Seduced by Stratton (The English Brothers Book 4) (18 page)

“Sure.”

“Are you my girlfriend?”

Val took a deep breath, turning to look at him. “We’re dating, Joe.”

“Well, I’m only dating
you
. And you’re only dating
me
. By definition, I think that makes us exclusive, Val. Not to mention, I’m taking you to that wedding next weekend. I’d like your permission to start calling you my girlfriend.”

She concealed a wince by turning to look out the window. She’d asked him to take her to Daisy and Fitz’s wedding in a weak moment, but she regretted it more every day. The second she asked him, Joe had really turned up the pressure on their fledgling relationship, but honestly, Valeria should have known better. She knew enough about Joe to know that he was a very typical Italian man, and having an “open” dating relationship was not something he would be comfortable with for long. He was increasingly possessive, and she had to own up to the fact that she’d contributed to his misunderstanding of their relationship.

Still, she tried to backpedal. “I thought we were—”

“Taking it slow? We take it any slower we’ll turn into turtles, honey.”

She knew this was true too. They’d barely done more than kiss, and while Joe had been very respectful when she pushed his wandering hands away, she knew he was impatient to make their relationship official and take things to the next level, both emotionally and physically.

“Val, maybe I haven’t made this clear, but I’m crazy about you. I look ahead, and I see myself with you. I see us together. You know . . . long-term. It just makes sense. You and I make sense.”

“Joe, I—”

“Hear me out. I like that you’re smart, and I admire that you’ve gotten a great education. And I know you want to be a teacher, and I think you’ll be a great one someday. All those little faces looking up at you, waiting to learn something special. I’ve seen you with Carolina’s kids. You’re a natural. I’d never stand in the way of your dreams or anything. And I’d just . . . I mean, I’d just like to know that you see me in your future too.”

He’d never stand in the way of her dreams? He didn’t even seem to know what her dreams were! He saw her as an elementary school teacher?
What?
She would graduate UPenn with a Ph.D. in Early-American courtship practices and—and teach
third graders
? What the
heck
?

While she had great respect for teachers of every level and vocation, Valeria had no interest in teaching small children. She aspired to a professorship. Her ideal life would be spent steeped in a college or university, with students coming and going from her house to have academic discussions. Teach little children? That wasn’t on her radar at all. How in the world had he so misunderstood her plans for the future?

Joe pulled into a parking space at her father’s restaurant and cut the engine, resting his hands on the wheel, but looking over at her, waiting for her answer.

“Joe, I think you might be—”

“Jumping the gun? I’m not, Val. I know how I feel. I want to make it official.”

“There’s a lot we still need to learn about each other,” she protested softly, trying to be gentle. “We’ve only been dating for a short while, and I think—”

“Two weeks. Two weeks last night,” he said tenderly, reaching for her hand. “Which is why I’d like to make it official tonight. That we’re a couple. That we’re together. Your mother didn’t mention it to you, but she invited my par—”

A knock on Val’s window made her jump, and she dropped Joe’s hand to crack open the door. Her oldest sister, Carolina, stood beside the car holding the hands of her two children.

“Val, you’re here! Thank God! You’re not picking up your phone?”

“It died at the game.”

“Oh! Listen, I just got paged—I have to go in to work. Can you take Rosie and Michael inside for me and explain to Mama and Papa?
Per favore?
They can stay at Mama’s tonight.”

Carolina thrust two little hands at Val, and Val took them gratefully as her sister hurried away. She loved her niece and nephew at all times, but their interruption was especially timely today. She didn’t want to hurt Joe, but the only strong feeling she had after this conversation was the desperate need to figure out a way to break things off with him. The sooner, the better.

She swung her jean-clad legs out of the car. “Hey guys. Want to go to dinner with your Zia?”

“Yeah!” Enthusiastic little voices were joined by the sound of affectionate chuckling from behind Val. She looked over to see Joe leaning on the shiny roof of the car with both elbows, and if possible, his tender expression had become even dreamier.

“You’re a natural, Zia
Valeria.”

Slightly creeped out, and further convinced she needed to end things with Joe before he got her pregnant just from the look in his eyes, she gave him an awkward smile before turning toward the restaurant with her niece and nephew. “What’re you two having tonight?”

“Spaghetti! Lasagna!”

She felt Joe’s hand on the small of her back, and his low voice in her ear. “I’m telling you, Val. You and me and a couple of these. It just makes sense.”

Whipping her eyes to him, she was about to tell him they were finished when her mother, Francesca, swung open the restaurant door, standing side-by-side with Joe’s mother, Dina.

Both mothers broke into wide smiles at the sight of the small group that approached them. Joe with his arm around Val’s waist, and Val holding the children’s hands. Dina smiled at Francesca and Francesca smiled back, and Valeria groaned because she was fairly certain that they’d just chosen wedding invitations by that shared smile.

It was going to be a very long evening.

***

Stratton picked up his pace as he circled the block for the sixth time. He’d strenuously considered getting a little drunk before crashing the Campanile’s Saturday evening dinner, but he knew that would be the coward’s way. He wasn’t a coward. According to Kate, he was a warrior on a mission of love. Except he didn’t feel very much like a warrior. He felt completely out of his element and almost-excruciatingly uncomfortable.

Stratton didn’t especially like social gatherings in his
own
world, where balls, benefits, and fundraisers were the norm. He didn’t like the crush of people, the inane conversation, or having to wear a tux. But, mostly, he just felt awkward in large groups of people. So, entering a social gathering in Val’s unknown world, uninvited—for all intents and purposes—and solely for the purpose of trying to win back the woman he loved by declaring his feelings for her in public? His heart raced, and his stomach flipped over. Discomfort Central.

