And thank you. I know it was quite the risk to cook Italian food for an Italian, but Wallace has been craving spaghetti for weeks, so I figured, why not?”

I was right. She’s gorgeous. Not in a Beverly Hills kind of way. It’s more genuine than that. She has a soft stomach and crow’s feet framing her eyes. But there’s a smile etched onto her face and a twinkle in her gaze that makes me instantly like her.

And I haven’t instantly liked anyone in a long time.

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” I tell her.

“And I’m sure that even if it isn’t, you’ll be too polite to tell me differently,” she returns with a wink before setting down a plate of asparagus that’s been sprinkled with parmesan. Next to it, Wallace places a bowl full of noodles and another filled with freshly tossed salad. It looks very…American, and doesn’t remind me of my childhood at all. I smile and exhale with relief.

“I’m Melanie, by the way,” she adds. “And you must be Bianca and Jack.”

“Nice to meet you,” we both say in unison.

“You too. Wally, did you get the wine?” Melanie asks her husband.

He presses a quick peck to her cheek. “Someone put me to work as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, so my hands were a little full. I’ll get it right now.”

“Thank you.” A wistful sigh escapes her as she watches him disappear into the kitchen only to return seconds later with said bottle in hand.

He pours a generous portion into my goblet, then does the same to his wife’s glass. Once drinks are poured, we each dish up some pasta, salad, and homemade French bread. It all looks amazing. I twirl the noodles around the prongs on my fork before raising it to my lips. I can feel Jack watching me, but he doesn’t comment as I slip the utensil into my mouth, then lick it clean just to