SALVAGE PRIDE

13

I take her hand in mine and squeeze. “You’ll make it happen, Grace. I know you will.”

“Thanks, honey. Your support means the world to me.”

“Of course, I support you! Now, we better head back to the house. I’ll need to head to Hardwick soon.” I roll my eyes and sigh dramatically.

Grace giggles. “You better keep me posted on how that goes. I want to hear all about it.”

When we get back to her parents’ house, the sun has risen up over the trees, and her dad is standing out front talking with Carter and Zeno beside a fancy four-wheel-drive golf cart. All three men are casually dressed, which would otherwise be unremarkable had I seen Zeno in anything other than a suit since we were children. He looks like a corporate Grecian god when suited in sleek Armani, but formfitting jeans sculpted to his corded thighs are equally as mesmerizing, maybe even more so because of the rarity of its occurrence. A good three-piece suit may be the equivalent of sexy lingerie for men, but the gentle drape of a soft cotton shirt molded over muscle should never be discounted. The sight of a casual Zeno De Rossi threatens to scramble my brain.

It’s fortunate I have absolutely no interest in him because the sight of so much masculine perfection might stir up a girl’s hormones. Not me. Only righteous indignation here. Woman scorned and something about wrath. Yeah. That’s it.

“What did your dad just say?” I whisper to Grace.She eyes me curiously as we approach the men. “He said he wondered where we’d gotten off to. You okay?”

“Yeah. Shh.” I grin and swath myself in feminine grace. “Hello, gentlemen. Is there something we can help you with?”

Mr. Larson waves his hand. “Not at all. Mr. De Rossi here was going to borrow some chairs and tables for the wake tonight, but they’re in storage. I’m about to have a look at what condition they’re in.”

“It appears the rental company we contacted double-booked,” Zeno explains. “Now, we’re shy some seating.”

“It won’t be a problem, Z,” Carter assures him. “We’ll get the chairs all cleaned up and brought over. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“Absolutely,” Mr. Larson agrees. “I’ve got it covered. You can head on back. I’m sure you have plenty of other arrangements to be made.” Then the older man turns back to me. “I hear you’re helping out as well, Luisa. I’ll bet that’s a big relief for your mom.”

“It is, and she’s probably wondering where I’m at, so I better get to the house.” I give a parting smile and start to turn.

“No reason to walk. Mr. De Rossi is headed that way. Surely, he wouldn’t mind giving you a ride.”

Zeno’s gaze collides with mine.

My heart stumbles, skipping over beats and rushing blood to my face. It takes every ounce of my composure to formulate a coherent response. “Thank you, but the walk will do me good.” My eyes stay locked with Zeno’s, neither of us willing to withdraw.

“The temperature is already rising,” Z points out in a low rumble. “If you’re out for long, you’ll burn.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’d say the heat is far less abrasive than a jostling ride in a cart. But thank you for the offer.” With my parting jab at his own heartless words, I sever our connection and turn to Grace. “I’ll see you later.”

His hostile stare burns at my back as I walk into the knee-high grass.

I can’t believe what I’ve done—thrown his words back at him like an armed grenade. He’ll know now that I overheard him, assuming he cares enough to remember what he said. Would that bother him? I haven’t the slightest clue where Zeno is concerned. All I know is that I stood up for myself, and the resulting high has me convinced I could conquer the world.

WHILE OUR PARENTS ARE AT THE VIEWING, US GIRLS GO HOME TO QUICKLY CLEAN UP AND CHANGE. There’s not time for much, but I’m able to rinse off, fix my hair in some semblance of an updo, and add a thick layer of smoky eye shadow to make my blue eyes pop. After I dab on an extra coat of mascara, I slip on one of Gia’s dresses and a pair of heels since I didn’t bring anything appropriate to wear. We’re close enough in size that it works.

Several guests are milling about when we return to the De Rossi house. Gia and I go directly to the kitchen to check on Cecelia and the food preparation, not that there is any concern. Mrs. De Rossi wanted us to participate as guests and not employees, so everything was kept simple—finger foods and self-service for the most part. We’ll keep an eye on the food and bring out more when needed while still getting to visit with other guests. My parents, in particular, will appreciate the chance to catch up with people they haven’t seen in years. According to my mother, Mrs. De Rossi had initially suggested bringing in caterers, but Gia and Cecelia jumped in and refused before Mom could get out her acceptance. Hosting Silvano’s closest friends and family was their way of paying respects, as they explained it, which sounds just like Gia. I have no complaints. I’d prefer to have responsibilities because they give me an excuse to escape any small talk.

Once everything is set out and ready on the plaza outside, I wander back inside as Nevio De Rossi slips through the front door. While Zeno is rigid strength with sandy hair and shards of blue ice for eyes, Nevio is relaxed charisma shining from beneath espresso eyes and a single perfect dimple. He’s rarely at his parents’ house, so I’ve only run into him a couple of times through the years. He hasn’t changed much from his youth, as far as I can tell. Nevio was the idea man.