Page 19 of Spell Ya Later

I turn toward the sound.

Approaching us is a tiny woman who must be Nonna Ricci. I’d bet all the money I don’t have on it. She’s wearing a white chef’s coat slathered in old red sauce stains and her gray hair is up in a hairnet. Her arms are open, already anticipating a hug.

Noah shoots me a smile as if to say “whoops” and scrambles his long limbs out of his chair to stand and embrace her. I suppress a chuckle at their height difference. In paying attention to his lankiness—what up, Octopus Daddy—I’ve accidentally ignored his height. I can’t even guesstimate, but he seems to clear six feet with inches to spare.

“Who is this?” The question from Nonna Ricci is accompanied by an elbow nudge into Noah’s side.

I stand, because I’m apparently meeting Noah’s surrogate grandmother now. I’m prepared for this. Totally.

“I’m Hazel, it’s nice to meet you.” Before I can stick a hand out, I’m swept into a bone-crushing hug. I’m much closer to her height, so I’m not breaking my back in half like Noah was.

“I’m Nonna Ricci—and I am so pleased to meet you, Hazel. Noah hasn’t brought anyone home before.”

“Nonna!” Noah’s face is bright-ass red.

Is it bad that I’m okay with it? Considering how red I’ve been in the two interactions we’ve had, it’s about damn time he gets embarrassed. Plus, he’s somehow even more attractive when he’s embarrassed.

Nonna just grins at me, patting my shoulder. “I hope you enjoy the food. I’ll talk to you later, Angelo.”

“Angelo?” I ask as Noah and I sit back down.

“Angel. She calls Benji and I that.”

If anything cuter happens on this date, I think I’m actually going to self combust. I’m a witch, I could probably do it.

Noah insistson paying the bill, despite me trying to pay for myself. It’s only after that I remember I haven’t been paid yet.

Thank God chivalry isn’t dead.

With a wave to Nonna Ricci—plus at least five to-go boxes for her “Angelo”—Noah escorts me out with a hand on the small of my back.

“I had a really nice time, Hazel,” Noah says as we walk to my car.

“I did, too. Thank you for inviting me. I think I may be full for days.” That’s such a lie. I’ll be craving ice cream by the time I get home.

“Nonna Ricci’s pasta can’t be beat. Everyone should experience it at least once.”

I laugh, rubbing my arms. I wish I’d brought a light jacket. “It better not be the last time I get her food. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at alfredo the same way again.”

His eyes—almost midnight-black in the autumn evening—regard me as if I’ve said something momentous. “I hope it’s not. I hope you come back.”

I stop in front of my car and turn to him. The air grows thicker with each breath until it’s like I’m suffocating in his gaze. He’s pulled in by invisible strings, until my back is against the vehicle and his body is so close a buzz simmers underneath my skin like a gentle tickle.

“I’ll come back.” The words seem so much louder in the quiet bubble we’ve fallen into.

Noah’s hand grasps mine, the electric current almost familiar—comforting—now, and brings it to his lips. The gentle rasp ofhis stubble contrasts the smoothness of his lips as they press against my skin.

Legs? I don’t have legs. I just have jelly. Thank God I’m pressed against this car or I would’ve fallen down.

“I’ll call you?” he asks, keeping my hand in his.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“Goodnight, Hazel. Let me know you got home safely, okay?”

I nod again, vigorously. Embarrassingly vigorously. Just like I do everything. Just call me Hot Mess Hazel.

Chapter 6