“House white, if that’s okay with the lady,” Giorgio says, looking to me.
“Fine.” I smile at him and Alonso. “Thank you.”
He disappears in seconds, leaving us alone.
“So,” Giorgio says to fill the awkward silence, “what do you do?”
So much for his being comfortable with my carrying a gun. Like I am right now.
“I’m a private investigator,” I respond, smiling, wishing I had a wine glass to hide behind when his eyes widen. Alonso? Hello? Now would be great. “Nonna tells me you’re a police officer.”
Giorgio recovers. “In Austin. Private investigator. That’s interesting. How did you come about that?”
“I was a police officer myself, in Dallas. Let’s just say that a case I was working went very wrong and I felt some responsibility and came home.” I look away but pull myself back. “I don’t talk about it much. I loved my job as far as finding whodunit went, so private investigating is the perfect job for me.”
He smiles, and it’s kind of dazzling. “Interesting. What do you mostly work on?”
“Infidelity.” I fight my smirk when he blinks hard. “Although we were hired to locate a missing cat earlier today, so we take on a little of everything.”
“Riveting.” His dark eyes glitter across the table.
Alonso pours us two glasses of wine, leaving the bottle in an ice bucket. When he’s gone, I sip my wine slowly and meet Giorgio’s eyes.
“What do you do?”
“I work homicide,” he says slowly. “We actually received word about the poisoning case you have here.”
Indignation filters through me. If the Austin PD has been notified, it means the mayor doesn’t think the HWPD can handle it. This has only happened twice in my lifetime—and the second time, my grandfather shot the previous mayor’s front window in and the statement was retracted.
He argued it was the window or Nonna.
I’m not one to get easily riled—I’m also a chronic liar—but when someone says my brothers can’t do their jobs, I get very pissed very easily. And this, the mayor calling Austin PD to be on guard in case they’re needed less than a mile outside their jurisdiction, makes me very damn angry.
“You look angered by that,” Giorgio notes.
Observant, this one.
“I’m actually working that case.” I smile, although it’s tight. “The husband of the first victim hired me. Then his parents after him.”
“He fired you?”
“Can I take your order?” Alonso slips in, his smooth yet fake accent cutting through the tension.
I avoid the appetizer but order my main course—the same seafood pasta I always do—and hand him my menu. Once Giorgio has ordered and handed Alonso his menu, I push my hair from my face.
“Have you seen the case particulars?” I ask, noting the tic in his jaw.
“No.”
“Then I can’t discuss it, really. But, yes, for reasons given in the case files.”
“Noelle,” he says, leaning forward, his voice softening. “You seem real perturbed about me knowing about this.”
I take a deep breath and realize I’m taking my frustration over the mayor’s actions out on my date. Awkward. “I’m sorry. My brothers are on the police force here. For y’all to know about this up in Austin… It rubs me the wrong way.”
“Oh. We aren’t called in to investigate. Just to monitor the situation in case the murders leave the HWPD’s jurisdiction. Also to keep our eyes open.”
“That’s better news.” I smile more softly. “Sorry if I snapped.”
“It’s okay.” He returns the smile, this time softly touching my hand. “You’re beautiful enough to get away with it.”
I blush and turn away. So I can shoot someone but not take a compliment. It’s a serious issue in my mind. Plus—a compliment from a hot guy Nonna approves of? Blush-worthy, I tell you.
Leaving behind talk of work, we discuss our hobbies and all of that other awkward shit people do on the first date. Which is, incidentally, one reason why I hate dating. With a passion.
I discover that Gio, as he insists I call him, loves tennis. And I, well… I can hold a racket and at least attempt to serve, so I guess we kind of have that in common. He loves animals—all of them—and I can just about stand Bekah’s eight-year-old mopey-ass cat.
Alonso brings our dinner, and we continue our discovery mission. Because isn’t that what first dates are? Discovery missions? It’s where you get out all the happy, sparkly bits about yourself and leave the blackened bullshit to be discovered when the honeymoon period of the relationship is all said and done.
Gio likes cars. I like shoes. Gio likes traveling and big cities and expensive wine. I like expensive wine, but I’m done after a flight to Vegas and can only take big cities in moderation. He likes movies over books, and despite my affinity for the Bond franchise, I’m picking a paperback over a DVD case every time. Or a Kindle over a Blu-Ray.
He detests social media aside from Facebook, and my phone buzzes with a Tinder notification.
Really, we don’t have much in common. But I like him. And if the smile on his face is anything to go by, he likes me. And who needs things in common, right?
I mean, we both like guns. And each other, apparently. That’ll do.
I’m just finishing up my dinner when my phone buzzes in my purse. I ignore it only for it to ring a second time. I smile apologetically at Gio and steal a glimpse at the screen. Drake’s name flashes up, and I tuck the Samsung back in. But it buzzes for a third time.
“Shouldn’t you get that?”
I look up at Gio. “I’m sorry. I feel so rude, but I think it could be work related. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He gestures to my purse. “Take all the time you need.”
I grasp my purse, tugging my phone out with another apologetic smile to him. This time, it’s the HWPD number calling me, and I answer as I open the restaurant door.
“Noelle Bond.”
“Why the fuck are you ignorin’ my calls?”
Oh. Someone is on his man-monthly.
“Actually,” I say to Drake, “I’m busy.”
“Too busy to know I have a member of your staff brought in for questioning?”
Bolts of annoyance as fierce as lightning spear through my body. “Excuse me?”
“Marshall. He’s been seeing Portia Robinson for several weeks.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Do I sound like it?”
“I’m coming down. Don’t you dare question him until I’m there.” I hang up just as he protests, but I don’t care.
Marshall is her secret boyfriend?
I run back through the restaurant toward my table and stop in front of Gio. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe, “but I have to run to the station. The detective in charge has taken one of my staff members in for questioning and I’m about to wring his ass out.”
“Detective Nash?” Gio asks, standing. “Let me take you.” He motions for the check.
“It’s okay, really. I have my car in the lot. I’m just sorry I have to run out on you like this.”
“Don’t be silly. Let me take you down. Wait, please,” he tells Alonso. He opens the book and tucks in his card. “Return immediately, please.”
“Of course,” Alonso replies, dipping his head slightly.
I watch as he runs away with the bill then look at Gio. “Honestly. It’s okay. How much do I owe you for dinner? I can write you a check, or…”
“Noelle,” he says quietly, touching my upper arm. “Nothing. It is my treat and an honor to take you for dinner. Now, please allow me to escort you to the station where your staff member is.”
Clearly, he’s not going to take no for an answer. “Okay.”
Gio takes his card from Alonso, and with his hand on the small of my back, he guides me out of the restaurant into the balmy evening. He leads me toward a parked, navy-blue Chevvy truck in the corner and opens the door for me. He even gives me a hand getting in.
I don’t need it, but it’s kind of nice to see that gentlemen still exist. Even if this is Texas and gentlemen are supposedly the norm.
“You look like you’re ready to kick some ass,” Gio notes, climbing into the driver’s side. I guess, in retrospect, his one glass of wine to my two makes him safer to drive than me.