A Little Slice of Heaven (2 page)

“
I’ll kiss your ring later, Claudio.”

Tongue clucking, he shook his head. “No wonder your boyfriend is marrying somebody else. You too mean to keep a man happy.”

The barb, meant as a jest, sliced her to ribbons. For Claudio, a man who’d known and loved her since infancy, to rub humiliation in her face was beyond cruel.

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away with impatience. No more self-pity. Not when others had it worse than she did. She at least had a family, friends, people who loved her. Who did that poor wretch outside have? No one. No one except her. So be it.

With extreme care, she lifted the hook off the latch and opened the door to peek outside.

Claudio’s hand shot out, gripping her shoulder. “Where you think you going, eh?”

“
To talk to someone who doesn’t think I’m mean,” she replied and shrugged out of his grasp. “Don’t wait up.”

“
Go, then,” he snapped, swinging the door wide. “I not only wait up. I stay here and watch. You get into trouble, holler. Maybe I help you.” He cocked his head sideways. “Then again, maybe not.”

“
I’ll take my chances.”

Holding the paddle like a baseball bat, she strode outside and let the screen door slap closed behind her. The pathetic bouquet of dying chrysanthemums lay on the ground. Her heart turned to goo.

The man had disappeared. He must have rushed to hide behind the Dumpster when she came out. Or…was he lying in wait to accost her when the time was right? Dang, she’d done it again—leapt to action without considering the consequences.

Black clouds hovered overhead. The soft breeze from late afternoon had transformed into a blustery autumn wind.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should return to the safety of the kitchen. But…no. Claudio was inside, waiting to say, “I told you so,” again.

She lifted her chin, hefted her paddle, and stepped into the parking lot. “Sir?” Tiny hairs danced on her sleeveless arms, and she fought the urge to shiver against the cold. She tiptoed closer to his hiding place. “Would you come out please? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Unless, of course, you try to hurt me.

“
If you’ve no plan to harm me, put down the oversized Louisville Slugger.”

His tone was cultured, each syllable succinct and tinged with a slight New England accent which made the prickly hairs on her arms do the cha-cha.

Their positions created an interesting impasse. If she put down the paddle, she had no guarantee he wouldn’t attack her. But if she didn’t put down the paddle, he probably wouldn’t come out. At sunrise, they’d still be standing here. Gianna the Warrior, wielding her mighty pizza paddle while the White Knight cringed in the corner of the rear parking lot and the grumpy troll watched over the frozen players with malicious glee.

“
Fine.” Somehow she maintained an easy lilt to her voice, just as she would with a hyperactive child. “I’ll lower the paddle. But I’m keeping my grip on it.”

“
Okay, Sheriff,” he drawled. “I’m coming out with my hands up. Don’t shoot. And don’t swing for the fences either.”

Gianna was accustomed to heavily bearded, toothless derelicts with posture stooped from the burden of life’s hardships. This man was fairly clean. In fact, he looked like no homeless man she’d ever seen. A mere shadow of a beard, sparse around the mouth, coated his chin. Above the beard, his cheeks were ruddy from the cold, but not hollow. Although she couldn’t discern their color, his eyes were clear, with no alcohol- or drug-induced clouds. He stood tall and broad, hands upraised as promised. His teeth, even and white, flashed a smile born to make her knees knock together. Or had the bitter cold caused her tremors?

Say something, stupid
.

“
Wh-why did you bring me those flowers?” Well, that was certainly something stupid…

“
Because the doorman at Tiffany’s refused me entrance.” He jerked his head, indicating his raised arms. “Can I put down my hands now?”

For a moment she hesitated, scanning the distance between them. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Sure.”

His posture relaxed when he lowered his arms.

In response, she eased up on the paddle handle. The wind gusted, whipping brittle leaves across her Keds.

She shivered, looked around at the naked trees, the ripples sweeping over the pond behind him. “It’s pretty cold out here. Do you want to come inside? I’ve fixed you something to eat.”

“
No,” he replied, clipped and curt. “Thanks anyway.”

