The Vineyards Of Calanetti. Rebecca Winters
Granted, he’d chosen a great spot for the initial Mancini’s. He’d fixed the building to perfection. But a restaurant in the city came with different challenges.
Having lived in New York and eaten at several different kinds of restaurants, she saw things from a customer’s point of view. And she knew exactly how she’d set up Mancini’s Rome restaurant.
She knew.
The confidence of it made her forget all about returning to New York, and stand tall. She entered the kitchen on her way to the office, carrying a satchel filled with pictures she’d printed off the internet the night before using Louisa’s laptop.
This was her destiny.
Then she saw Rafe entering through the back door and her heart tumbled. He wore the black leather jacket. He hadn’t pulled his hair into the tie yet and it curled around his collar. His eyes were cool, serious. When their gazes met, she swore she could feel the weight of his sadness.
She didn’t understand what the hell he had to be sad about. He was getting everything he wanted. Except her heart. He didn’t know that he already had her love, but their good trip the day before proved they could work together, even be friends, and he should appreciate that.
Everything would be perfect, as long as he didn’t kiss her. Or tempt her. And yesterday he’d all but proven he needed her too much to risk losing her.
“I have pictures of things I’d like your opinion on.”
Emory looked from one to the other. “Pictures?”
Rafe slowly ambled into the kitchen. “Dani has ideas for the restaurant in Rome.”
Emory gaped at him. “Who cares? You have a hundred-person wedding tomorrow afternoon.”
Dani’s mouth fell open. Rafe’s eyes widened. “We didn’t cancel that?”
“We couldn’t,” Emory replied before Dani said anything, obviously taking the heat for it. “So I called the bride’s mother yesterday and got the specifics. Tomorrow morning, we’ll all come here early to get the food prepared. In the afternoon Dani and I will go to the wedding. I will watch your food, Chef Mancini. Your reputation will not suffer.”
Rafe slowly walked over to Dani. “You know we cannot do this again!”
“Come on, Chef Rafe.” She smiled slightly, hoping to dispel the tension, again confused over why he was so moody. “Put Mr. Mean Chef away. I got the message the day you fired me over this.” With that she strode into the office, dumped her satchel on the desk and swung out again. She thought of the plane ticket in her pocket and reminded herself that in two days she wouldn’t have that option. When he yelled, she’d have to handle it.
“I’ll be in the dining room, checking with Allegra on how things went yesterday.”
* * *
Rafe sagged with defeat as she stormed out. He shouldn’t have yelled at her again about the catering, but everything in his life was spinning out of control. He saw babies in his sleep and woke up hugging his pillow, dreaming he was hugging Daniella. The logical part of him insisted they were a team, that a real relationship would enhance everything they did. They would own Mancini’s together, build it together, build a life together.
The other part, the part that remembered Kamila, could only see disaster when the relationship ended. When Kamila left, he could return to his dream. If Dani left, she took half of his dream with her.
He faced Emory. “I appreciate how you have handled this. And I apologize for exploding.” He sucked in a breath. “As penance, I will go to the wedding tomorrow.”
Emory laughed. “If you’re expecting me to argue, you’re wrong. I don’t want to be a caterer, either.”
“As I said, this is penance.”
“Then you really should be apologizing to Dani. It was her you screamed at.”
He glanced at the door as he shrugged out of his jacket. She was too upset with him now. And she was busy. He would find a minute at the end of the night to apologize for his temper. If he was opting out of a romance because he needed her, he couldn’t lose her over his temper.
But she didn’t hang around after work that night. And the next morning, he couldn’t apologize because they weren’t alone. First, he’d cooked with a full staff. Then he’d had to bring Laz and Gino, two of the busboys, to the wedding to assist with setup and teardown. They drove to the vineyard in almost complete silence, every mile stretching Rafe’s nerves.
Seeing the sign for 88 Vineyards, he turned down the winding lane. The top of a white tent shimmered in the winter sun. Thirty yards away, white folding chairs created two wide rows of seating for guests. He could see the bride and groom standing in front of the clergyman, holding hands, probably saying their vows.
He pulled the SUV beside the tent. “It looks like we’ll need to move quickly to get everything set up for them to eat.”
Dani opened her door of the SUV. “Not if there are pictures. I’ve known brides who’ve taken hours of pictures.”
“Bah. Nonsense.”
Ignoring him, she climbed out of the SUV.
Rafe opened his door and recessional music swelled around him. Still Dani said nothing. Her cold shoulder stung more than he wanted to admit.
A quick glance at the wedding ceremony netted him the sight of the bride and groom coming down the aisle. The sun cast them in a golden glow, but their smiles were even more radiant. He watched as the groom brought the bride’s hand to his lips. Saw the worship in his eyes, the happiness, and immediately Rafe thought of Daniella. About the times he’d kissed her hand. Walked her to her car. Waited with bated breath for her arrival every morning.
He reached into his SUV to retrieve a tray of his signature ravioli. Handing it to Laz, he sneaked a peek at Daniella as she made her way to the parents of the bride, who’d walked out behind the happy couple. They smiled at her, the bride’s mom talking a million words a second as she pointed inside the tent. Daniella set her hand on the mom’s forearm and suddenly the nervous woman calmed.
He watched in heart-stealing silence. A lifetime of rejection had taught her to be kind. And one failed romance had made him mean. Bitter.
As he pulled out the second ravioli tray, Dani walked over.
“Apparently the ceremony was lovely.”
“Peachy.”
“Come on. I know you’re mad at me for arranging this. But at the time, I didn’t know any better and in a few hours all of this will be over.”
He sucked in a breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m angry with myself—” Because I finally understand I’m not worried about you leaving me, or even losing my dreams. I’m disappointed in myself “—for yelling at you yesterday.”
“Oh.” She smiled slowly. “Thanks.”
The warm feeling he always got when she smiled invaded every inch of him. “You’re welcome.”
Not waiting for him to say anything else, she headed inside the white tent where the dinner and reception would be held. He followed her only to discover she was busy setting up the table for the food. He and Laz worked their magic on the warmers he’d brought to keep everything the perfect temperature. Daniella and Gino brought in the remaining food.
And nothing happened.
People milled around the tables in the tent, chatting, celebrating the marriage. Wine flowed from fancy bottles. The mother of the bride socialized. The parents of the groom walked from table to table. A breeze billowed around the tent as everyone talked and laughed.
He stepped outside, nervous now. He’d never considered himself wrong, except that he’d believed giving up apprenticeships for Kamila had made him weak. But setback after setback had made