Dramatic, Mushy, Complicated Love by Leah Sharelle (fantasy novels to read .txt) 📕

“How come?”

Surprised by his question and interest, I thought about telling him some bullshit, but that felt wrong. I liked Luca a lot, and I wanted to explore this intense bond of chemistry between us. Feeding him crap was not a good way to start.

“I started out wanting to have two full sleeves and legs tattooed, but I kind of like leaving one side free of ink. Sort of like an explanation of who I am, I guess.” Shrugging like it was no big deal, but it really was. Not even Spring or Mum knew why I had not gotten around to doing my right side, plus they had not even asked me. I thought it funny that Luca asked, and straight away too.

“And who are you, Meadow Lavender Tessler?” Luca leaned over the table and held my gaze with an intensity I didn’t want to pull away from ever.

Biting my lip, I leaned forward too, our breaths mingling, our nose so close to touching.

“Sometimes I’m a good girl, and sometimes I’m not,” I whispered, my voice husky and flirty. This was how we were that night at the pub, two strangers not worried about last names or the worry about the truth. I liked that, but this sharing was pleasant too.

“What about your tat, Luca? From what I saw at the pub, it doesn’t look finished.”

Taking another few seconds to tease him this close, I touched the tip of my nose to his, then sat back in my seat. Secretly happy at the way his eyes hooded over for a minute before shaking his head to regain his focus.

“Yeah, I got that when I was eighteen. First time away from home, at Uni with my mates and a free man. Then I had to leave and come home after six months, and the tattoo is an unfinished project that will most likely remain that way.”

Intrigued by his tone as he told me his story, I couldn’t help surmise that Luca did not want to come home or was all that happy about it.

“You don’t sound too pleased you had to go. What made you leave?” Taking the menu off the table, I opened the leather binder and absently surveyed the food available while waiting for Luca to answer. When I got to the mains section and realised that he was still silent, I looked back at him to see a cloud of sadness filling his bright blue eyes.

Shit! Was my question too personal? Did I offend him by asking?

“Luca, I am s—” My apology was cut off by his hands reaching for one of mine, covering it warmly.

“My dad passed away the day I was out drinking and getting this tat,” he replied quietly, looking down at his arm. His shirt was a long-sleeve button-down with the sleeves rolled up over his elbow, the bottom of the unfinished ink job poking out just an inch.

“One minute I was enjoying my freedom, and the next I was back home, transferring to a local university and working part-time at the family business all while looking after my mum and younger sisters.”

Luca looked over my shoulder, and I could tell he didn’t seeing anything interesting behind me; rather, he looked like he was lost in his memories.

Suddenly, I didn’t like the distance between us, the table a hindrance now rather than a necessary buffer to keep me from throwing myself at him as I did at the pub. When I said yes to this date earlier when Luca came to my shop to explain, what I initially thought was his rude behaviour, I gave myself a good talking to and came up with a plan to take things slow. We had sexual chemistry; that much was obvious. Being compatible sexually was not the only important aspect of a relationship, however. My last relationship had been the opposite; we clicked in the conversation department and lacked in the sack, so to speak. With Luca, it was important to me to see if we had both.

Replacing the menu back on the table, I covered his hand with my free one, threading my fingers through his, and as I hoped, Luca’s attention turned back to me.

“You mentioned that your mum is … fragile, was it? What exactly do you mean by that?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Mum is French, I think I told you that.” Nodding a yes, he continued. “She is an emotional woman, always has been. Dad was a red-blooded Italian. They met when she went for a summer holiday to Rome. They met, fell in love and married all within two months. Her parents disowned her when they found out their only daughter married the son of a poor fisherman. Mum had been at university studying art, she is a painter and they had big dreams for her to be the best landscape artist of her time. Instead, she married and immigrated to Australia with her Italian husband. A couple of my father’s relatives followed soon after and a couple of years later, Mum’s older brother and his family arrived in Australia.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad decision to me.” I decided immediately, loving the beautiful love story of his parents and the way he told it. I could hear the affection and respect Luca had for his parents. Not so different from how I felt about my parents, just different ways of seeing them.

“That is what I think too.” He smiled warmly at me. “Anyway, Dad did everything for Mum. She was his queen and he worshipped and waited on her every need. He got a job as a brickie’s labourer and went to night school to learn English. His boss saw that he was more than just a lackey, so he sponsored him to go to uni, and Dad eventually got his engineering degree while working a day job and classes at night.”

“Did your Mum work?”

“Not in the traditional sense. She taught painting to school kids