Lavished with Lavender - Valerie Comer Page 0,18

a better cook than she was — no one would ever pay good money for a meal she made, after all — but that didn’t give him the right...

Didn’t it? He was Mrs. Santoro’s grandson. Why couldn’t he bring her food if they both wanted? What did it hurt anyone?

Just Kenna’s sense of control was at stake. She marched into the house, the quiet tennis shoes not making nearly the statement she wanted, then down the hallway and into her bedroom before shutting the door. Firmly.

Kenna slumped to sit on the edge of her bed. Was she being completely unreasonable? Tony obviously thought so, and she had let him win this round. To say nothing of him winning the round about her footwear. Why was she giving in to him? Wouldn’t that make him insufferable?

He’d appeared so easygoing at first. Everyone seemed to like him, from his aunts to his cousins to the reviewers who ate at Antonio’s. Was Kenna the only person who saw the irrational side of him?

Or... could it be her? She could admit to having strong opinions, a resolute sense of how things should be. But that didn’t mean she had to spark off Tony Santoro like a lit match against a short fuse every time they met. It definitely wasn’t the other kind of spark. He irritated her, nothing more.

He might be cute, but that didn’t count for anything. He might be broad-shouldered with an athletic build, but she didn’t particularly care.

Tony Santoro was nothing to her except the guy who lived downstairs and her client’s seemingly favorite grandson. He was the polar opposite of Maurice Hamelin in every way imaginable, but that could only stand the entrepreneurial chef in a good light. She didn’t want another man like her late husband in her life.

Wait. Stop. She didn’t want another man in her life at all. Ever.

Was Tony’s pasta primavera any good? It had smelled robust, savory, and delicious. And thankfully not like lavender at all.

“Matteo. It is good to see you, my son.” Nonna tilted her face toward Tony’s dad, who dutifully kissed one cheek then the other.

Mom swooped in and did the same. “How are you, Mamma? Is Tony taking good care of you?”

As if he had the chance with Kenna around. Kenna, who stood at the entrance to the bedroom wing, arms at her sides, with a blank expression on her face. Like that was anything new. Didn’t fool Tony for one red hot second. He’d met the opinionated side of the nurse far too many times.

“Please meet my nurse, Makenna Johnson.”

Hamelin, Tony’s brain corrected, but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

“Between her and Tony, they do well. And Winnie and Grace come often, too.”

That left Aunt Genevera, who worked full-time, and Aunt Betta, who was rather timid and slightly terrified of her mother-in-law.

Kenna shot him an indiscernible look before she stepped forward with a smile to shake hands with his parents.

“My son, Matteo, and his wife, Constance. They live in Galena Landing, Idaho.”

“We’re here this weekend for Mamma’s birthday party.” Mom squeezed both Kenna’s hands.

“I understand I’ve usurped your usual bedroom,” Kenna replied. “I’m sorry.”

Tony doubted that.

“Oh, that’s fine. We don’t mind staying with Ray and Grace this time. We’re all just so thankful for the care you’re providing.”

All of them were thankful? Okay, fine. Tony was thankful, too. He could only wish his aunts had found someone a bit less abrasive. Some plump middle-aged nurse who didn’t threaten his very existence.

He scowled at Kenna. How on earth had he allowed her to get under his skin this much? She’d been in the house for three weeks now. Aside from the odor of bland food seasoned by scorching it, she seemed to be doing a fine job.

“And how is Mamma’s prognosis?” Dad shook Kenna’s hand.

Nonna’s eyebrows went up as she looked between them, like she wanted to know, too.

Kenna bit her lip for a second. “The healing is somewhat slower than her doctors would have liked. There’s just no way to stabilize the pelvic bone completely, short of lying in the same position for weeks, and of course, that’s not practical.”

Nonna muttered something under her breath in Italian.

Tony was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what she’d said.

“So you’ll be here for a while yet?” Dad asked.

Kenna angled her head in agreement. “It looks that way. Even the most optimistic outlook, back in August, said she’d need assistance for a minimum of two months, but it looks like three