A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR Read Free

paid off. His business grew and grew and now he had a bunch of guys working for him.
     
    “Thanks,” Anthony replied and much to my surprise seemed almost embarrassed by the compliment.
     
    I suppose it was because he had grown up without ever having the praise of a father. I couldn’t imagine not having my father around, even if he did drive me crazy more often than not.
     
    “I’ll bet the restaurant is jam-packed with customers today,” I said, wanting to distract my father from any more thoughts of inviting Anthony to join us for lunch.
     
    Let’s face it, I still hadn’t forgiven Anthony for nominating me, and didn’t intend to for a very long time. Maybe even for the rest of my life. Or at least until I could come up with some way to get back at him. ‘Friendly revenge’ was an ongoing thing between us.
     
    “More customers than tables,” my father said, his face lighting up with the excitement of it all. “Now be sure and stop by.”
     
    “We─”
     
    I stabbed Anthony’s foot with the heel of my shoe, cutting him off. This time my smile was genuine. “I will, Dad.”
     
    “Great. Oh, and Gina,” he said, looking my direction, “I meant what I said. You made me very proud today.”
     
    I smiled. No matter how humiliating it had been to be paraded through town as the Sausage Queen, it really was worth any misery I had suffered to see my father beaming with happiness the way he was.
     
    “Oh, and don’t forget to swing by the cook-off tent,” he added. “You can wish your momma luck before you go home.”
     
    “I will.”
     
    My mother had entered the Little Florence sausage cook-off with her secret sauce recipe. Not one passed down through generations, but one she’d discovered by accident. A few years ago, my father had knocked the spice rack off the back of the stove, spilling several of them into the sauce she was cooking that day. As it turned out, the combination of spilt spices made a sauce their restaurant clientele went nutso over.
     
    “Tony...”
     
    “Yes, sir?”
     
    “Be sure to tell your mother we said hello. We haven’t seen much of her lately.”
     
    Anthony nodded. “I will.”
     
    “Back to work,” my father said and then walked away with a happy little skip, one my being crowned Sausage Queen had brought about. One thing I’d learned growing up in Little Florence was that Italian men were very proud men. Even in the case of my pseudo-Italian father.
     
    That warm, fuzzy, I’ve done my father proud kind of feeling lasted for all of about three seconds. Then Anthony opened his big mouth.
     
    “So what do you say we go grab a bite to eat and then you can go home and change into those cute little Daisy Dukes of yours and help me wash those windows?”
     
    “Wouldn’t you just love that?” I replied as I looked up into his big, sexy grin. Okay, so maybe I could help him wash a few...
     
    “There she is!” my best friend, Mia, squealed behind me, saving me from any more embarrassment.
     
    I’d nearly caved to that Carboni grin - again. Heck, there weren’t even any windows that needed to be cleaned. I’d made all of that up.
     
    Why couldn’t Anthony have stayed that scrawny, voice-hitching at odd moments, older kid that I adored while growing up? No, he had to go and turn into this guy with that I-got-in-too-late-the-night-before kind of voice. And chances were he had, knowing Anthony Carboni as I did.
     
    His voice wasn’t the only thing that had changed , I thought to myself as I took in those broad shoulders and muscular arms. Nope, there was nothing scrawny about Anthony Carboni anymore. The guy could wear a snug-fitting T-shirt and wear it well. Heck, any shirt for that matter.
     
    Forcing my thoughts from Anthony’s bulging biceps, I turned to find Mia and my two other best friends, Carlina and Alisa, weaving their way toward us through the float-filled parking lot.
     
    The four of us had been best friends ever since our first