Heat and desire from her nemesis. Now that was a real recipe for disaster.

While she waited, something caught her eye. Not the faded old mural of the sea, or the creepy philosopher busts, or the checkerboarded tablecloths. In a standing cabinet near the cash register was a sizable trophy. And she knew exactly what it was for.

She snuck over to get a closer look. There, safe behind glass, among a bunch of restaurant awards, was a big gold statue of a woman with wings, standing triumphantly on the top of a dark wooden base. At the bottom, the plaque read Leonides Leonardo Castorini, Valedictorian.

Ouch.

After all these years. Still ouch.

0.0004. That’s how close she’d come to having a different life.

She sat back down at the table just as Leo returned with two wineglasses and a bottle of white that he opened smoothly and expertly poured.

“Salute,” he said, lifting his glass. He was all polished grace, as if he should be drinking on a patio overlooking the cliffs of Lake Cuomo instead of in a tiny Indiana town, in an old Italian restaurant with vinyl tablecloths and a marble bust of some guy with no pupils staring at them from the shelf.

“À ta santé,” she returned.

He lifted a thick, well-groomed brow as they clinked glasses.

Tessa swirled her glass and inhaled the rich essence before she took a sip. It was smooth and went down easy, definitely not something you’d buy at a drug store for a late-night college run. “It’s sweet,” she said.

He sat back, his tall, lean body relaxing into the booth. “It’s a dessert wine. Moscato. One of my dad’s favorites, and tonight, it’s on the house.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I need this just as much as you do,” he said, his exhaustion and frustration clearly weighing down every word.

“All right, um. Thank you.” She took another sip and then sighed, setting her glass down. “The upscale grocery chain that buys our bread is changing ownership, and they’ve dropped our account.”

He nodded in sympathy. “I’m sorry about that. The restaurant is barely breaking even, yet my dad refuses to try anything new. It’s like he’s stuck in the nineties.”

She let the fizzy, fruity taste of the wine dance on her tongue. It was delicious, but she doubted it was strong enough to take the edge off her nerves, which were practically galloping at this point.

Suddenly, she felt vibrations emanating from the floor. Like when you’re in church and the little kid behind you keeps kicking the pew.

She peeked under the table to find Leo’s leg bouncing rapidly. Mr. Fair, Sunny, and Easygoing was as nervous as she was.

He’s human.