Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3) (7 page)

The clock on his wall told me he’d be back in five hours. I’d worked an early shift doing inventory at Faeries and Moonbeams and was tired. I walked to the guest bedroom and found Ferdinand sprawled out on the mattress.

“
Gotta get up, boy,” I said. “I’m taking a nap.”

He didn’t budge. I walked over and pushed him with all my might. He didn’t move an inch. He was dead weight, lying diagonal across the bed. I pushed him again. Nothing.

The exertion made me breathless. “Fine,” I said and stomped back to Paul’s room.

Eager to nap, if only for a little while, I pulled his covers back and removed my jeans. Not wanting to get caught sleeping in his bed, I set my alarm for two hours. When the lights were out, I curled underneath his blanket and sighed.

The sheets smelled like him. A little. Maybe I only pretended they did.

When I’d nearly fallen asleep, I heard Ferdinand’s paws pitter patter on the carpet and then he climbed onto the bed, snuggling in as close as possible.

I smiled and wrapped my arm around him.

“
Mia,” someone said. “Mia…” They gave my shoulder a gentle shake.

I whined, pulling the covers higher over my head. His chuckle sent a tingle down my spine and I shot up. Disoriented, I looked around the room. Paul was standing by the bed, his suitcase at his feet. Ferdinand was next to him, tongue lagging out of his mouth. The clock on the wall said 6 p.m.

“
You’re early,” I said.

“
Yeah.” He smiled. “I was ready to be home and took an earlier flight.”

My hands went to my hair, trying to comb out the tangles. “I’m sorry. I only slept here because Ferdinand was hogging the other bed.”

“
Don’t worry about it.” He reached a hand out to me, and I realized he was trying to help me down. With a bashful smile, I accepted. It wasn’t until I was standing that I realized I still wasn’t wearing pants. My tank top was short and the polka-dot panties couldn’t be missed.

Paul’s eyebrows shot up, but he was a complete gentleman and didn’t peek. I kinda wish he would have peaked.

“
Sorry,” I said, grabbing my jeans. Quickly, I pulled them up my legs and smiled brightly at him, trying my best to let the minor embarrassment go. “So, your trip was nice?”

He chuckled, looked to his feet then cut his eyes up to me. I fell in love with that smile. Crooked. Lopsided. Turning up only on one side. It was shy and playful all at once. “Not so bad,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner. I want to repay you for helping me out.”

“
Oh, you don’t have to do that. I wanted to help.”
What are you doing? He wants to take you to dinner!
“But, if you want…we can, I can—”

“
Italian,” he cut me off. “You look like you’d like Italian.”

“
I do.” My smile was eager and it took all I had not to squeal.

“
Then let’s go.”

“
Okay,” I said, trailing after him.

We rode to the restaurant in his Honda Accord. The car was well kept exactly like his home. “You’re a neat freak, aren’t you?”

“
Why? Are you a slob?”

“
No,” I said. “Just not as neat as you.” I took a receipt out of my purse and rolled it into a ball. While we stopped at a red light, I made sure he watched as I tossed it into the back seat, giving him a challenging look. He regarded me with an arched eyebrow. “How long can you leave it back there?” I asked.

Paul shook his head, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I can do it,” he said. “You’ll see.”

“
We will,” I countered. “I bet you won’t last more than a day.”

“
Think you’ve got me all figured out?”

Not hardly.
This was the most time we’d spent together. Even though I’d met him over a year ago and thought of him constantly, in truth, we hardly knew a thing about each other. And now…I was in his car, riding with him to a restaurant.

What did the quiet bring him? Did he daydream? Did he still have hopes? Wishes? Did he sing in the shower? Or in his car when he was all alone?

I narrowed my eyes, studying him. His jawline was well pronounced. His facial hair was perfectly shaved. He was wearing a long sleeve dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons undone. It was tucked into tailored slacks. His hair was a deep brown, styled meticulously. It was thick and soft, but I knew he never wore it any other way.

He needed a little disorder in his life.

Feeling uncomfortable under my stare, he gave a nervous laugh, and I reached over and fluffed his hair, making sure to get my fingers really in there. Driving, he struggled to push me off.

“
This is for your own good!” I said over his laughter.

“
Stop!” he said, swatting me away. He wasn’t angry, but amused, shaking his head as he pulled into the restaurant. The building was old with chipped paint and dated architecture. It was new to me, a place I never even knew existed.

“
What’s this?” I asked him.

“
Macione’s,” he said, winking.
Mah-see-oh-knee.
I loved the way it sounded coming from his lips. He added the tiniest hint of Italian dialect and it made me want to swoon.

We unbuckled and stepped out of the car. “Does your family own it?” Maybe I was about to meet them.

“
More or less,” he said. “My Uncle and cousin.”

I grinned as I stopped in front of him. His disheveled hair was pointing out in different directions and it made him look like a super saiyan. “Here.” I chuckled and brought my hands to it.

Slowly, I ran my fingers through the thick locks, taking longer than I needed to. My breaths were audible and my throat felt tight. With each gentle touch to his hair, my body swayed towards him—our legs brushing, our arms connecting. Despite Paul’s calm expression, he was breathing heavy too and his body was tense.
You can touch me if you want to, Paul.

