Free Down to Business (Business Series) by J.C. Alexander

me as he caught me staring. The corner of his lips pulled into a smile. “You okay?”
    “Yeah, just enjoying the view,” I blurted. “I mean, the view…outside.”
    He laughed and a burst of heat flushed over my face.
    “I’m gonna to call in an order at Dino’s Pizza for my uncle. Did you want anything?”
    “No thanks, I already had dinner.”
    “You don’t look like it. You’re a toothpick.” He dialed a number into his phone with his thumb while he steered with his opposite hand.
    “I eat a lot actually,” I defended.
    “Hey Mike. It’s Vinny,” he said into the phone. “I need a twelve inch meatball sub with extra sauce, and an order of spaghetti with meat balls. I’ll be by in a few to pick it up. Yeah, thanks, bye.”
    He set his phone into the cup holder between us and shifted gears. “Do you like spaghetti?”
    “Yeah...I like it. Why?” I answered hesitantly.
    “Because I can’t finish a whole order of spaghetti alone,” he said with a wink.
    No way. There was no way I was eating spaghetti in front of him. Spaghetti was a lot like ribs; messy and reserved only for friends and family.
    I laughed at him and shook my head. “I’m not eating spaghetti with you.”
    “Why not?” he asked as if I was crazy.
    “Because!”
    “Because why?” he asked, smirking.
    “Just because…” I said looking away with a smile.
    “Because isn’t a reason.”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    “That answer I’ll accept,” he said with a grin, making me laugh.
    It only took a few minutes to get to Dino’s Pizzeria. Vinny left me in the car while he went inside to get the food. He returned a couple minutes later and handed me a white transparent bag that held a metal container full of spaghetti and meatballs, a sub rolled in white paper, and garlic bread wrapped in tinfoil. Just smelling the food made my mouth water.
    “This smells so good,” I mentioned as he got back into the car.
    “Yeah it’s good, but it’s not as good as ours.”
    “Ours?”
    “Yeah, my family owns an Italian restaurant in Manhattan called Mazzolas.”
    ‘Oh yeah, Lindy told me that,” I said, placing the food on the floorboard between my feet.
    “We serve only the best Italian food,” he bragged.
    “My family owns a bar and grill called Malones.”
    “Oh yeah? Where at?”
    “Upstate…in Hamilton, where I am from.”
    “Nice. I was wondering where you were from. I could tell you weren’t from around here.”
    What the hell did that mean? Maybe I really did look like an upstate farmer .
    “I’m majoring in Business Management, so I can take it over someday.”
    “I’m doing the same thing with Mazzolas. I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it.”
    “Me too,” I laughed, feeling relieved I wasn’t the only one. We smiled at one another and my heart fluttered. We had something in common. It was nice to finally have someone understand my point of view.
    We passed the hospital he told me about and pulled into the parking lot of the assisted living home. I was impressed by how nice and new the four-story building looked with its fresh yellow siding, large bay windows, and covered valet in front.
    Vinny pulled up to the curbside valet and passed the attendant his keys. I climbed out with the food bag, being extra careful not to tip it.
    Vinny met me at the curb and relieved me of the bag, then motioned for me to head through the automatic sliding glass doors that read Morning Glory Assisted Living in white script.
    An open lobby awaited us with a hint of fresh paint smell. It had a lot of plush sofas and sitting areas with paintings on all four walls depicting ocean vistas. A curved desk sat front and center with a plump woman operating it. She looked bored as she filed her nails and snapped her gum. She had so much hair she couldn’t quite get it all pulled back into a clip. Instead, it rested in a rumpled black heap on her head.
    “Hey Dina,” Vinny said when we stepped up to the desk.
    “Hey Vinny,”