“
Why not?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I have my reasons. Why don’t you go back to work? I’m grateful for what you’ve done, but I’m not in a sociable frame of mind right now.”

Yeah, well neither was she these days. Still, she refused to give up. She’d dealt with stubborn children before. Like the others, this stubborn child would eventually come round to her side, if she played the game right.

“
Okay. Have it your way.” With a nod, she headed for the restaurant’s doorway where Claudio stood, watching, cordless phone poised to dial 911.

“
No hard feelings?” the man called after her.

“
No hard feelings,” she repeated and kept walking. No way she’d let him disappear into a freezing night without a fight…or at least a hearty meal. She strode inside and hung the paddle on its hook near the oven door.

Claudio grumbled, “You happy now?”

She ignored him, intent upon reaching the linen closet. There, she pulled out two large white tablecloths and two cloth napkins. A quick stop in the kitchen area garnered her a few pieces of silverware and two paper cups.

Claudio still stood sentry by the door.

She stalked past him, holding the assembled items against her chest. In the parking lot, she spread the tablecloths on the ground. She then arranged the napkins, cups, and silverware into two place settings on her makeshift picnic blanket. Without saying a word, she breezed inside to the counter and reached for a bottle of red wine.

No. On second thought, what if her date was a recovering alcoholic? Smarter to stick with something less volatile. She returned the wine to the shelf and selected a one-liter bottle of cola. The soft drink soon joined the linens at her makeshift picnic.

Claudio hovered like an overprotective Rottweiler when she returned to retrieve the casserole. “Why you doing this? Why you no leave this man alone?”

She jerked her chin at the hand-stitched sampler.
There, but for the grace of God, go I.
Claudio’s face registered no understanding, merely the same disapproval he’d worn all night.

He’d never understand. And she could never explain why she felt a kinship with a homeless man. Instead, she shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Something about him calls to me. I’m curious, I guess.”

“
Hmmph! Curiosity killed the
gato
.”

“
Which is why I have you here,” she replied, pulling out the bubbling dish of pasta with cheese. “To protect me from my own foolishness, right?”

He mumbled something, something insulting no doubt, but Gianna let him rant. She grabbed her fisherman’s cardigan from the hook near the door, and returned to the parking lot with two steaming plates. Kneeling, she set one in front of her, the other on the opposite side, and then settled in to wait.

“
Your dinner’s going to get cold if you don’t eat it soon,” she called in a tone normally reserved for a cafeteria full of rowdy kindergartners.

No reply.

Stubborn
.

Well, she’d show him what stubborn looked like. And since she had nowhere else to go tonight, she could wait as long as he could. Meanwhile, she’d eat while the meal was still hot.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she leaned forward to pick up her plate, and then dug into the casserole with her fork. She slid the food between her teeth and sucked in several breaths of air to cool the sauce and cheese burning her tongue.

“
Mmmmmmmm.” She exaggerated for his benefit. Kissing her fingertips, she exclaimed to the sky, “
Perfetto
.”

The wind howled and, as she’d hoped, blew the tantalizing smells in his direction. From the corner of her eye, she watched the stranger take a few steps toward her. Then, he stopped. Basically the same reaction she received from the stray cats she fed here. So she used the same response on the man. She ignored him and poured cola into one of the cups.

As effervescent liquid bubbled and popped, she watched his movements over the rim.

He inched forward slowly, wary gaze moving from side to side, alert to her every movement. He stood only a few feet from her now.

She remained still as stone, waiting for him to make up his mind. Would he sit and eat with her? Or would he run away?

He took a long time to decide. But once he did, he moved so quickly she nearly missed the action when she blinked. One moment he stood over the tablecloths. The next, he sat across from her, the plate on his lap, silverware in his hand.

With meticulous precision, his knife cut the penne into bite-sized pieces. He then speared a small bit of pasta, sauce, and cheese and slid it into his mouth. An expression of pure rapture, eyes closed, smile dreamy, illuminated his features.