“
Good as new,” I said when the last lock was in place.

“
Pretty Mia,” he mused, looking me in the eyes. I blushed and curled into his side. His hand settled on my hip and we walked toward the restaurant.

CHAPTER EIGHT

PAUL KNEW THE HOSTESS. He knew the waiter. He knew the cook. Paul knew everyone.

The restaurant was small, but instead of cramped, it felt cozy. The lighting was soft. All of the tables were adorned with red tablecloths and tiny, flickering candles. A gentle violin played in the background. The sound of clicking dishes and quiet conversations gave it an intimate ambiance. It was romantic, putting me in a dreamy reverie.

We sat at a small table tucked away in a nook, secluding us. Paul ordered half a dozen things from the appetizer menu promising I would love them all.

“
I trust you,” I said.

After the waiter left us, he and I regarded each other. The candlelight was casting tender shadows across his face. Casually, he was leaned back in his chair, toying with his silverware. His smile was soft, inviting. It made me feel warm.

This was so different from the Paul I’d grown accustomed to. His usual reluctance was replaced by courage. He was self-assured. Willing. What had changed?

“
Do you still think you’ll move to Florida?” I asked because it was important. What would be the point in beginning anything with him if he’d be leaving soon?

He was thoughtful, mulling over my question. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I have plenty of reasons to go. It might be time to leave. To start over somewhere. But…”

The statement fell off and he looked hesitant.

“
But…?” I pushed.

“
But…I don’t know. Maybe I have a few reasons to stay, too.”

Me. I’m a reason to stay.
“When do you have to decide?”

“
In a few months.”

A few months. Would it be worth it? I looked into his eyes and knew it was. Paul’s rightness drew me in. I had to know what could happen between us, where it would all lead if given the chance.

We fell silent again, studying each other. He was better at it than I was. A quiet, nervous laugh escaped me when his look became too much to bear. Paul shook his head finding something about me charming.

“
What?” I asked.

“
Nothing. You’re about to graduate aren’t you?”

“
Yes,” I said. “In May.”

“
Have any plans?”

“
Not really. I have a minor in Art History, but there haven’t been many openings in this area for something like that. No matter what I do, I’ll probably have to move too.”

Paul confessed that he didn’t know much about art, or what I could do with that degree, but he’d visited the New Orleans Museum of Art several times. It was ironic really. I’d never been.

“
What?” he said when I told him. “Really?”

“
I know,” I said, laughing with embarrassment. “It’s shameful.”

“
Well, I know where I’m taking you next time.”

I hid my excited smile by propping my mouth against my hand. “I’d like that,” I said, trying not to seem too ecstatic.

When the food arrived, we dove in, sharing the plates. Everything was perfect. Creamy sauces. Hearty meats. Flavorful sides. It wasn’t long before my tummy was full and couldn’t take any more.

“
Goodness,” I said, pushing the food away. “Can you cook like this?”

“
No,” he chuckled, stuffing the last bit of meatball into his mouth. “Afraid not. My mother though…” He made a pleased grunt. “She’d run my uncle out of business.”

“
What’s that?” a gentleman asked. He was smiling and approached Paul with open arms. Paul stood to give him a hug. “If Mamma Macione opened a restaurant, I would be working for her in two weeks. Tops.” He was older and had a slight Italian accent. He had to be Paul’s uncle and wanting to make a good impression, I smiled when he looked at me. “And who is this?” he asked, kneeling down in front of me. He took my hand and looked deeply into my eyes. It was unnerving and I chuckled hoping to hide my unease.

“
Such a lovely lady. Is she with you Paul?”

“
Yes,” Paul answered, exasperated. “She is. Now stop being weird.”

“
Me? Weird? It is not weird to appreciate the beauty of a woman.” He turned to me, squeezing my hand. “What is your name?”

“
Mia,” I said, leaning away from him. He seemed nice, but had no notion of personal space.

“
Mia?” He smiled. “Do you know what ‘Mia’ means in Italian?” I shook my head. “Paul has not told you?”

“
No,” I said.

“
Mine
.”

“
Oh.”

He stood, pulling me to my feet. Still holding my hand, he gave me a twirl and my face heated. “Now, let me give you back to your beloved.” Paul accepted my hand in his then put an arm around my waist.

“
She is lovely, Paul,” his uncle said. “You must bring her to meet the rest of the family.” He turned to me. “Next time you come, ask for Anthony. I will get you anything you need.”

“
Thank you,” I said.

“
Dinner is on me tonight,” Anthony said, throwing his hands into the air. “Go. Enjoy yourselves. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mia.”

“
You, too, Anthony.”

“
Thanks, Uncle Tony,” Paul said, laughing to himself.

He kept his arm around me until we made it to the parking lot, only letting me go to retrieve his keys. “Sorry,” he said. “Tony is a little in your face. The rest of my family is more reserved.”

“
It was…okay,” I said, smiling. “He thoroughly embarrassed me, but then again he did
call me lovely
and
your beloved.”