“Better than smelling like sex.”
A smirk curved on his lips. “That happens to be one of my favorite scents.”
Out of my purse, I produced some hand sanitizer. As he eyed me suspiciously, I patted one of my hands over his mouth and cheeks like aftershave. “Ow! That burns like hell,” he whined.
“Yeah, well, I know sex is one of your favorite smells, but I’m not going in a restaurant with you if you’re smelling like sex and…” I trailed off, not wanting to say the word.
“Pussy?” he questioned.
With a grimace, I replied. “Yes.”
“Whatever.”
Cocking my head at him, I asked, “So sex isn’t your top scent, huh?”
He shrugged. “Nah, probably Top Five. I gotta give props to some others like my drum set and my abuela’s tamales.”
“Speaking of tamales, are we eating Mexican tonight?”
“Actually, we’re eating at my favorite Italian restaurant. I figured with you being Sicilian, you’d probably like that.”
“I do.”
“Then for dessert, we’re going down the block to my favorite Mexican café. They make Flan that melts in your mouth. It’s fucking fabulous.”
I shuddered as an eerie feeling came over me. No, it couldn’t be. Out of all the restaurants in the entire city, it couldn’t be possible that AJ had picked my family’s restaurant to eat at. But then again what were the odds of an Italian and Mexican place on the same street? “Where are we eating?”
“Mama Sofia’s. You know it?”
I gulped down the rising bile in my throat. “Yeah, it’s my dad’s.”
My eyes widened at Mia’s revelation. “You’re shitting me.”
“Sadly, I’m not.”
Glancing from her to the building, I shook my head. “Why do you look so upset? Mama Sofia’s is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s one helluva gold mine for your family I bet.”
“Yes, it is,” she replied modestly.
“Seriously, Mia, this place is awesome—I mean, not only is the food amazing, but everyone who works there is fabulous. You come from good people.”
“Thanks.”
Then it hit me. “Wait a minute. You’re Duke’s daughter?”
Mia paled a little further. “Yes.”
“Fuck me, this is intense.”
“I guess this means besides being a connoisseur of Italian food, you’re also a traitor to your culture by liking American football?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say it like that. But come on, your dad’s a legend around these parts.”
With a shadow of a smile, Mia replied, “Not to mention his face is plastered all over the back wall of the restaurant.”
“And for good reason.” Enzo aka ‘Duke’ Martinelli had been one of the best wide receivers the Atlanta Falcons had back in the late 70’s and early 80’s. An injury had taken him out of the professional football arena, so after spending a few years teaching and coaching, he’d started a restaurant on the side with his parents. That had grown into what was now Mama Sofia’s. I’d gotten the lowdown one night when after casually asking to meet Duke, he came out and had dinner with me. “Your dad is amazing.”
“Wait, you know, know him?”
“Oh yeah.”
Bringing her hand to her forehead, Mia leaned back against the seat. “This is a nightmare.”
“It shouldn’t be. He really likes me.”
Mia closed her eyes. “Even worse,” she said in a whisper.
Benny interrupted us by knocking on the door. “Ready sir?”
After I nudged her, I gave Mia an encouraging smile. “Come on, I’m starving. You made me work up one helluva an appetite.”