“Yeah.” Her cheeks pinken a little. “How are you? I heard you’re working for your dad.”
“I’m good,” I say, keeping my tone neutral even as bitterness works its way through me. “And yup, I’m an auto mechanic in my dad’s shop.”My greatest ambition.
Internally, I shake off the frustration. My dad doesn’t deserve my ire. I’m the only one to blame for the car accident that tore my shoulder apart and killed my dreams.
For a while, I distracted myself from the pain, regret, and anger with weed and pills, but I’ve been clean for six months. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m over the disappointment.
But I have a new dream, and that keeps me pushing forward, keeps me from falling back into old habits.
I get up every day and work my ass off to gain experience and earn money so I can eventually open a custom bike shop with my buddy Miles. Dad respects that, and he kind of even showed interest when I explained the idea.Talk to me when you have a business plan, he said when I mentioned the concept of staying tied to his auto shop but branching out.
“That’s great. Even when you were in high school, you were my papa’s favorite mechanic.”
I laugh. “Matteo is too kind. Tell him I’m always happy to take care of his car.”
“Thanks.”
With a nod, I pour myself a glass of water. Only once it’s full and I’ve turned the tap off do I turn to the Ashtons. I’ve just taken a sip when the sight of them registers. Suddenly, my throat spasms strangely, and I choke. My eyes water, and it’s difficult to suck in air. I’m still hacking when Chiara hops off the stool and slaps me hard on the back.
“Better?” she asks when I’ve finally caught my breath.
I nod hastily, embarrassment rushing over me. Every eye in the room is fixed on me. Setting the glass on the countertop, I inhale deeply then slowly let it out. Eventually, I compose myself, but only on the surface. Inside? It’s a fucking hurricane.
Becausedamn.
Jet-black hair in a high ponytail. Sharp cheekbones. A pert nose. Deep blue eyes that glimmer brightly in the sunshinefiltering in through the windows of the breakfast nook—it all practically bowls me over. Her full lips are slightly parted as she watches me. I literally force myself to hold her gaze to keep from checking her out…because the pjs she’s wearing leave very little to my imagination.
There’s no fucking way the girl standing beside Matt is Mia.
It can’t be.
I’ve seen pictures, for fuck’s sake, and she didnotlook like this.
“Hi, Dom,” she says, her voice sending a shiver down my spine. “It’s nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Hey. You too. You look great.” I clear my throat, instantly wishing I could rewind time and keep that comment to myself. Dammit. “I mean, you’ve grown so much.”
Kill me.
“Thanks.” She chuckles, eyeing Chiara. “We just finished breakfast and are headed back upstairs, but if you want to eat”—she juts her thumb to her left—“I made extra pancakes.”
“You cooked?” Matt asks.
“Of course. You know how much I like to.”
“Yeah…I still remember your lasagna.” The words leave my mouth before I can even consider what I’m saying.
She frowns, a deep wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.
“It was delicious,” I add, as if that will make things better.
“Didn’t think you’d remember…but again, thank you.” She looks at Matt and then at Chiara. “Chia, you ready?”
“Sure. We have a lot to unpack,” Chiara murmurs.
“You’ve been home for almost twenty-four hours, and you haven’t unpacked?” Matt asks. “That’s not like you at all, Mia.”
Chiara chuckles. “That’s not what I mean.”