And yet.

Something—a very small something he’d just as soon ignore—appealed to him about publicly proclaiming his feelings. Stratton fell for women very hard and fast as a rule: he fell for Amy during their first conversation, and he fell for Val over the course of a weekend when he was trying like hell
not
to fall for her. But actually sharing his feelings? That was a whole different ballgame. For the two years he’d pined after Amy, with deep and intensely real feelings, he’d never had the courage to tell her how he felt or actually make a move on her.

He didn’t want that to happen with Valeria, and if anything, her aunt’s words this afternoon about regret seemed custom-made for his ears. Even though he was glad he and Amy hadn’t worked out in the long run, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to miss out on being with Val because he was too chickenshit to let her know he cared for her.

Rounding the corner of the block where Campanile’s Cucina was located, his heart sped up. He was anxious, yes, but he was also excited. He’d missed Valeria terribly since their weekend together. He’d relived every moment—the movie, their dance, the kiss, watching her study, waking up beside her—and not a second had passed since the Monday morning she walked away that he didn’t regret letting her go. He only prayed, as he opened the door to her family’s aromatic, festive restaurant, that it wasn’t too late.

“Table for one?” asked the hostess with a flirtatious smile that faded when she noticed the roses. “Oh. You’re meeting someone?”

“I was invited to the, uh, the Campanile family dinner.”

“Oh! You with Toni? She said she met someone at that conference a few weeks ago.”

“No. I don’t know Toni.”

“Well, Caro’s working, Angie’s with Danny, and Val’s with Joey. That leaves . . . Gina? You don’t look like Gina’s type.”

“Good chance I’m not, then,” he said, ignoring her unsubtle request for more information.

“Hmm,” she huffed, the friendliness in her eyes fading. “Go to the back of the restaurant and take the stairs right before the kitchen.”

“Thanks.”

She flicked her eyes to the roses and smirked. “Good luck.”

Stratton steeled his jaw, his nerves making his movements stiff and ungraceful as he wound between the red and white checked tables where patrons feasted on traditional Italian food. Candles placed in empty wine bottles burned brightly, and Frank Sinatra sang “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” over the loudspeaker. He’d listened to the song over and over again since he and Val had danced to it. That had to be a good omen, right?

Finally making it back to the kitchen, he pushed open the basement door and made his way down the red and green painted steps. His footsteps slowed as he listened to the loud din of voices and laughter, and reminded himself that well over thirty people would be interrupted from their dinner when he suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs. He stopped a few steps from the bottom and clenched his eyes shut, but popped them open with determination a moment later.

Uncomfortable or not, you’re
doing
this.

The thought propelled him down onto a landing. Two more steps found him on the parquet of the basement floor.

Surprisingly, and much to his relief, nobody noticed him at first. A forty or fifty foot table spanned the room diagonally, with long benches on either side. People of all ages were eating and drinking, laughing and chattering, in English and Italian. Two men sitting side by side at the end of the table were arguing, and a little boy beside them snuck a sip of his father’s wine. There were hands in the air, gregarious bursts of laughter, and food platters moving near constantly between the family members. He’d never been to such a gathering before, and if his mission hadn’t been bearing down on him, he would have stopped to appreciate the hominess of it. No one was over-dressed, cautious of their tone or quietly sipping scotch. It looked casual and lively, loving and comfortable. It looked like fun.

Reminding himself why he was there, he started at the far end of the table, scanning the faces until he found hers, and whatever misgivings he had about coming here tonight were allayed by the sight of her face. She was smiling at a young child seated beside her as she cut up food on the little girl’s plate. A man he could only assume was Joe Conchetta sat beside her, and Stratton’s free hand curled as he realized how good-looking Joe was.

Only a third of the table had noticed Stratton at this point, but one of the third was Angelina Campanile, who jumped up to greet him. “Stratton!”

She said his name just loud enough to get the attention of the one person he was desperate to speak to, and Val’s head whipped up, brown eyes wide as she met his blue. She gasped, then quickly smiled, her heart-shaped face lighting up with happiness. Then, suddenly, like she had reminded herself to be angry with him, her eyes shuttered, her lips pursed, and her expression cooled.

“Mrs. Campanile,” said Stratton, straightening his glasses and smoothing his tie before shaking her hand. “I want to thank you for inviting me to—”

“You
invited
him here?” demanded Val. She leapt up, cutting her eyes to her aunt, who chugged the contents of the wineglass she was holding in her hand.

The hustle, bustle, and hubbub of the room was immediately traded for curious silence as most of the family looked at Valeria, and then followed her angry gaze to Stratton, who still stood at the foot of the stairs beside her Zia.

Down at the end of the table, an older man stood up. “Angelina, Valeria, who is this man?”

“It’s ‘breakfast tea,’” scoffed Danny, sitting on a bench near Stratton.

“Shut up,” said Val, narrowing her eyes at Danny.

“Yeah, Danny. Call him something more appropriate,” chimed in Joe, standing and putting his arm around Val. “Like ‘asshole.’”

“
Stai zitto, Giuseppe
!” cried Dina, standing up beside Val’s father, and clapping her hands around the ears of a small child beside her. “The children! I don’t raise you to use this language!”

“Zia Dina,” said Danny. “Joey’s got it right. This one’s a
stronzo
.”

Stratton turned to Danny. “If
anyone’s
a
st-stron
—”

“
Basta
!” thundered Val’s father, holding up his hands. He pointed at Joe, then Danny, then Stratton. “You all three going to shut up your mouths now. There are ladies and
bambini
here.” He turned to Val, poking his stubby finger in her direction. “You answer me, Valeria.
Chi è questo uomo
?”