Part of me wanted to tell him that the same thing had happened to Reb, and another part wanted to dig into what was bothering Quattro, but sharing led to revelations, which led to conversation and connection. Before long, if you weren’t careful, you could be staring at commitment. No, thanks. It started to drizzle, and Quattro hunched his back against the light rain, his expression stark. The misty gray light made for perfect shooting conditions. I couldn’t help breaking out my camera. What was a little impromptu photo session between new friends? So I wasn’t paying attention to the street when Quattro grabbed me hard by the arm, yanking me back to the sidewalk.
“What the—?” I started to demand angrily before a BMW rounded the corner so fast, it nearly plowed into us. The driver didn’t notice, too busy talking on his cell.
“Get off your phone!” Quattro shot at the vanishing car. Shaking his head, he loosened his grip on me. “Sorry, I hate that. You okay?”
“Whoa… we could have been hit,” I said, only now measuring the distance between us and the speeding car. Mere inches. “Oh, my gosh, you saved me.”
He breathed out, then said lightly, “Just add that to my fee.”
“I owe you breakfast, for sure.”
“And an entire box of bars.”
I could only manage a halfhearted laugh, my pulse still racing. As if he knew and wanted to calm me, Quattro asked, “Where were we?”
After thinking a moment, I said, “Your dad’s move.”
“Right. I tried to tell him that I didn’t need him ten minutes away from me.”
“So how about a father-son adventure?” I suggested before we crossed safely to the opposite corner. This time, I was careful to look both ways. “Maybe he wouldn’t feel like he needs to move with you if you did something epic together.”
Quattro’s wry smile returned from its brief vacation. “We’ve got that covered in a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah? What?”
“Machu Picchu.”
“No way! My best friend just told me she’s going there, too.”
“It’s a popular spot.”
“No kidding. My parents have always wanted to go.” As we walked under the freeway overpass, I described my parents’ Fifty by Fifty Manifesto, expeditions and photo safaris all rolled into one grand plan for an adventurous life. Machu Picchu topped their list.
“That’s such a cool idea,” he said, changing his stride so he wouldn’t walk on top of a large crack in the broken sidewalk. He didn’t strike me as someone superstitious—step on a crack, break your mother’s back and all that—but I swept the thought away to focus on what he was telling me now: “We had to cancel our trip a year and a half ago, and the tour company’s got a policy that trips need to be taken within two years. So it was use it or lose it.”
Quattro brushed his hand through his rain-dampened hair. Some inner part of me that I thought had withered from Dom’s rejection now wanted to reach for his hand. I fisted my own and thrust them deep into my jacket pockets, glad Quattro wasn’t looking at me, uncertain what he would see if he did.
Damp and hungry, we finally reached Oddfellows. Quattro’s gaze swept the brick walls, scuffed hardwood floors, and distressed tables. The scent of earthy coffee mingled with the aroma of fresh baked goods. Like half of the customers inside, the baristas and waiters wore the unofficial uniform of the Capitol Hill neighborhood: heavy army boots, funky T-shirts, and tattoos. Luckily, Quattro didn’t notice Reb playing secret service chaperone at a window table, engrossed as he was in inspecting the vintage typewriter in front of the café.
“I like this place,” he said, smiling at me.
That warm grin alone could be dangerous for a girl’s heart. I vowed to keep our banter light and frothy and completely noncommittal.
“Just wait until you taste the desserts,” I told him, pointing to the well-stocked glass case under the massive espresso machine.
After a quick but thorough glance, he said, disappointed, “There really aren’t bacon maple bars.…”
“Well, yeah, because bacon isn’t a dessert.”
“To some people it is.”
When I laughed, he refocused a hundred and ten percent back on me, as though we were the only two people here.
“Don’t worry. I know just what to order for you,” I said as I started for the register.
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” As we passed Reb’s table, she arched an eyebrow at me: What are you doing? I flushed and quickly diffused my flirtatiousness with a bland explanation: “That’s what happens when you’ve got two older brothers. Twin older brothers. Trust me, I know guys.”
Behind me, I thought I overheard Reb snickering. In case Quattro glanced her way, I drew his attention to the menu on the large chalkboard as we stood in line to order. “But on the small off chance that I might possibly be wrong—”
“Though you doubt it…”
“—you can check out what they have.”
“Nah,” he said, “I trust you.”
“Good.” So a few moments later, I ordered. “I think he’ll want the breakfast panini. Extra bacon and a side of maple syrup, please.”
He nudged my shoulder with his. “I like the way you think.”