Page 15 of Above ’N’ Beyond

“Careful,” Jimmy warned, crouching beside her, several kitchen towels now draped over his thick forearm. “He may be small, but he can still bite, and he could have rabies.”

“I know.” She set the plate on the floor and picked up a piece of gnocchi. “Easy there, little one.” She held the pasta closer, just in front of its mouth. The dog’s nostrils flared, then it stretched its neck and snatched the dumpling from Bella’s hand. When it was done chewing and swallowing, she held out another piece, which it grabbed from her fingertips with equal relish.

Jimmy chuckled. “He’s quite the foodie, isn’t he?”

As close as he was, Bella smelled Jimmy’s aftershave or cologne or whatever it was that cut through the scents of garlic, herbs, and rich meat sauce.

Citrus? Mint? Lemons? No.

Clean. Fresh. Crisp, and with a tiny hint of some indefinable spice. Whatever the scent was, it suited him.

She held out another gnocchi, this one loaded with bits of meat. The dog needed the nourishment. She hoped all the rich food wouldn’t make it sick, however. “How do you know it’s a he?”

Jimmy turned to her, arching a dark brow. “It’s a guy thing. Trust me. It’s a he.”

Piercing, dark brown eyes held her gaze, and she couldn’t look away. There really was something so mesmerizing about him.

Heat crept to her face, and she quickly returned her focus to the dog. She had to quit staring at the man.

Pete returned with the jug of bleach and a mop and began wiping down the counters.

Jimmy glanced over his shoulder. “We’d better get him out of here before Lou decides to make the next batch of Bolognese out of him.” He canted his head to the dog, who stood then shook, sending bits of dirt and sauce in every direction.

She elbowed Jimmy’s arm, the muscles of which were rock hard. “Don’t say that. He’ll hear you.”

The dog burped, a loud, reverberating sound that had no business coming from so small an animal.

At the same time, Bella and Jimmy burst into laughter, his rich and deep and for some idiotic reason reminding her of equally rich and highly caloric chocolate ganache. She’d only been seriously dieting for a week, and already she was craving the stuff.

She glanced at the clock over their heads. Less than ninety minutes until the doors opened for dinner, and now she had to deal with this pesky little canine problem. “I really don’t have time for this. What am I going to do with him?”

“Want me to bring him to a shelter?”

“No!” She glared at Jimmy, surprised at the adamancy of her response.

“Are you sure? I could find a no-kill shelter.”

Bella looked back at the dog, who’d lain down again, curled tightly in the corner, his eyes beginning to close. Her heart squeezed. The dog was alone. No family, or if he had one, they’d abandoned him. Then again, did she really have the time to take on the responsibility of a dog? No. Could she really offer it the kind of love and support it needed? Probably not. Maybe not.

The dog let out a tiny whimper.

Bella groaned. I am such a sucker. “I can’t bring him to a shelter. He came here for help, and I won’t abandon him.” Because she knew exactly what that felt like. To essentially be abandoned by one’s own family.

“Okay, then.” Jimmy inched closer to the sleeping dog, gently wrapping the towels around its body, then holding it in the crook of his arm. Still, the dog slept, snoring softly. Jimmy stood, smiling down at the animal as if he were looking at a swaddled baby. His baby.

For that matter, what did she really know about Jimmy Santoro? He could very well be married, with five little bambinos and a bambina on the way.

“Where do you want me to put him?” he asked.

“Um.” She cleared her throat, then glanced at the clock again. “I don’t have time to do anything with him right now, but we can set him up in one of the closets in the back. Follow me.”

Bella led the way to a small closet by the back door of the Bistro, which was slightly ajar, probably how the gluttonous little intruder had snuck in. She opened the closet door, then flipped on the light.

“How about that empty box and some of those linens?” Jimmy asked.

She turned to find him rocking the dog in his arms, again reminding her of a father with his newborn. “Good idea.”

In no time, she had the floor of the closet cleared and had stuffed a large cardboard box with a tablecloth bunched up for cushioning. “Here. I’ll take him.”