Glory hallelujah. “I’m glad you decided to join me,” she said, hiding a triumphant smile behind her cola cup. Her gaze lowered to his fingers. Beneath smudges of dirt, remnants of clear polish remained on his nails. Did homeless men normally get manicures? Once again, curiosity overrode common sense. “Can I ask you something?”

He pierced another forkful of pasta. “You want to know how I wound up in this situation, right?”

“
Well, it’s obvious you’re not from around here. I mean, Setquott Beach is a small community and…” Heat rose in her cheeks, and she wondered if she’d overstepped some invisible boundary. Focusing on her fork, she toyed with the penne and cheese. Jeez, she was making a muck of this. “I’m sorry. Whatever happened to you is none of my business. It’s just… well, you don’t strike me as the typical homeless person.”

“
I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She looked up and caught a bemused smile twitching his lips. “You should. I mean, you’re obviously not a drunk.” She narrowed her eyes, studying his previously manicured fingers. “You don’t look like a junkie. I guess I’m…well…nosy. You’re not what I expected a homeless guy to look like.”

“
I’ve only been homeless for nine days.” He spread his hands wide. “As you can see, I’m not very good at it.”

“
So what happened? How did you wind up homeless? And here?”

“
How does anyone wind up in this situation? A few bad decisions, a couple of miscalculations. One day, you’re moving through life just as you always have. The next, poof!” He fanned his fingers like a magician at the end of an amazing sleight-of-hand. “Everything you’ve ever believed in is revealed a sham. And you’re left out in the street with nowhere to turn.”

She could certainly relate. Deep in her scarred heart, a wave of pity converged with a tide of camaraderie. “Would you like to work for me?” The words flew out of her mouth before she considered the repercussions.

The fork fell from his hand and landed on the white tablecloth, leaving a bloody stain of sauce in its wake.

“
You don’t even know me,” he reminded her.

“
I may not know your name, but I know you have a good heart. Your actions told me so, but the flowers tonight…well, they clinched my theory.”

She dipped her head, concentrated on the dish in her lap. He wouldn’t like what she was about to say, but she needed to say it. Had to get the guilt out of her system, let him know where he stood from the get-go.

“
I’ve been watching you,” she confessed. Her throat dried to a pillar of sand, but she eked out the words. “After I leave at night, I park around the side of the building and hide behind the trees near the pond. I shouldn’t have, I know. It’s rude, but I had to know something about you.”

A shadow darkened his face, lending him a dangerous mien. “And what did you find out?”

“
Deep down, you’re a good man. Because, no matter what I leave for you, you share your meal with Mr. Whiskers.”

“
Mr. Whiskers?”

“
The cat with half a tail. I brought the anchovies out for him. I’ve been trying to catch him for two months now. He needs a vet’s care. But he won’t let me get close.” She quirked a half-smile. “Any man who can gain a cat’s trust is okay in my book.”

He leaned forward and set his empty plate on the ground. “So because I share a meal or two with a beaten up old cat, you’re willing to offer me a job?”

She clasped her hands, almost a sign of prayer. Maybe she was praying. For some reason she couldn’t explain, a burning need to help spurred her onward. “It’s a win-win situation. I need another employee. You need a job and a place to stay. I won’t lie to you. It’s not the most exciting job in the world. You’ll bus tables, help in the kitchen, that sort of stuff. But the offer does come with a one-bedroom apartment above the restaurant, currently unoccupied. You interested?”

His eyes widened, and she finally got a good look at them. Not green, not brown. Hazel, maybe. Nice eyes. Honest and clear.

“
Do you always rescue people you find in the garbage?”

She laughed. “No, I rescue cats. You’re my first human.”

“
I’m honored.”

His teasing tone sent ripples of pleasure across her flesh. “Does that mean you accept?”

“
I think it does.”

“
There’s a catch though.”

Stiffening, he quirked a brow. “What?”

“
You have to tell me your name.”

His posture relaxed, and the darkness fled. Eyes narrowed, he studied her when he said, “Kyle. Kyle Hayden.”

Was she supposed to recognize his name? Had he been someone famous once? Well, she wouldn’t dwell on used-to-be. She of all people knew used-to-be only mattered in memory.